

There’s further scientific evidence that too much sleep could be a sign of dementia in senior women.
Margaret had always been a force—stitching old stories into new quilts, filling her home with the scent of rosemary and warm bread.
But lately, afternoons swallowed her whole. She’d sink into her chair, her body curled in on itself, retreating from the world in a way that unsettled her family.
They rationalized it: age slows everyone down. Maybe she was just catching up on rest. Maybe they were overthinking it. But the truth had already begun to creep in, silent and insidious.
According to Alzheimer’s Disease International, a new case of dementia occurs every three seconds in the world.
We like to believe sleep is restorative, that it knits up the raveled sleeve of care.
But when naps stretch longer, when waking hours dwindle, when the once-bustling woman in the kitchen becomes a ghost in the armchair, it might be something more.
Researchers have been tracing these breadcrumbs for years. A study from the University of California, San Francisco found that older women who napped excessively had double the risk of developing dementia.
Not just a correlation—an early symptom. A brain quietly dimming the lights before the real storm begins.
Neurologists say the regions controlling sleep—the thalamus, the hypothalamus—are some of the first to deteriorate in neurodegenerative diseases.
Sleep patterns fracture, circadian rhythms unravel, and suddenly, the body doesn’t know when to be awake. It’s not just the forgetting that signals dementia. Sometimes, it’s the retreat.
Eleanor had never been one to linger in bed. Even as the years settled into her bones, she started her days with movement—steady, deliberate, her canvas bag swaying in rhythm with each determined step.
Book club in the afternoon, gardening before dinner. It was a routine built from decades of habit. But then she started dozing in the middle of conversations.
At first, just a nodding head, a momentary lapse. Then, full stretches of sleep that bled into hours. She stopped making plans.
Friends stopped calling. “She’s just tired,” her daughter assured herself, until one evening Eleanor stood in the hallway, unable to find her own bedroom.
The shift from normal aging to something else is so gradual, so subtle, that even the closest of us miss it.
We don’t think to ask why someone who never napped now sleeps through the afternoon. We don’t connect their rest with their slipping memory, their faltering steps.
There’s definitely a connection between increased daytime sleepiness and increased dementia :
“When someone starts sleeping more during the day, it can mean the brain is struggling. The parts responsible for keeping us alert are deteriorating.”
Sleep studies confirm it. Patients with excessive daytime sleepiness often show more buildup of beta-amyloid plaques—the same biological markers that define Alzheimer’s disease.
But early detection matters. The earlier the signs are recognized, the sooner interventions can begin.
For caregivers, noticing is its own weight. Seeing your mother or grandmother fade into long afternoon naps feels harmless—until you recognize it for what it is.
The guilt of dismissing it. The fear of what it means. The quiet mourning of someone still here but already slipping away.
Margaret’s family started keeping a journal. At first, just noting when she slept, how often she seemed confused. The more they wrote, the clearer the pattern became.
Eventually, they brought her to a specialist. Catching it early meant shifting gears—small changes in routine, mental exercises, maybe medication to slow the inevitable.
It wouldn’t bring back what was slipping, but it could hold the door open a little longer. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.
Because the truth is, we don’t always see the signs until they’ve passed us by.
Until the naps become nights, and the waking moments become fewer. Until the person we love feels just beyond reach.
If you need more information or assistance about seniors with dementia, contact Applewood Our House.