My mom’s sad struggle with Alzheimer’s

Like the first line from the song “The Way We Were,” I am hoping that happy memories continue to “light the corners” of her mind.

A few days ago, my mom asked me how old I was. Then she inquired about her own age. A few minutes later she asked the same question, and the conversation took an eerily familiar turn: I told her the same information over and over again, and she immediately forgot it.

Mom doesn’t remember her age or mine because she lives in a time warp of sorts. Years, months and days blend into a continuum of sameness, with only an occasional spark of cogent conversation.

That’s because mom has Alzheimer’s disease, which, in just a few years, has drastically transformed her personality, altering her life and mine in many ways. I could have never imagined, for instance, to what degree my once mentally alert mother would become disconnected from the world and people around her.

November is Alzheimer’s Disease Awareness Month, which is a good opportunity to shed light yet again on this incurable condition, which not only robs the sufferers of a lifetime of memories but also affects entire families.

I know my mom’s illness is not unusual or unique; in the U. S. alone, approximately 5.3 million people are suffering from various forms and stages of Alzheimer’s and dementia. I can only imagine that all the caretakers and families of these patients have their own poignant stories to tell.

Ours is slightly different in one respect: Mom lives in a memory support unit of a continued care facility in Florida, while I live about 5,000 miles away near Geneva, Switzerland. Several times a year I fly to be with my mother, but the physical distance and the time it takes to get there from here create a number of additional challenges and frustrations. For example, in case of emergency, will I be able to get there quickly enough?

My steep learning curve about the progression of Alzheimer’s has been ongoing for several years. In the beginning, signs were subtle: Short- term memory loss coupled with the inability to perform once- familiar tasks like writing a check. As time went by, more symptoms were checked off the list: Decreasing ( and now non- existent) judgment and decision- making skills; growing confusion; losing track of dates and the passage of time; and the diminishing capacity to understand or learn even the simplest tasks.

Yet, despite her mental decline, sometimes mom has brief moments of clarity. Earlier this year, for instance, she complimented me on my earrings, saying, more to herself than to me: “I still care about pretty things, but I shouldn’t.”

That comment was like a dagger through my heart, because I had believed that she no longer noticed anything around her and, in a way, this lack of awareness protected her from emotional pain.

But this bittersweet moment did not last. Within minutes her mind wandered off. When I asked whether she wanted me to buy the same pair of earrings for her, she looked confused and disoriented; clearly, she had no idea what I was talking about.

The research into the causes and treatment of Alzheimer’s occasionally makes promising discoveries, like the news last month about the blood test that could detect AD years before a patient has symptoms.

That is great for future generations, but unfortunately too late for my mother and others who are currently in the throes of this illness.

For now, I often wonder whether behind mom’s dazed look there could be some remnants of cognition. Like the first line from the song The Way We Were, I am hoping that happy memories continue to “light the corners” of her mind.

And I also hope that, as she slips deeper into oblivion, one sensation will remain forever: The feeling of being loved.

FAMILY PHOTO COURTESY OF HELENA BACHMANN Helena Bachmann with her mother.