Having early Alzheimer's is gut-wrenching. But I also feel grateful.
It would be nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish of me to say I’m glad that I have early Alzheimer’s. I’m not. At first, I was too stunned by the diagnosis to summon tears. My heart shut down and my compromised brain took over. How could this happen to precious little me, always brimming with plans, ideas, and projects?
Now, though, it’s a relief not to fake remembering. The world doesn’t end if I leave my key in the door or lose my glasses. Always independent, I’m learning to accept a little grace. I seldom berate myself for missing a birthday or going to meet friends at the wrong date or time. I was aways a little suspect with details anyway. Fortunately, my scientist husband, John, aka “Left Brain,” keeps my calendar meticulously, waving away my thanks or playfully suggesting I pay him back with a kiss or a freshening of his coffee.
Though I could never have loved them more, I feel a stronger bond with my seven grandchildren, three of whom have special needs (Down and autism). More than ever, they fulfill my special needs. This reflects the character of their parents. No umbrage is taken when I call the kids by the wrong names or can’t remember their ages.
When we’re together, the grands and I laugh about how goofy Memaw is and then move on to playing Yahtzee or making cookies from a refrigerated roll of dough because I can’t follow recipes now. (Just for giggles, I let them sprinkle cookies with red and green Christmas sugar — in July.) They go with me to walk my eloquent-eyed Boston terrier, who nestles immediately into my armpit when they go home, the epitome of unconditional love.
I’ve also begun tiptoeing into the small world that is Alzheimer’s, sneaking incognito into a caretaker’s conference to snatch up swag like candy (I have developed the Alzie’s sweet tooth), a huge purple Walk to End Alzheimer’s T-shirt I use as a nightie, and glossy brochures that make care facilities look as inviting as Viking cruise ships. Lately John and I have been meeting with a kind lawyer who specializes in Alzheimer’s and helps us address the dread ahead. (John is well aware that Culver’s frozen custard must be administered immediately after each gut-wrenching rendezvous with reality.)
I’d be a ninny to say I’m glad I have Alzheimer’s, but I am grateful for the way it has changed my perspective. I identify with Elwood P. Dowd, the man whose best friend was a large ambulatory rabbit whom no one else could see in the play and movie "Harvey." Elwood recalled his mother telling him, “In this world, Elwood, you can be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant.”
Elwood muses, “Well, for years I was smart … I recommend pleasant.” I’m with Elwood.
Rebecca Christian is an Ames writer who may be reached at rachristian3026@yahoo.com.
This article originally appeared on Des Moines Register: Early Alzheimer's is gut-wrenching. But I also feel grateful.
