My sister and I rolled our suitcases down the sidewalk tothe designated area to catch a cab to our hotel. We had come to DC to ask forresources to support NAPA (the National Alzheimer’s Project Act) and seekcosponsors for the HOPE (Health Outcomes, Planning and Education) for Alzheimer’sAct. “What brings you to DC?” the cab driver asked after loading ourluggage into the trunk. He spoke with an accent, which is the norm forWashington DC taxi drivers. “We’re here for the Alzheimer’s Forum,” I replied.“Is it for research?” he asked. “We’ll hear about research,” I said, “but we are here asadvocates.”It seems that everywhere I go, I run into someone who has apersonal experience with Alzheimer’s. “My mother has Alzheimer’s,” he said. “Some days she seemsokay, but other days she makes up things. She said that my sister and herhusband got a divorce, and it wasn’t true.”“That can happen,” I said. “People with Alzheimer’s getconfused and think something is real when it isn’t. Sometimes they thinksomeone is stealing from them.”“Oh, yes,” he said. “My mother thinks that people arestealing from her.”“Well,” I said, “she probably misplaces things and can’tremember where she put them so she thinks someone has stolen them. Of course,there is always the chance that someone could be stealing from her, so you wantto make sure it isn’t true.” “They don’t have a cure for Alzheimer’s, do they?” he asked.“No, they sure don’t. That’s the reason we are here. We talkto our legislators about research funding.” Alzheimer’s deaths increased 65%while deaths from other major diseases declined. Once again, advocates from across the United States are atour nation’s capitol trying to rally our senators and representatives to fundAlzheimer’s research. “My husband had anAlzheimer’s type of dementia,” I said. “It wasn’t Alzheimer’s but theAlzheimer’s Association helped me so much that I keep coming to DC each year.” The cabbie continuedto ask questions about the disease affecting his seventy-seven-year-old mother.He told us his mother had come to the US from Somalia. “What is the difference between Alzheimer’s and dementia?”he asked“You can think of dementia like an umbrella and beneath thatumbrella are a lot of different diseases that cause dementia. Alzheimer’s is themain cause of dementia, but there are a lot of other diseases that can causedementia, like Lewy Body disease, vascular dementia, or frontotemporal dementia.”“Like an umbrella.” He nodded his understanding. “Yes,” I said. “Dementia is a general term for people withmemory loss and who have trouble performing daily activities. Differentconditions cause dementia symptoms including some that are reversible. That’swhy it’s important to have a complete medical workup.”It always concerns me that someone will assume his loved one’smemory loss is Alzheimer’s when it might be a condition that can be treated.“The doctor said my mother has Alzheimer’s,” he said. “Hesaid she didn’t have thyroid or a vitamin deficiency.”“It’s good they checked those things out,” I said. We werepulling up to the hotel. “Be sure to contact your local Alzheimer’s Associationchapter. They can help you cope with the changes ahead.”We settled the tab and as I stepped from the cab, I toldhim, “I wish you the best with your mom.” He smiled and thanked me. As I closed the door, my heart went out to the cab driverwho had shared a slice of his life. His story is repeated 5.4 million timethroughout this country and has a predictable ending, at least for now. Maybesomeday I can share happier news with strangers I meet.Copyright April 2012 by L. S. Fisherhttp://earlyonset.blogspot.comcopyright(c)2011
It seems that every minute of the day fills me with an anxious feeling that I should be working on a project, or two, or three. Sometimes I feel like I’m juggling burning batons of responsibility and that if I don’t keep tossing my hair is going to catch on fire.This weekend was different. After all, it was a holiday weekend, and one of those rare opportunities when my entire family was under my roof. I figured emails, book orders, volunteer work, and that nagging little voice in my head that keeps saying, “you’re getting farther behind,” could just take a rest. After breakfast of biscuits and gravy, we had an impromptu Easter egg hunt for the two youngest grandkids. Since they were dressed in their Easter outfits and ready for church, we hid the plastic eggs in the living room.During services this morning, the pastor asked the questions, “How many doors have you gone through this morning?” I’ll have to admit, I’ve often thought of the symbolism of doors. Jim always likened death to closing one door and opening another. But physical doors—had I ever thought about that? How many doors do I go through in the course of a day? This house that Jim and I built has a lot of doors. I pass through them time after time. It seems that as I get older, I’m passing though them even more often when I realize I’ve forgotten something in another room. In addition, this morning, I was almost to my car when I remembered my camera. I into the house, picked up the camera and passed through the same door to go outside. This afternoon, I spent about an hour working on an upcoming presentation. With the sun shining brightly outside, I turned off the netbook and made a pitcher of tea. I poured a glass and walked through the door to join my son, Eric, and daughter-in-law, Shawna, on the front porch.“This is a perfect day,” I said. The thermometer showed nearly 70 degrees, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We walked out into the yard to enjoy the warmth of the sunlight. Birds chirped, squirrels barked, and a crow cawed loudly before he flew across the yard in a straight line toward the woods. The phrase ran through my head, “as the crow flies.” We talk about that when we are trying to describe not how we would make the journey, but the distance without those normal boundaries. I noted that the crow actually flew in a straight line.We meandered out onto the gravel road and started walking.“You used to walk the dogs to the corner nearly every day,” Eric said.“Yes, I did,” I said thinking about Bubba the huge, furry mixed-breed dog and Sherry the German shepherd. Both dogs died years ago. Bubba died from old age and Sherry died from grief a few months later.After our walk, we sat on the front porch visiting and enjoying the peace and quiet.Sunday was so unlike Easters of the past. When Jim’s parents were living, their house and yard overflowed with family. The little kids would be kept inside while the older kids and adults hid hundreds of eggs—plastic eggs, hard-boiled eggs, peeps, chocolate foil wrapped eggs. The kids would rush outdoors with the biggest basket they could carry to gather Easter Goodies.This Easter, we watched Katrina the cat chase a lizard. We sat and visited like the old days except that the ding of cell phones interrupted the conversations as friends near and far checked in via text messaging, email, and Facebook.After a few relaxing hours spent on the front porch, I carried the holiday feeling throughout the evening. I didn’t turn on the netbook and answer the annoying email I ignored yesterday. I didn’t work on the spreadsheet, place any orders, worry about my committee lists or corporate sponsors, or my taxes for that matter. A holiday should allow time to sit and contemplate the significance of how many doors I pass through in the course of a day. And on Easter Sunday, I enjoyed the gift of a perfect day when I indulged in the simple pleasure of sitting on the front porch with family.Copyright April 2012 by L.S. Fisherhttp://earlyonset.blogspot.comcopyright(c)2011
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