IT MAKES SENSE TO ME
By Larry Peterson
My wife, Marty, began undergoing chemo treatments for Lymphoma during the spring of 2011. In the summer of 2013 cognitive disruption began to rear its ugly head. When I asked her oncologist could it be "chemo brain", he more or less gave me an I'm not sure, maybe shrug followed by a "I don't think so.", answer.
During the late summer of 2014 the "cognitive disruption" I had noticed was officially diagnosed as Alzheimer's Disease. So much for my "chemo brain" theory. The mental "fog" was never going to go away. On the contrary, I quickly found out that her newly discovered illness would hang on to her and not leave until it succeeded in taking her life. Alzheimer's Disease is the only cause of death that cannot be prevented, cured, or even slowed down.
Marty did not understand what was happening to her and I was having no luck trying to explain it. All she knew was that the rehab center she was in was not her home and that I had put her there and did not stay with her anymore. She had no idea where I (we) lived and was as frightened as a child whose parents at dropped her off at a strange place and left her there with strangers. The whole situation actually sickened me. When I would leave after four or five hours of visiting the pathetically sad and forlorn look that appeared on her face was almost too much to bear.
It is now almost eight months since the official diagnosis of Alzheimer's. She has been home since the end of last October. I have told her that she has Alzheimer's Disease and she tells me that she understands. She does not understand but, since she forgets the conversation within minutes, it does not matter anyway.
Marty has become my new seven year-old existing in an old body. No one can tell she is ill, except me, of course, and several close friends that know about her condition. When I take her with me to church and to the stores etc., I always hear how "wonderful" she looks. Yeah, well the Titanic looked all bright and shiny as it headed out into the Atlantic that cold, April day in 1912. (Oops, sorry, I try to avoid being "down" about this but sometimes it just bites me, especially when I write about it.) Moving forward---here is a link to Alzheimer's Disease .
Today, more than 5 million Americans are living with Alzheimer's disease and about 200,000 of those folks are under the age of 65. The disease kills more people every year than breast cancer and prostate cancer combined. It is estimated that by the year 2050, 16 million people will have this disease. Someone in the United States develops Alzheimer's every 67 seconds. They have estimated that by 2050 it will be every 33 seconds. This is an epidemic growing before our eyes. It is also becoming a nightmare for more and more moms, dads, sons, daughters, grandchildren, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends and society as a whole.
Imagine that all around the country people like Marty Peterson, are having their brains slowly erased by an invisible demon inside their heads. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh; back and forth, back and forth, the tiny eraser keeps moving--back and forth, back and forth. Slowly but methodically the demon goes about its work 24/7. After awhile the person under attack does not even remember how to go to the bathroom. And then, after a time, the eraser stops. It stops when the disease it is part of finally erases the person's life.
That is the course of the relentless, unstoppable, illness known as Alzheimer's Disease. It is at work at this very moment. Somehow, someway we will have to stop it. We will need God's help because this war cannot be won without Him.
For more information click on this link Alzheimer's Info
copyright©Larry Peterson 2015
April 11, 2015
Alzheimer's Disease--The Growing, Unstoppable Epidemic
Labels:
Alzheimer's Disease,
Chemo-brain,
commentary,
Lymphoma,
oncologist
November 9, 2014
A Piano Concert Given on the Road to Nothingness
IT MAKES SENSE TO ME
by Larry Peterson
by Larry Peterson
Until about four years ago, Marty, was never sick a day in
her life. That is when the Lymphoma was discovered and the chemo began. The
cancer would come and go and so would the PeT Scans and continued chemo
treatments. Truthfully, it was never much more than an inconvenience. She never
got sick, lost weight or had any of those stereotypical cancer fears
materialize.
What did unexpectedly occur were the ever more frequent
cognitive disruptions. Memory lapses, asking the same question over and over
and things like that. I spoke to her oncologist and he silently said with raised
eyebrows, tightened lips and a shrug,
‘there might be a problem’.
Anesthesia administered during surgery for a severely broken
ankle on August 1, dragged her deeply into the nether world which, up until
then, had only been toying with her. Now
it grabbed her and yanked her in. On September 24 a heart attack (A-Fib)
resolved any uncertainty. Her “Fog” or CRCD (Cancer Related Cognitive
Dysfunction) was diagnosed as Alzheimer’s Disease. Quicksand could not have
been more efficient. Onward and downward.
The hospital and rehab stay after the ankle surgery had
lasted 20 days and the days spent in the hospital and rehab after the A-Fib
attack lasted 33 days. She thought I had moved her into a new apartment and was
wondering why I would not stay there at night. Like a good “soldier” she would
wait patiently, hour after hour after hour, until I returned the next day. Then,
like a three year old who had been found by her daddy, her face would light up
and she would say, “Oh thank God, you found me.” She knew she was “saved” and
would hug me tight and not let go.
I freely admit that every damn day on the way home I cried
thinking of how sad this was. My intelligent, independent, wife had become a
lost child, the victim of an insidious demon inside her head who was erasing
her brain. I had turned into a blubbering idiot. This Alzheimer’s thing was
surely a despicable foe.
Marty returned home on October 26 with a bag full of new
medications and a mind that was telling her that I had moved her into a ‘new’
house. She asked me if we “were married’, if we would sleep together in the
same bed and if, in fact, her piano was new. After two weeks she had recovered some of (not all) her sense of belonging in “her home”. She was still not sure where
things should go and kept moving items from here to there without me knowing. I have
(so far) had to search hi and low for the shampoo, the toothpaste, parmigianna
cheese, combs and hairbrush etc. So be it—together we plod forward with her
doing whatever she will do and me learning to (at all times) expect the
unexpected. This is a minute to minute journey, unplanned, without a
destination and very spontaneous. But—there
can be beautiful moments and yesterday one unexpectedly came along.
Marty has played piano since she was a child and is quite an
accomplished pianist. A concern of mine while she was in rehab was that she
might not remember how to play. I have been told she will actually forget how
to. Yesterday, those concerns were put on hold.
I was in my cluttered, paper strewn office staring at the
computer monitor when piano music began filling the house. I smiled to myself
as I began to listen and then I realized this was something different. This was
not the usual Marty, this was a transcendent
Marty. I could not believe what I was hearing. She was playing the most
beautiful music I had ever heard her
play. “Stella by Starlight” filled the rooms followed by “Autumn Leaves” and
then, my favorite, Chopin’s Major in E flat. I watched from the hallway and saw
that she was lost within the music that she was bringing forth on that old
piano.
Watching her play was like observing one of God’s
magnificent flowers fully bloom. Realizing that these were now fleeting moments soon to be no more I had the good
sense to record the entire hour that she
played. I figured that when she does
forget how to play and does not recognize the piano or maybe even me, that
music will still be here. That is when I will play it for her. Maybe, just maybe, from whatever world she is
in, she will take pause and smile. Maybe she will remember some of her music.
Maybe, just maybe…
Labels:
A-Fib,
Alzheimer's Disease,
chemo,
commentary,
CRCD (Cancer related Cognitive Dysfunction),
God,
Lymphoma,
oncologist,
Pet Scan,
piano
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