Alzheimer’s manifests differently for everyone, and the experience shifts as the disease moves through its stages. Early on, a person might be quite aware of their fading memory and cognitive skills. They might notice they can’t recall names or events, or that they struggle to find the right words in a conversation. However, as it gets worse, it becomes harder for them to understand or admit the seriousness of their condition. Their ability to recognize their own decline often fades, and they may no longer grasp the full impact of the illness.
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On several occasions, my mom mentioned that things felt off. She’d say her hearing was failing or that she felt like she was losing her mind or even dying. Those moments were actually more painful than when she eventually stopped recognizing me and just lived in her own world. This disease is truly devastating.
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It’s a bit of a double-edged sword when my father mentions his brain hasn’t been working correctly lately; it shows a brief flash of his former self and awareness. Unfortunately, he hasn’t made a comment like that since January.
The last time my mother was able to clearly communicate her situation was about eight years ago. She was sitting at the piano she had played for fifteen years, just looking at her hands. I asked her what was wrong, and she looked so confused, saying, ‘I can’t play with both hands anymore.’ After that, her condition declined rapidly.
My mother received her diagnosis at Stage 3 a few years back. She denied it completely and never uttered the word Alzheimer’s. She’d talk about memory problems, but back then, she just couldn’t process the reality. Now she’s entering the late stage, has lost most of her vocabulary, and rarely recognizes us, but a few months ago she started mentioning she might have Alzheimer’s. I don’t know how that information finally clicked. She doesn’t remember the doctor telling her and doesn’t grasp the severity, but she knows the name now. Soon, she’ll likely lose the ability to even say that. It’s a strange, ugly disease.
There were plenty of times my dad admitted his head didn’t feel right. It was just heart-wrenching to hear.
Usually, there is a brief window where patients realize something is wrong and can understand a diagnosis. Once that window shuts, they often become more anxious or upset because they feel something is wrong but can no longer process that it’s Alzheimer’s.
My dad is aware something is off but won’t accept the diagnosis, even when looking at the medical papers. He insists he just had a stroke or a head injury. We’ve explained it to him many times; some people told us not to, but he kept asking what happened and why he almost set the house on fire.
My wife is fully aware. She witnessed her mother’s struggle, so we both know the path ahead. My job now is to ensure she stays happy and at peace. I provide her favorite dishes and the usual glass of wine with our main meal. We take walks and go on outings. We are seizing the day because we know our time is short. We celebrated 38 years of marriage this year; I just wish we had more years to explore. I recently started her on BrainProtect to support her as much as possible, but we mostly just cherish every moment.
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The stages of grief begin with denial, and that’s where my father mostly stayed, though he cycled through anger and sadness too.
I’m only 11 years younger than my mom was when her symptoms started. I plan on writing letters to my kids so they know exactly what to expect. It’s terrifying.