Student shares family experience with Alzheimer’s
It is the afternoon of August 21, 2016. My family is huddled together, surrounding an eternal symbol of love, wisdom and despair. The great-grandchildren are nestled together in a warm, bewildered embrace. The grandchildren are looking on in anguish, trying hard to force happy memories into their minds, but to no avail. The children are leaned over, glancing through the tormented faces in the crowd, pushing back tears.
The widow is hunched over the casket with a hand over her face, remembering the 61 years the two spent together. As we begin to drift off, I hear her mutter, “This is the first time he’s been at peace in four and a half years.”
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The man in the large visitation room that Sunday was Sam Willis, a fisherman, hunter, neighborhood handyman, whistling master, friendly neighbor, football-lover, veteran and, most importantly, my grandfather.
My grandfather, to me, was a teacher. Not in the traditional sense of the word, but much more than that. He encouraged my many childhood desires and pushed me toward others, specifically, the love of learning. I was always curious as to how things functioned, so he spent hours in the shed with me explaining how all his tools and gadgets worked. He taught me how to master a skill through practice. He instilled in me a passion for acquiring knowledge, then helped nurture that passion until I could apply what I had learned in real life.
Nowadays I find myself doing something as routine as tightening a screw and thinking: “You know what? I learned this from my grandpa.” As I look back, I realize that without that special relationship I had with him, I would be a very different person.
He was a loving, patient individual who seemed to understand whatever situation you were in. He was the kind of guy who you could talk to about anything, and he would give an honest, sincere answer. He could sit and tell a story for hours and everyone would stop to listen. He was lively, humorous and perceptive.
But that was before the stroke.
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My grandpa’s final years played out like a storybook tragedy. It began when he fell entering a restaurant. He was temporarily blinded and confused. An MRI revealed he had suffered a minor stroke.
This event triggered a series of unfortunate events that resulted in him developing vascular dementia, a condition of the brain that often coincides with Alzheimer’s disease.
For several months after the stroke, Grandpa suffered severe confusion. In some instances, he could not recognize his own wife or children. He also experienced hallucinations, waving at people he saw through the window, but were not actually there. After visits with the neurologist to discuss his diagnosis, the doctor prescribed medications for his condition.
In the couple years following the stroke, he seemed to be doing very well and the dementia medication he was taking seemed to be helping tremendously. He was able to tinker with old parts and equipment, recall distant memories, and talk relatively normal. However, about two years ago he underwent a surgery where they were forced to put him to sleep. After that, his mental state began spiraling downward and all of the progress we had made up to that point had been lost. Now, when he spoke, his words were slurred and stuttered. He often mumbled and mixed up his speech patterns so it was hard to understand him or have an intelligible conversation.
Interestingly enough, the one area of Grandpa’s personality that was affected least seemed to be his emotions. He was able to express his feelings relatively clearly. He was able to show empathy and compassion as if nothing had changed. This was most clear at the memorial service of his younger son, Gary, where he cried and comforted his grieving wife.
The saddest part about what my grandfather’s illness was that he was fully aware of what he was going through. I remember one day he pointed towards his empty truck and said, “Do you see those seats? I see people sitting in those.” Even though I was old enough to know what was going on, he would tell me his mind was failing and that one day it would shut down. He told me not to be sad when it happened.
Grandpa’s dementia, though, did not only affect himself. It also took a huge toll on my family, including emotional, mental, financial and even physical strain. My grandma would get frustrated when my grandpa didn’t understand what she was saying. She couldn’t take a single day off unless someone stayed home with grandpa. Her health deteriorated along with his, as she fell sick with vertigo on one occasion and developed foot and back aches from the housework she had to complete on her own. My mother and uncle assumed a greater responsibility in taking care of their parents, while simultaneously balancing their own family and work.
The climax came when he fell in the kitchen coming back from a walk in the neighborhood. From there, we tried several different treatment and medicine options so he could continue to live at home safely for as long as possible, but he ultimately ended up at a hospital in town.
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I visited Grandpa twice while he was in the hospital. The first time I was immediately overcome with emotions. I saw my greatest mentor lying in a gown, skinny and twisted, speaking gibberish. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, he just could not say it.
The second and final time I visited him he was asleep. His breathing was very slow but his heart was racing. My cousins were in the room with him, but they all left so I could have a moment alone.
I knew he probably couldn’t hear me, but I spoke like we did in the good old days, when we played baseball and shot BB guns in the backyard. I said, “Thank you for everything. I love you forever.” Choking back tears, I left him with one last farewell: “See you later, alligator.”
I imagined him saying back to me in his soft, southern voice, “Afterwhile, crocodile.”
He died the next day. His official cause of death: advanced dementia. In lieu of flowers, we asked that friends make a donation to the Alzheimer’s Association.
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The reason I am writing this story is not just to tell my experience with losing a loved one. I am sharing this to spread awareness for Alzheimer’s disease.
Alzheimer’s disease is a degenerative illness that progressively destroys the brain of the sick individual, which results in declining mental and physical health as well as memory loss.
Alzheimer’s affects at least 5 million people across the United States alone and is responsible for over 200 billion dollars in health care spending annually. It is the sixth leading cause of death in the nation, and with the country’s aging population, these figures are only rising.
There is no known cure for this terrible illness, but through continued research and development, one day there might be.
You can encourage the fight against Alzheimer’s and dementia by supporting organizations like the Alzheimer’s Association.
Visit http://www.alz.org/ to find out how you can help.