I have a take home math examination I'm supposed to be working it but I can't stop thinking if it's even worth it for me to try and learn things. Why should I bother advancing my education? I'm thinking about my mom and her disease: early-onset Alzheimers. Possibly genetic. Possibly? The doctor says there is a higher risk of it being genetic if it's early-onset.
Do I have Alzheimer's? Are beta amyloid plaques slowly taking over my brain? Every time I fumble to come up with the correct word for an object I wonder. Every time I have to tell someone I don't remember that event I wonder. Every time I forget where something familiar is located I wonder. I understand that forgetting things is typical, but at what rate of occurrence? How many instances must occur within what time frame before it causes a twinge of doubt? A question of one's abilities?
I want to be tested for gene mutations. There are so many big life decisions I need to make if my mom carries the mutation, if I carry it. Life decisions I don't really want to have to make.
One woman's journey through life.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Holding On
It's funny what people with Alzheimer's retain in their memory. Who picks what memories stay and which ones go? Which ones get retained and what others slip away?
I stood up in my best friend's wedding this past weekend; it was a beautiful ceremony. Because I was the maid of honor I've been in the loop for wedding details and I've mentioned them a time or two to my mother. So when I called her on Sunday after the wedding on the way to the airport I was pleased that she remembered to ask about the wedding. When it was, where it was, what my role in it was. How beautiful the bride was, how handsome the groom looked in his tux. The cold weather, the clear skies, the wishes of happiness we shared for the bride and groom. We had a nice chat.
What didn't get retained was the fact that I would by flying to North Carolina for a business trip. What it was, where I was going. She remembered hurricane Sandy. Knew that it was approaching the East Coast and that its fury would be felt on shore soon. She asked me to call once I landed to let her know that I was all right. Said that even though I wouldn't be in the path of the storm she still wanted to hear from me.
My plane landed at 10 PM, after she was already asleep. I didn't call.
I waited until I was back in Wisconsin three days later to call and say that I made it safely. That my original flight through Newark had been cancelled but I was able to find a new flight through Chicago. She was confused, asking if the wedding was in North Carolina. She asked about the ceremony, where it was, when it was, and what my role in it was. It was as if we'd never spoken previously. I told her about my business trip. What I had done, where I'd gone.
How do you tell a story as if you've never told it before without your voice cracking? How do you make sure to remember all the details so that the story remains the same?
I want to understand this better because it makes no sense to me. Who decides what memories you get to keep and which ones you lose? Is it repetition? Is it key words? It is strong emotional ties to an idea or a thought? I don't understand.
I stood up in my best friend's wedding this past weekend; it was a beautiful ceremony. Because I was the maid of honor I've been in the loop for wedding details and I've mentioned them a time or two to my mother. So when I called her on Sunday after the wedding on the way to the airport I was pleased that she remembered to ask about the wedding. When it was, where it was, what my role in it was. How beautiful the bride was, how handsome the groom looked in his tux. The cold weather, the clear skies, the wishes of happiness we shared for the bride and groom. We had a nice chat.
What didn't get retained was the fact that I would by flying to North Carolina for a business trip. What it was, where I was going. She remembered hurricane Sandy. Knew that it was approaching the East Coast and that its fury would be felt on shore soon. She asked me to call once I landed to let her know that I was all right. Said that even though I wouldn't be in the path of the storm she still wanted to hear from me.
My plane landed at 10 PM, after she was already asleep. I didn't call.
I waited until I was back in Wisconsin three days later to call and say that I made it safely. That my original flight through Newark had been cancelled but I was able to find a new flight through Chicago. She was confused, asking if the wedding was in North Carolina. She asked about the ceremony, where it was, when it was, and what my role in it was. It was as if we'd never spoken previously. I told her about my business trip. What I had done, where I'd gone.
How do you tell a story as if you've never told it before without your voice cracking? How do you make sure to remember all the details so that the story remains the same?
I want to understand this better because it makes no sense to me. Who decides what memories you get to keep and which ones you lose? Is it repetition? Is it key words? It is strong emotional ties to an idea or a thought? I don't understand.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Driving
Last weekend I received a text message from my little brother. Mom just got stopped by the CITY cops for running a stop light. A follow up text came a few minutes later. She is very upset and crying. I was 350 miles away and had laryngitis.
It had started raining while she was at Curves. Normally Mom won't drive if the weather is inclement but this started out of the blue and she decided to try to get home by herself instead of calling for help (she didn't have a phone with her anyway).
Here the story gets jumbled.
She ran a stop light. / It was hard to see in the rain. / She turned the wrong way down a street. / A semi had to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting her. / A woman said she (mom) almost hit her./ The police followed her for a while before finally pulling her over. / The police told her not to drive any more and gave her license to Dad instead. / The police didn't say anything. / This was the second incident this year. / This was the fourth incident this year.
The disease is obviously getting worse. She can't drive at night, she can't drive in poor weather, she can't really drive in perfect weather. The littlest change confuses her. I've heard three different versions of what happened that day all from Mom. The story keeps changing as time goes on. Perhaps that's to be expected but it still breaks my heart each time she assumes a somber voice and says "I don't know if you've heard yet, but I'm no longer driving."
Curves had been the one, last place she was allowed to drive by herself. Her one last shred of independence from Alzheimer's.
I wasn't expecting the progression to seem so fast. I feel like she's slipping away and I can't hold on tight enough. I continuously feel helpless and don't know what to do. I want so badly to be there with her, to be able to hold her, to say everything will be all right even though we both know it's a lie.
It had started raining while she was at Curves. Normally Mom won't drive if the weather is inclement but this started out of the blue and she decided to try to get home by herself instead of calling for help (she didn't have a phone with her anyway).
Here the story gets jumbled.
She ran a stop light. / It was hard to see in the rain. / She turned the wrong way down a street. / A semi had to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting her. / A woman said she (mom) almost hit her./ The police followed her for a while before finally pulling her over. / The police told her not to drive any more and gave her license to Dad instead. / The police didn't say anything. / This was the second incident this year. / This was the fourth incident this year.
The disease is obviously getting worse. She can't drive at night, she can't drive in poor weather, she can't really drive in perfect weather. The littlest change confuses her. I've heard three different versions of what happened that day all from Mom. The story keeps changing as time goes on. Perhaps that's to be expected but it still breaks my heart each time she assumes a somber voice and says "I don't know if you've heard yet, but I'm no longer driving."
Curves had been the one, last place she was allowed to drive by herself. Her one last shred of independence from Alzheimer's.
I wasn't expecting the progression to seem so fast. I feel like she's slipping away and I can't hold on tight enough. I continuously feel helpless and don't know what to do. I want so badly to be there with her, to be able to hold her, to say everything will be all right even though we both know it's a lie.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
I don't know how cope with the idea of losing my mom. Of losing her before she's physically gone. It's been almost one year since she was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. Before we knew better my brother and I would joke about it. "Mom's just forgetful, maybe it's Alzheimer's" -- because of course our mom wouldn't be affected. She'd be fine. It couldn't happen to us. No one wanted to admit out loud that perhaps she really was sick, that perhaps she really did have the disease. Alzheimer's happened to other people, not us. And our mom was too young to have a disease that ravaged the elderly.
Tonight I attended a final dress fitting for my best friend. I'm the maid of honor and I needed to become familiar with where all the hooks, snaps, and buttons on her dress were. As we walked through David's Bridal I caught a glimpse of a mother-daughter pair sitting outside a fitting room. The other daughter had just slipped back into the fitting room after finding The Dress she would walk down the aisle in. I watched the mother sitting there sniffling and crying a little at how beautiful her daughter looked and I couldn't help but think ahead to when I would be searching for my dress. Of how my mother might not be there to see me try it on or of how she might not realize what's going on.
My mom forgot my birth date this year. I haven't told anyone, it's not really something you slip into conversation. When we talked on the phone the day before my birthday she asked if it was soon or if she'd missed it. Would she have remembered it was even close to my birthday if my dad hadn't mentioned it right before my mom and I spoke? I hope so but the doubt is still there. I don't know how to get rid of my doubt. Of my fear.
I know I'm not alone in my fear but I don't know how to cope. I don't know who to talk to, who to turn to.
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