It began with little things—misplacing car keys, a common occurrence. Then it escalated to forgetting to take his medication. Soon after, he was leaving food like yogurt and milk in the cupboard instead of the fridge. As a new mom overwhelmed with the demands of motherhood, I was exhausted and experiencing my share of forgetful moments. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t recognize the signs sooner, or maybe I simply didn’t want to confront them.
When my father received his Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I wasn’t shocked. The indications were evident, but the reality didn’t hit me until much later. My sister and I took on the role of caregivers, making the daily 20-minute commute between our homes and his, often with one, then two, babies in tow. We were constantly shopping for him, as he would forget to eat or burn his meals in the microwave. He’d take his medications inconsistently, either doubling up or skipping doses altogether.
Eventually, it became clear that he could no longer live alone; the situation had become unsafe. With heavy hearts, we made the decision to place him in a nursing home. While I knew it was the best choice for his safety, each visit felt like a blow to my gut. He was angry and felt abandoned, lashing out with hurtful comments. I understood it was the illness talking, not him, yet each interaction tore at my heart. My once strong father had been reduced to a frail shadow of himself.
On good days, his humor and sarcasm still peeked through, yet he no longer recognized his grandchildren. They would not know the man I had the privilege of growing up with, only the frail figure who could no longer lift them or play with them. They wouldn’t feel his warm embrace or hear the guitar melodies he once strummed. This disease has stolen so much, not just from him, but from my children.
What terrifies me most is that Alzheimer’s runs in my family. My father’s lineage has seen many suffer from it, and I can’t shake the fear that I am next. I find myself forgetting simple things; at times, I struggle to recall even the most basic words while speaking. I know that as a mother, forgetfulness can be a common trait, but I fear the real, significant lapses.
I look at my children and can’t fathom a life where I wouldn’t remember them—their quirks, their laughter, or even the things that annoy me but make me smile when they’re not around. Those memories are my lifeline. I envision growing old with my husband, sharing adventures and making memories, but what if I forget who he is? The thought of making him my caregiver is daunting, though I know he would never let me feel that burden. He would support me, just as I do for my dad.
While I understand I can’t let the fear of the unknown dictate my life, it’s hard to ignore the reality of watching a loved one fade away. I can’t prevent Alzheimer’s, nor can I cure it. When I visit my father, I study his hands, memorizing every wrinkle. I do the same with my children, capturing their essence in my mind during those fleeting moments of joy. I want them to know they are my everything, even if one day I can’t express it.
The love we share never diminishes, even in the face of Alzheimer’s. My dad knows I love him, and I feel his affection in return, even without words. I make it a point every day to ensure my family knows how much they mean to me. If a day comes when I can no longer voice it, I hope they will always remember: “I love you more than you could ever know. You fill my life with beauty, and every moment with you is a cherished gift.”
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Summary
This heartfelt reflection highlights the emotional toll of witnessing a loved one suffer from Alzheimer’s disease while grappling with the fear of inheriting the same fate. As the author navigates the complexities of caregiving and family life, she expresses a profound love for her father, her husband, and her children, emphasizing the importance of cherishing memories and expressing love before it’s too late.
Keyphrase
Alzheimer’s and Family Fear
Tags
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