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When she was diagnosed she was acting, for lack of a better word, spacey. She repeated the same simple questions over and over. She could read fine print on a menu, but couldn't spot her drink sitting right in front of her. She would call dad and me by the names of her childhood pets. At first, we thought it was something with her eyes or hearing, but upon testing found out that it was early onset Alzheimer's. By the time she was 60, she couldn't remember my name. A year later, her mind had regressed back to her childhood. Another year later, she was effectively mute and immobile. At 64, her brain wasn't able to tell her body that she needed nutrition. That year, when she was 64, she starved to death because she didn't know how to even swallow the food we fed to her.
I miss her terribly.
Let me tell you, there is nothing good about Alzheimer's disease except that, for all we know, mom didn't know or understand what was happening to her. For the last few years of her life, she was living in a nursing home surrounded by medical and nursing staff that took excellent care of her. My dad and I went to St. John's as often as possible to be with her, and I believe to my core that even though she didn't know us anymore, she knew that she was surrounded by her loving family. The saddest part of the whole ordeal is the effect it had on my dad. Before he moved her into St. John's, he was taking care of her at home, and that meant he was looking after her for 36 hours a day. He had no time to do what he likes best like fishing, hunting, camping, and traveling. He was completely frayed at the ends, and when he mover her to the home, his house went from busy busy busy to silent. Even with his newfound freedom, he never wanted to be more than a few miles from mom. I don't know if he felt guilty about "abandoning" her or if he was depressed, but he wasn't a very pleasant person to be around for quite a while. He has recovered somewhat now, but I know that losing his best friend, partner, and mate created a gaping wound that will likely never heal.
Here in Spokane, and all over the country, there is an annual Memory Walk to benefit the Alzheimer's Association. My wife and I make it a point to participate every year. It is too late for my mom, but if I/we can help prevent another family from the horrors of this soul crushing disease, I feel I have to do my part. I know that's the type of legacy she would have wanted from her son.
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