The Cruelty of Alzheimer's

In one of my favorite movies, The Shawshank Redemption, Ellis (Red) Redding (played by one of my favorite actors, Morgan Freeman) is re-united with his friend, Andy Dufresne (played by Tim Robbins), after Red is finally paroled from Shawshank Prison, having served for 40 years.  At the time Red first was imprisoned, he'd been a "stupid kid" who'd committed murder during a robbery - after 40 years, he was an old man, deeply regretful of his terrible crime.  One message of the movie is that hope is a good thing, and good things never die.  In the movie, Andy and Red had 20 years together in prison and the movie ends with them being re-united ...

A bit more than 40 years ago, I first met someone who has been my friend ever since.  Those who know me may well know of whom I speak, but I'll not mention his name here.  What's happened is my friend is a victim of early onset Alzheimer's Disease.  His symptoms appeared before he was 60 years old!  As it has progressed, it first took away his ability to work - he was forced to retire because he could no longer do his life's work at the high level that he had established.  For my friend, this was a cruel blow, as he has been one of the best in the world at his job and loved his work, as I have.

It also took away something he was looking forward to at the end of his professional career - he had a hobby he cared for almost as much as his work, and anticipated being able to give it the time that his professional life didn't allow.  That, too, has been taken from him.  Those adventures he planned have never come to pass.

As time has passed, he has become less and less capable of doing things for himself.  He can no longer drive - he forgets where he was going, forgets how to get there, and forgets even how to find his way home.  He doesn't know how to work a seat belt.  He struggles taking the top off a water bottle or putting money away in his wallet.

Yesterday, he looked me in the eyes and asked, "Do I know you?"  Yes, I said, "We've been friends for 40 years." He stared at me in amazement.  He couldn't remember my name, or much about what we had done that day.  For all intents and purposes, the confident, supremely competent, generously helpful man that has been my friend for 40 years ... is gone.  He still has moments when the person we've known and loved peeks out from behind the fog of Alzheimer's Disease, but those moments don't last long and they only serve to remind him that he's losing his memories and his life.  That may be the cruelest part of all about this terrible disease:  he's known what inevitably was going to happen but could only watch as it has slowly and remorselessly taken things away.  His body continues to function reasonably well, but the person I've known for 4 decades is virtually gone - all that defined his personality and character are now just memories.  Memories, of course, are precisely what he no longer has.  It's as if those things never happened for him, now. 

Words cannot describe how painful it's been to watch this decline.  Today, my friend is gone, for all intents and purposes.  I knew this would happen.  I knew this day would come.  I knew that a 40-year friendship would come to be a lost memory for him.  Now that it's arrived, I'm somewhat depressed, but I still have my memories of that time and the adventures and experiences he shared with me over the years.  That's what keeps me from being really shaken by all of this.  My memories may not be as sharp as they were, but most of them are still with me.  I miss my friend, but he's given us a very meaningful legacy, a host of treasured memories shared - not just mine, but those of the many people whose lives he touched in a positive way.  I can endure this, but it hurts.

Alzheimer's is a cruel disease, and there are other degenerative diseases that can have similar results.  I know, because another long-time friend of mine is being victimized by a different disease - but with similar results:  faculties once razor-sharp now dulled into non-existence.  Another once-capable friend is slipping away from me, bit by bit, even as I type this.

If you have a chance to contribute to seeking cures for these intensely cruel degenerative diseases, please don't hesitate to do so.  And if you know victims, you should do as much as possible to interact with them while they still can enjoy it.  Your time with your friends (and family) is precious in any case.  You never know when it might be lost forever.

Hope may never die, but friends (and family) do.  The very worst part of growing older is losing your friends and family ...