Three Generations of Alzheimer’s Disease

 

 

Look at that face.

I wish I knew what my Dad was thinking in this picture.

Maybe he was thinking, “Mom, take the picture already!  Can’t you see I’m ready to get back to playing?!?!”  Or maybe he was thinking, “Why are my sisters running around outside in their skivvies???”  Ha!

Who knows what my dad was thinking, but after you get past the fact that my aunts are running around  in their big girl panties outside, I look at my Aunt Susan.  Look at her face.  Who is she looking up to?  My Dad.  I love that.

And then look at my Great Granddad’s face. Grinning from ear to ear.  I imagine him thinking his cup is overflowing being blessed with beautiful grand babies.  But I don’t know.

But what I do know about my Great Granddad, Dutch, is that he, too, suffered from Alzheimer’s.  When he was in his late 70’s he began not recognizing himself in the mirror.  His mind was so confused, he was hitting the mirror, thinking a stranger was in his home.  Turns out he  was the stranger in his own body.  Can you even imagine looking in a mirror and not recognizing your own face?  Somedays I wake up and look in the mirror and think, “Oh Mylanta!” but thankfully I never think, “Who the heck is that looking at me?!”  I pray that day never comes.

My Great Granddad also began wandering around town, not knowing how to get home, just like my Dad did.  Thankfully things in Gifford haven’t changed much over the years, because just how people would pick my Dad up and take him home, the towns people did the same thing for my Great Granddad.  You’ve gotta love small town values and that sense of community where everyone knows everyone.  It’s not always a bad thing! His family eventually had to put him into the nursing home in town to keep him safe, and he ended up passing away when he was eighty years old.

 

 

 

And then there’s my Granddad, Dwight.

If you had a minute, he had a story.

And boy, could he tell a story.  He had tons of them.  Stories from his time farming, stories from the gas station he owned and operated, stories from his time in the Navy, and on and on and on.

So, when he began forgetting stories and having my Granny finish them for him, we knew something wasn’t right.  You’d ask my Granny about it, and I’m not sure if she was in denial or didn’t want us worrying, but when family members would bring up their concerns about Granddad, she would always say, “No, he’s fine!”  But he wasn’t fine.  Eventually he had to quit coming back to help with harvest, something he loved doing every year,  because he couldn’t navigate on his own from Kansas to Illinois.  He quit telling stories.  He got quiet.

But something he didn’t forget…hymns.

 

In 2012 the Roberts family got together in Branson to celebrate my grandparent’s 60th wedding anniversary where I hosted The Roberts Diamond Jubilee.  It was so fun!  Their anniversary coincided with Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee celebrating her 60 year reign, so we played off of that for their party.  (You can see details from that party HERE). The weekend started off with my Dad getting lost on his way to my house as we would be riding together from Illinois to Branson.  My mom was recovering from battling blood clots in her lungs, so she wouldn’t be able to make the trip.  He called me on his cell phone, lost, not sure how to get to my house, and so I had to drive to the Casey’s Gas Station to meet him so he could follow me home.  I live in a pretty small town, one stop light, and it was dark, so I’ll give him that, but that was definitely a red flag.  Then on our way down to Branson the next day he seriously rode me the whole way on my driving.  I was either driving too fast or following too close.  He was convinced I was going to get pulled over.  He had started to develop a cop-phobia.  I had to threaten him that I was going to tape his mouth shut!  He didn’t appreciate that, but it was just so annoying!  He was okay once we got there, but back to Granddad and his hymns.

In a previous post I mentioned how important our faith is to our family.  Something I truly LOVE about my Roberts family is that when we’re all together on a Sunday, we worship as a family.  Where one or more are gathered, right?  Well, we had services in the cabin that Sunday morning.  My cousin Andy lead singing and my Uncle Steve lead us in worship.  Sure enough, my Granddad who had been wandering around all weekend like a lost puppy, not sharing story after story, could sing the hymns.  He could no longer lead us in prayer, or deliver the devotional, but he could sure sing.  He loved singing and was always known for leading singing at church.  I honestly believe this disease is the Devil’s handiwork, and what a blessing to know that he couldn’t steal that gift from my Granddad.

That would be the last time I’d see my Granddad.  His health began to decline quickly.  He was beginning to be too much for my Granny to handle on her own.

*TIP #1*

Get your power of attorney established NOW if you have a loved one you may even THINK is having issues.

My Granny would take Granddad to a facility that offered respite care so she could have a break.  When she went to pick him up, as if it wasn’t bad enough him not wanting to come home with her, one time they weren’t going to let her take him home because she wasn’t his POA.  Are you kidding me?!  She had to fight to get him out of there.  It was close to being a knock down drag out.  By then, getting a POA established is difficult considering your loved one can’t even sign their own name any longer.

So, no more respite care for them.  My parents, Aunt Linda, Aunt Jennifer, Aunt Susan, and Uncle Steve all took turns spending time with them in Kansas, helping take care of Granddad.  I remember my heart breaking thinking about my Dad having to leave his parents to get back to work, having to say goodbye to his dad for possibly the last time.  How do you say goodbye to someone you’ve loved your entire life, knowing it’s the last time you’ll most likely see them alive?   The last time you’ll feel the warmth of their body, the touch of their hand, hearing their last “I love you.”  How do you even find the strength to walk out that front door, hop in your car, and drive away?  As they were leaving, although he’d made barely any sense while they were there, he did manage to tell my Dad to take good care of my Mom.  Always thinking of others.  An amazing example of a godly man.  If he only knew it would ultimately end up being the other way around, my Mom needing to take care of my Dad.

We said our final goodbyes to my Granddad in November of 2012.  He was 81 when he died.  It was a beautiful service. At the cemetery there was someone there to play Taps and if you’ve never experienced that, let’s just say… chills.

 

And so now here in 2012, we have my Great Granddad gone from Alzheimer’s, my Granddad gone from Alzheimer’s, and my Dad showing signs.

All first born males.

And so your mind begins to wander…. is this a male thing?  Is it a first born thing?  Coincidence?  I doubt it.

Does my brother need to be worried?  For himself?  For his son, Reid?

Do I need to be worried?  For myself or for my first born, Brock?

The answer to all of those questions I believe is YES.

But, what does God say about worrying?

He says DON’T.

So, although I wonder, I’m not going to worry.  God is always in control.  But you know what I CAN control?  My choices.  My choices for myself.  The choices for my son.

My brother is on his own, but you better believe I give him my two cents, whether he wants it or not.

If I’ve learned anything about this disease, although it may be in my cards, I’m not going to fuel it.

My Granddads didn’t develop the disease until they were in their 70’s.  I believe lifestyle choices brought my Dad’s symptoms on early, which I’ll get into at a later time.

So, for now we’ll be thankful for the life my Granddads lead, the legacies that they left behind, and the promise that one day we’ll see them again.