There are times when we will use this blog to share a personal story, one we hope will resonate in a universal way even as the details are singular and specific. By sharing experiences, we learn we are not alone. We learn there is healing and hope along the way.
In her own words, here is such a story — from Ellen Sue Moses, a pharmacist and member of the Health Champion team . . .
My father has Alzheimer’s. In truth, his dementia is probably a mixture of vascular dementia and Alzheimer’s disease. But that doesn’t matter to him. Or to me. Naming his dementia doesn’t change its reality.
I’ve heard that the definition of Alzheimer’s is not when you lose your keys; it’s when you forget what your keys are for. According to the Alzheimer’s Association, as many as 5.3 Americans are living with the disease. It’s the sixth leading cause of death in the U.S.
About my dad: it’s hard to know when it started. By the time my mother died, either his disease had progressed significantly or my siblings and I were noticing it more. Ordinary activities were confusing and complicated. He couldn’t remember how to navigate the streets he had driven his whole life. He started getting frightened and having terrifying nightmares, this rock of a man who never seemed to have fear.
Then one day I noticed blank checks stuffed into his pockets; he couldn’t answer the simplest of questions without overwhelming frustration. Even with 24/7 care, he could no longer live in his apartment. To my joy, we moved Dad closer to me, into a wonderful facility dedicated to memory-impaired adults.
As we go through life, our feeling of safety is based upon lessons learned from past experiences. Dad lives in a world with no memory of the past — of what worked for him and where danger lies. Remarkably, he has adapted to this life where every day, everything is new.
All of the things Dad accumulated as he traveled through life no longer hold any value. What matters most to him is spending time with people. Not long ago he told me that he didn’t know who I was but knew I belonged to him. Caring for Dad has changed my perception of life, aging and death. From him, I am learning to live in the present; I am learning every day what matters most.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? We invite you to post your comments or send us a longer story by private e-mail. And if you need help, we’re here to guide your journey through the health care system.