My grandfather never suffered from Alzheimer's Disease. His mental capacity was fading towards the very end, but even at 96 he still read the newspaper and seemed to remember every single Chinese word he ever learned. He never forgot my face until the day of his death, a terrible day where he was disorientated by drugs and the foreign surroundings of the hospital. All things considered, he lived his last days with dignity. The same can't be said, however, for many older people suffering from Alzheimer's disease.
My paternal grandmother suffered from Alzheimer's towards the end of her life, and at the end she could not recognize my dad's face. It was a heartbreaking feeling, and it made me value the preciousness of life, that all of a sudden it could all fall apart, or in the case of many Alzheimer's patients, it could be a slow grind down, with memory slowly deteriorating. There are suggested methods to prevent the disease like not smoking/drinking/eating a balanced diet but then others like learning a second language, doing mental exercises, etc. that I can really get behind. It can happen to anybody, though, especially in the rarer form of familial Alzheimer's, as depicted in the movie "Still Alice" starring Julianne Moore. A linguistics professor at Columbia, the character is as shocked as I was that she could develop early onset Alzheimer's at the young age of 50. (I'm turning 35 Monday, that'd be only 15 years away!)
In the movie, Alice slowly loses her mental faculties, which is truly relatable to someone like me who relies on brainpower to make a living, be conversant, etc. (It's certainly not my physical abilities or hands-on abilities). At one point an exasperated Alice laments, "I wish I had cancer." A Hobson's choice, for sure, but I can only imagine the symptoms inflicting her: brain constantly in a fog, constantly forgetting things (I'm already pretty forgetful as it is, being more so would truly affect daily activities), not knowing what she might lose next. The disease also affected her family members, who not only inherited the possibility of the disease as well through genetics but also have to make decisions about how to take care of her. I am extremely grateful in old age that my grandpa was generally able to take care of himself (use restroom, feed himself, go on walks, etc.) allowing the rest of the family to live their lives and not become a heavy burden, but the cruel reality of Alzheimer's is it renders a patient unable to function and in need of caretaking/maintenance. At 50-something years old, that is the time to be enjoying grandkids, finishing out one's career and looking forward to retirement, not losing one's capacity to think. There are a lot of horrible diseases out there (incluidng Covid-19 and long Covid) but particuarly virulent is Alzheimer's that rips away one's memories, which at the end of life, isn't that all we have? The memories of a life (hopefully) well lived?
I've mentioned this before, but I've been crying more at end of sad movies/ stories that depict a loss of something, not even necessarily death but the inability to achieve one's goals, or understanding that a way of life, a lifestyle, a relationship, has come to an end. I guess it makes sense as I grow older to be sad at others not being able to continue the good times, the realization that the end is near. The same feeling may have fueled my dislike of the 23-year-old Jeopardy champ Mattea Roach, who by accounts is a very smart young lady with a bright future, but constantly scraped out narrow victories or lucked out against inferior competition on Jeopardy to become the holder of the 5th-longest winning streak ever. Her success at such a young age makes me jealous, and makes me sad that I did not achieve goals like she did, and I won't ever be able to go back and amend that. But I shouldn't look backwards, I still got time to achieve goals with the rest of my life before one day, a long long time away, it all fades away and all I have are my memories (if I can fend off Alzheimer's).
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