The Silence of Alzheimer’s
Healthy children will not fear life if their elders have integrity enough not to fear death.
Erik H. Erikson
I like to joke that my preferred method of dying is to be shot by a jealous husband. The truth is I hope to die in my sleep, preferably after a final meal consisting of The Pretty Blonde’s meatloaf paired with a fine cabernet and a slice of carrot cake. My odds, however, favor an exit due to disease, an outcome I’m okay with that so long as I’m able to live long enough to see another 49ers Super Bowl victory parade (I realize, of course, that this may take a while). But if given a choice, there is one disease I pray will miss me like a Tiger Woods approach shot to a wide-open green, a physical affliction that terrifies me more than Donald Trump standing in front of a microphone.
Alzheimer’s.
It’s strange, really, because I’ve never knowingly met anyone suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. I’ve never had to bear witness to the slow, steady erosion of a parent’s mind, or observe the soul of a friend dimming like an evening sunset. I’ve heard stories, of course, and I’ve conducted plenty of research on my own. Everything has led me to the same definitive conclusion; a passing featuring years suffering from Alzheimer’s disease is no way to cross the finish line.
But that’s not the part that scares me.
What frightens me down to the core of my being is the affect Alzheimer’s disease would have on my family. That disturbing visual was delivered home to me after watching “Glen Campbell…I’ll Be Me,” a CNN documentary aired in June that brings out of the closet the singer’s struggle with the ravages of the disease. Moreover, the show details the daily torment endured by his wife and children, a seemingly never ending process of one step forward followed by three steps back. Every day featured healthy doses of memory-loss served with side orders of frustration and paranoia. Campbell’s family puts up a good fight, and their remarkable love and strength allows them to win an occasional battle in a war they know they’ll lose. His wife and kids put up a happy face, but deep down I’m sure are sown the seeds of depression. There’s a lot I’d like to leave on this Earth for my family, but that’s not one of them.
The Pretty Blonde and I recently spent a quiet Saturday night at home watching “Still Alice,” a story about a renowned linguistics professor at Columbia University diagnosed with Alzheimer’s while in her mid-50’s. At one point Julianne Moore, the movie’s star, makes arrangements to take her own life, a plan that ultimately goes awry. It made me recall a New York Times article I read in May titled “The Last Day of Her Life,” a story about Sandy Bem, a Cornell psychology professor who resolved to kill herself before the disease stole her mind. I highly recommend it, but keep a tissue nearby.
I recently learned a former work colleague suffers from late-stage Alzheimer’s and has had to be placed in a home. This makes me sad, as this person is not much older than me. But what really makes me sad is learning this individual has three children under the age of ten. That makes me really, really sad.
If you can, please say a prayer for this family.