As I was getting ready to leave for work, I walked into the kitchen. Once there, I couldn't remember why I made the effort. I had my lunch in my hand. My car keys were in my pocket. I already knew the coffee machine was turned off. What was I doing there? Feeling a bit confused and stupid, glad that no one witnessed my “senior moment,” I walked back to my office and retraced my steps, hoping to jump start my memory. As I walked back to my office I remembered that I went into the kitchen to be sure there was food in the cat’s dish before I left for the day.
Things like this happen occasionally. At least I think it only happens occasionally. You see, Alzheimer’s disease runs in my family. After this seemingly innocent episode, I mentally assure myself that I was distracted; that this was a normal minor mental breakdown, no more ominous than a misstep when I am walking. If I trip, I don’t start wondering if this is the beginning of Parkinson’s.
Empty Nest Syndrome
Empty Nest syndrome can manifest itself in many ways. At the age of fifty-eight, my mother decided to finish her education. She graduated Magna Cum Laude from the University of South Florida. She achieved a four year degree in two years. She went on to graduate from law school. She was sixty-three. That same year, my father retired from US Steel. My mother never practiced law. I do not believe she even took the Bar Exam. The education was enough of an accomplishment for a housewife born at the beginning of the Great Depression. It was kind of a “see what I could have done” moment.
My father was ready to retire. He had worked for forty-some years and was ready to relax and enjoy the rest of his life. When they retired, they were in Houston Texas. They moved back to Pittsburgh where two of their four children lived.
My mother is now Eighty three years old, deep in the throes of Alzheimer’s disease. My father is tasked with providing her with round-the-clock care. Her mother had Alzheimer’s back in the seventies. At the time we called it senility. Unlike my mother, my grandmother lost touch with reality. She was unable to recognize family members, often confusing television characters with real-life events. My grandfather died when my grandmother was a young lady. She never remarried and lived alone until she passed away in a "home".
Looking Back, Looking Forward
Looking back, I can’t say when it became clear that my mother’s mental capacity was diminishing. It happens gradually. Although she has Alzheimer’s, she has the ability to recognize family members and to engage in routine conversations. She gets lost in fast-moving banter. She is aware of family relationships but she doesn't necessarily remember that I am divorced or that one of her daughters lives in another state. She has trouble with timelines. Her short term memory is shot. Someone remarked that she won’t remember today’s events until next year.
She has some cognition of the fact that she has Alzheimer’s. She recently asked my brother and my sister, on separate occasions, if they think she has Alzheimer’s. The answer, though not rehearsed, was similar – Mom, you certainly have a problem with your memory, particularly your short term memory. You need continue to take your “memory medication.” Mom is somewhat aware that she wears a patch for memory. Unfortunately, or maybe it's fortunate, she won't remember either of the encounters.
Long Term Memory
Mom cannot remember what she had for breakfast but she remembers events from our past. She cannot remember a trip to the grocery store today but she has vivid memories of events long past. She cannot remember to take the daily medications for her heart, blood pressure, memory and her liver. Dad has to coax her to take her medication. She is mobile, to a degree; however, she refuses to use a walker.
She was recently admitted to the hospital for surgery to remove liver cancer. Her doctors were aware of her mental condition. After the surgery, she was complaining about pain. The nurses somewhat rudely told us that she has a little button she can push which will administer pain medicine – morphine, I believe. We explained to the nurses that she doesn't have the capacity to remember that she has the button. The nurses, were not allowed to push the button. In addition they told us that we, the family, were not allowed to press the button. Eventually, after a couple of painful days, they began administering pain meds on a timed basis through the intravenous catheters attached to her arms.
My mother’s surgery brought the family, the siblings and my dad together for a short time. One evening we were discussing Mom’s Alzheimer’s and each of us discussed our fears. “I forget names and wonder if this is the beginning.” “I start reading a book and realize, halfway through, that I read it before.” “I've watched movies almost to the end and realized that I've seen it before.”
We discussed our fears regarding our collective futures. My father is a saint with the patience of Job. We wondered together if our spouses would have the patience to provide full-time care to us should the time come. Since I am not married, I wonder about my future. Will I be imprisoned in a “home” to die alone?
Happiness
What is happiness? My mother isn't happy. She is tormented. You can see it in her face. My father is dutiful. His love is obviously a “til death do we part” kind of love. It’s a beautiful thing to see and it is also hard to watch. He is selfless, without ego. Patient. He is as healthy as a man can be at the age of eighty-six. His duty in life has become to care for my mother. At this age many of their friends have passed.
I read everything I can find about Alzheimer’s. While there may be tests for genetic markers, having the markers is not a guarantee that you will come down with the disease. Our genes come from both parents. There are tests available that, taken over time, may give you warning of diminishing mental capacity. There is no cure. Modern medicine may help us live longer but is it living better? The problem is that I am not sure I want to know.
We have a strong family. My parents made a good choice moving back to Pittsburgh when they retired. There are two siblings here who are but fifteen minutes away in the evenings and forty minutes away during the day. You can pick you friends, you can pick your seat but you can’t pick your family. I feel lucky that our central family unit is strong and that we have the capacity, both financially and physically to render assistance. We are truly blessed with our family. Sure we are weird and odd but we love each other just the same.
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| Senior Picture |
There was a time that my mother said she would’ve liked to have lived during the Roaring Twenties. She liked the apparent carefree lives of the flappers. Our lot in life is determined as much by when we were born as it is to whom we were born. Being born in the twenties, you were expected to grow up, get married and
have a family. Had she been born, say in the fifties or sixties, the expectations for her may have been different. I always believed that she felt slighted by her position as a housewife. She played the role but I think she understood that if she were born in a different time, her accomplishments would've been quite different. Sure, she was proud of her family but something was missing. She wouldn't have been happy as a flapper. She may have been happier as an attorney, though it was never meant to be. I believe she was troubled by the words “what could have been?” I think that somewhere in her lost memory she still has those feelings.
As I drive down my street off to another day at work, I begin to wonder…did I remember to close the garage door? This a normal, isn’t it?
Another gust of wind opens my eyes and changes the reflection in the puddle carrying with it the memory like the leaf now blowing across the yard. Who is to say which memories we are going to carry with us the rest of our lives. 
