A Slow Death

Yesterday when Jim and I got to Bethesda, dad and mom were in the lobby.  Dad had already been there 45 minutes and decided to surprise us.  I know he meant it to be a happy surprise, but it wasn't.  Truth is, we find any "improvement" depressing.  If mom were recovering from a stroke or surgery, it would be different.  But, with Alzheimer's, "improvements" just delay the only true recovery, the blessing of life after death.

Alzheimer's is often referred to as a "slow death."  It's certainly true with mom.  We literally have been watching her die for over 10 years.  But as sad as that's been, the worse part is also watching the window of opportunity for dad to realize his dreams of travel quickly closing. He simply refuses to leave town while mom's alive. 

Dad's 80 years old with an inoperable artery that's 50-percent blocked. Nevertheless, he's more active than most people I know half his age, and lives alone. Mom never strains herself and is being cared for by a team of healthcare professionals.  I'm beginning to believe what Jim's been warning for years.  The odds are not in dad's favor.

Angie Dickinson's sister died of Alzheimer's when she was in her 50s.  When Larry King asked Dickinson what she would tell someone whose loved one had been diagnosed with the disease she said, "pray for death."  My prayers continue.