Truth will out: A carer who has fought criticism and disbelief

We meet Liz Lane, a carer who wants to make everyone aware of frontotemporal dementia.

Liz Lane sitting outside
Liz Lane says her husband Antony was always a 'true English gentleman'

When a rare form of dementia caused big changes in her husband’s behaviour, Liz Lane faced a lack of understanding from health professionals, friends and her local community.

She’s now on a mission to make sure that more people know about frontotemporal dementia (FTD) and its devastating impact. 

Privileged life 

Liz, originally from Warwickshire, worked in management training and redundancy counselling before retiring to Cornwall in the late1990s. 

Her husband Antony, aged 80, was managing director for two international companies. They married, both for the second time, in 1998. 

‘We had an absolutely divine marriage,’ says Liz. ‘Antony was a gentle, kind and sweet person – a true English gentleman.’ 

They were keen sailors both at home and in the Caribbean. 

‘We spent most of our time on the water.’ says Liz. ‘It was a wonderfully privileged life.’ 

One of the earliest changes in Antony’s behaviour came amid an unexpected family tragedy. 

‘Antony was usually very caring and tactile, but I would come home late and he was fast asleep, with no empathy or concern for our situation,’ says Liz.

In 2007, not long after giving birth, Liz’s daughter Amanda was diagnosed with cancer and subsequently died. Liz was travelling between Cornwall and Rome, where Amanda had lived, to help look after the baby. 

‘Antony was usually very caring and tactile, but I would come home late and he was fast asleep, with no empathy or concern for our situation,’ says Liz. ‘It was very bizarre.’ 

Antony became reluctant to change his plans or routines, even when Liz wanted him to take her to hospital, and his driving worsened. He also began to drink more and behave inappropriately in social situations. 

‘It was a complete change in character,’ says Liz. ‘He was just slipping away.’ 
 

Liz Lane at the Cornish creek where she lives.
Liz has been criticised and verbally abused over Antony's condition

Rare condition 

Liz went to her GP several times, but they wanted to hear from Antony himself, who didn’t believe that anything was wrong. 

‘He was also intelligent enough to put up a façade, and told everyone he was fine,’ says Liz. 

It wasn’t until he made a financial error during a business meeting that Antony acknowledged there might be a problem. 

After a series of local appointments from 2009 to 2012, a neurologist declared that Antony had nothing wrong with him, even suggesting that Liz had misinterpreted or exaggerated his behaviour. 

However, a medical friend told Liz that the changes in Antony’s behaviour might be explained by FTD. 

Frontotemporal dementia

Find out about frontotemporal dementia (FTD) and what causes it.

Find out more

Within six weeks of them seeing a specialist team at University College Hospital in London, in early 2013, they confirmed that Antony had behavioural variant FTD. He was also diagnosed with Parkinsonism, where someone has symptoms similar to Parkinson’s disease.

Devastated but vindicated 

The diagnosis was a vindication for Liz, who received judgement, criticism and even abuse over Antony’s situation from people who only associate dementia with memory or recognition problems. 

She recalls, ‘A fair-weather friend we used to sail with told me, “There is nothing wrong with him – you’ve caused this because you’re so bossy and have broken his confidence.” 

‘Another man in the village told me I’d ruined Antony’s life. People said, “Watch the wife, she has serious mental issues.” 

‘It’s a double-edged sword. You’re devastated that your husband has been diagnosed with a terminal illness, but having had the finger pointed at me, it was actually a relief that I didn’t have a serious problem myself. There was a huge amount of self-doubt instilled on that journey.’

Liz and Antony attended appointments at University College Hospital every six months, also taking part in research at the associated UCL Dementia Research Centre. Although visits became too challenging for Antony, the team have continued to support them from afar. 

‘I’m very fortunate – they’re one of the best dementia teams in the world,’ says Liz. ‘Anyone in the UK can be referred to them by their GP.’ 

Antony has also chosen to donate his brain to the National Brain Appeal in order to help others with FTD. 

In 2016, Antony was diagnosed with peripheral neuropathy, a form of nerve damage that affects his ability to walk. But his dementia meant he had no insight about this, which led to falls. 

He moved into a care home in January 2017 and is now no longer able to leave his bed. 

Liz Lane sitting outside
Liz wants to make everyone aware of frontotemporal dementia

Our dementia advisers are here for you.

Lonely place 

The lack of understanding about FTD that Liz has encountered across health and social care services has been glaring. 

‘GPs often don’t know about it and smaller towns rarely have a neurologist with the knowledge,’ she says. 

‘Care home staff don’t always understand the different approach needed for FTD, compared to Alzheimer’s.’ 

A social worker also claimed that Antony had full mental capacity, even though Liz and the neurologist knew there weremany situations, involving complex decisions, where he wouldn’t. 

‘There are people I had trusted who walked away when we needed them most,’ says Liz.

Liz has felt let down by the way some friends reacted to Antony’s illness. 

‘There are people I had trusted who walked away when we needed them most,’ she says. 

‘Their excuse was that they wanted to remember him as he was, but I think that’s an incredibly selfish attitude. 

‘They don’t get it and their lack of support makes your situation worse. It’s a very lonely place to be.’ 

Everyone aware 

Liz helps to facilitate a Devon and Cornwall FTD support group, part of the Rare Dementia Support service overseen by the UCL Dementia Research Centre. 

‘We meet every eight weeks to share personal experiences. These get-togethers are invaluable,’ she says. 

‘FTD shatters your life – your social life is finished – so it’s nice just to have a normal drink with people in a pub.’ 

Liz also takes comfort from the tranquillity of her Cornish cottage, which she shares with her golden retriever Polly. She lives by a creek where she can see swans and curlews from her garden. 

‘It’s absolutely beautiful, a little piece of heaven that keeps me sane,’ she says. 

Devastated by the effects of Antony’s dementia, Liz is determined to tackle the lack of awareness that she’s experienced. 

‘The whole thing is so bizarre, so confusing,’ she says. ‘People don’t know about the rarer dementias. 

‘I’m going to get out there and make sure that everyone is aware.’ 

Next steps

Find FTD-specific support group meetings, information and advice.

Dementia together magazine: Aug/Sept 18

Dementia together magazine is for everyone in the dementia movement and anyone affected by the condition.
Subscribe now
Dementia together magazine is for everyone in the dementia movement and anyone affected by the condition.
Subscribe now

5 comments

Thank you, Liz, and thank you all those lovely people who have commented above. I live in New Zealand now, but Liz, I know Cornwall well. I can relate to almost all the comments on this page. My husband who is highly intelligent, and with whom I shared 12 years of a blissful relationship and marriage, used to tell me I was the centre of his world. That if anything went wrong, he'd rather live alone than live in an unhappy relationship with me. But neither of us could ever see things going wrong. We built our dream retirement home outside of Auckland and all seemed wonderful. Two years ago he suddenly told a psychiatrist he couldn't see a future with me. Out of the blue many random and bizarre statements started to come out of his mouth in 2019 and behaviours I didn't even know about until I was told of them later, like getting "friendly" with a dear friend of mine. Now, after two years of hell and hospital misdiagnoses, he's been back living with me during all of 2021, and I'm caregiver to a stranger. He offers me tea at the end of my work day, but when I tell him how desperately sad I feel, there's absolutely no response or concern. My husband and best friend has died and some other entity who looks like him, has some of his mannerisms, and fools our friends into believing there's nothing wrong, has simply invaded his body. I'm beyond grieving. None of my friends are now here for me. I'm shattered, going through life like a robot and trying to extend my trips to the grocery store so I don't have to go back home. I'd work 7 days a week if I could just to avoid facing my reality. The only people who "get it" are those in my dementia-carers' support groups. Even my GP told me I have to wait until a crisis happens, and the leaders from the carers' group say I have to wait for the train crash. Scans are clear, yet a psychologist told me once that the only thing that would change his FTD diagnosis was an autopsy. Then he had a PET scan and they took the FTD diagnosis away and gave him ECT and antidepressants. Where is the joy in my life now? What is the point? There just isn't any, yet I have to keep putting my head in this pencil sharpener and making my own life more and more hellish every day as I look after the person I used to love, and I'm becoming more and more isolated from my family and friends. Today was Christmas Day 2021 and my own daughter looked at my husband (not her dad) and told me she thought he seemed fine and no wonder he was odd to me because I was treating him badly. This is sheer hell on earth. I didn’t know such a pain existed.

Kate, we're really sorry to hear about the difficult experiences you've described.

You might benefit from joining our online community, Talking Point, where carers and other people affected by dementia can share their experiences and receive support from others: https://www.alzheimers.org.uk/get-support/dementia-talking-point-our-on…

We hope this helps for now.

Alzheimer's Society website team

My husband has behaviour variant FTD but I can't get a diagnosis: I have been trying for 5 years. No-one believes me (except Prof Sube Banerjee whom we saw 4 years ago and first suggested bvFTD but said he couldn't make a diagnosis at that time). We saw a neurologist last week who is supposed to be an expert in FTD. At the appointment he said my husband's problems are due to a head injury 60 years ago; in the letter to our GP he says my husband has no brain disease and no change in personality. My husband refuses to go to UCL. Ironically, I was told by the Alzheimer's Society that they do not support sufferers and carers without a diagnosis. So I am condemned to living with a total stranger, suffering what amounts to mental abuse, and also having to cope with his now deteriorating physical health. If I believed the experts who say there is nothing wrong with him, I would leave him.

Liz ,You were so brave and always in tune with Ant . I was very sad to learn that he had died. I hope you feel a weight has moved from your shoulders and that you have peace in knowing that you fought for him as he would have done if the illness had been yours and not his. He was your rock and the place you have been in was a very hard place. i still feel that other people would have liked to help but most are too ill equipped to know how to respond.Much love Jane

My husband has FTD with parkinsonism, he was diagnosed nearly 6 years ago. I am his full time carer.
I feel so isolated, I spend all my time helping, supporting , prompting and helping him keep as much independence as possible. It's very tiring and you get no thanks as he is unaware of the impact his emotional blunting has on anyone else. So sad , he was very active and supportive before the illness.
He won't go and have respite, doesn't like strangers in the house and gets very agitated when out of his comfort zone. This puts a lot of strain on me as I am outgoing and miss other people's company.
It's a very tragic illness, it robs the person or who they are . Little by little the person deteriorates before your eyes. I feel like I have been grieving for years.