7 years ago today, which in 2004 was the day after Father's Day, my dad got diagnosed with Alzheimer's. The aliens were stealing his brain, and I made my first post on this blog.
What a long strange trip it's been, and it will never be over, until they find a cure (or cures) or at least a way to halt it until death comes from another source.
My heart goes out to everyone whose families are still traveling this horrible bumpy road. The flowers are few and far between, but they are there, little tiny bits of brightness and laughter and love.
I hope this blog has been, and continues to be, a flower for those walking the road of dementia.
Happy summer solstice. May the sun illuminate your flowers.
My father's 1253-day journey through Alzheimer's Disease (AD) and my feelings about it. Now my aunt appears to have dementia, so this is her chronicle as well. All material is copyrighted by Gevera Bert Piedmont (except where noted and where quoted from other sources); please do not repost without permission.
"The cost of Alzheimer's? Everything you ever owned, everything you ever thought you would get, and things you never even thought about."
"It's a long, slow slide into oblivion, with no brakes."
"If this was a paper journal, the ink would be running with tears."
"Imagine a really beautiful, perfect statue, left out in the wind and rain for centuries, to be worn away, until it’s only retained the shape of a person, not any of the individuality. That’s what Alzheimer’s did to my father. It wore him away, all the sharp edges and crisp points that made him Bob, who loved his family and his pets and his raspberry bushes, and turned him into a fearful person with a vague and confused stare."
"It's a nasty disease, surrounded by shadows and small, largely unseen tragedies."--Terry Pratchett
This is a reminder that Alzheimer's disease affects real people, real families. My dad wasn't a monster, just a man whose brain was slowly eaten by a terrible disease.