What Dementia Feels Like

What Dementia Feels Like

Receiving a dementia diagnosis is one of the most profoundly disorienting experiences—for both the individual and their loved ones. The emotional impact can be overwhelming, shifting rapidly from fear to anxiety, from confusion to deep sadness. It’s as if you’re being told that the world as you know it is going to slowly unravel, leaving you unable to grasp onto the familiar threads of memory and identity.

Dementia is a lived experience that varies dramatically from one person to the next. According to the Alzheimer’s Association, an estimated 5.8 million individuals are living with some form of dementia, with Alzheimer’s disease being the most common. This cluster of symptoms can rob individuals of their ability to think, reason, and remember. But the true toll of the disease is far more than just forgetfulness—it is a gradual disconnection from self, from others, and from reality.

The early stages involve subtle memory lapses, like forgetting a name or losing track of time. For some, these moments are fleeting, and they can be brushed aside as the natural effects of aging. But as dementia progresses, it becomes increasingly difficult to distinguish between what’s real and what’s lost. Conversations become harder, faces blur in memories, and routines—the comforting structure of daily life—begin to slip through the fingers like sand.

The second and third stages of dementia bring more noticeable impairments. Simple tasks become overwhelming. The fear of forgetting something important grows, but the individual may no longer have the ability to remember what they’ve forgotten. Anxiety sets in, and with it, a profound sense of helplessness. The person can no longer rely on their own mind in the same way, leading to a feeling of being trapped within their own body.

For many, it’s in the later stages when the true emotional weight is felt. The world around them becomes increasingly foreign. Former skills and interests fade away, and the individual may no longer recognize loved ones, even though their faces are still familiar. The distress of losing connection with one’s identity is immense, both for the person experiencing it and for those watching it unfold.

In The Blue Bus, Walter W. Mason offers an intimate, heartfelt account of what dementia feels like—not from a clinical perspective, but from the heart of a caregiver. The memoir focuses on his wife’s battle with dementia, exploring the deep emotional and mental toll it takes on both the person suffering and the spouse who remains by their side. Through Mason’s words, we are given a rare and compassionate window into the confusion, the frustration, and the quiet moments of love that still exist in the midst of dementia.

Mason’s story is a reminder that dementia is not just a clinical diagnosis, but a personal journey through loss, identity, and love. The Blue Bus is a tribute to the resilience of both those living with dementia and those who care for them.