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“Alzheimer’s,” the neurologist said, like he was giving us a weather report. No eye contact but a clinical rundown of infusions B could get and possible side effects: brain swelling, brain bleeds, death.
No expression of regret. No acknowledgment of the gut punch we had just taken. Maybe that was good — skating across the surface of the news helped us get out of his office upright. He said we could think about the infusions — maybe they’d buy us six months. When I asked, beyond that, what would be next, he said, “We monitor.”
We? No. I monitor.
I am the watcher, the daily eyewitness.
And this is what I’ve learned about Alzheimer’s disease: Besides the working memory, it affects decision-making, information processing, computation, spatial awareness, coordination and personality. I’ve learned that most people who are afflicted struggle with anxiety and agitation, some with depression, and others become combative. Many have delusions and hallucinations.
Alzheimer’s is a shape-shifter. Today, B talks lucidly about friends of ours who will come to supper and cogently about a book he has been writing; yesterday, he couldn’t remember his granddaughter’s name and got confused about whether his daughter was his niece.
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He’s often bewildered by his own forgetting, and I am bewildered too — by how deeply memory is tied to personhood. Before this, I hadn’t fully understood how memory isn’t just what we carry but who we are. Now I see — it wears us, like skin. And when it begins to fall away, we’re exposed. Vulnerable. Lost. And yet, B’s quirky charm still surfaces, much to my relief.
Alzheimer’s spirals, lurches. It mocks your plans. It shifts the meaningful to the menial: pills, bills, doctor appointments, household chores, reassurances; gentle prompts disguised as normalcy. B declares, “I’m not ga-ga yet!” but later says, “I think I’m losing my marbles.”
He leaves drawers open. Cat treats are in the linen closet. Mouthwash sits next to the bleach. Our winter hats have disappeared. He opens the windows and doors, no matter how cold it is.
I never thought of myself as impatient, but the looping questions wear at me.
“What time is the doctor’s appointment?”
“Do we have a doctor’s appointment?”
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