My wonderful, humorous, full-of-life mother, who developed severe dementia (TIA's), did not have Alzheimer's--but in many ways her illness resembled it. (The main difference, I believe, is that even when she could not function without 24 hour care--she knew what was wrong with her...and knew the family.) She got increasingly worse over a period of about 8 years...the depression being the worst of it. Her death several years ago was from bad heart disease...not the dementia. Those eight years were the worst of my life. She could describe everything she was feeling, and, a few years before she died, used the analogy of her mind as "butter, slipping through my fingers." She was in a very bad state by then--yet she spoke those words and held up her hand to show the "butter slipping through."
My twin sister and I had her in an apt. in our building, with 24 hour care those last two years. Four years later, I still remember everything she went through in such detail. Only now is it getting--thankfully--a bit more blurred.
Watching that PBS show on Alzheimer's was just about the most difficult program I've ever sat through. Only my strong need to know more about the disease kept me watching. It was the most powerful and informative presentation of just what Alzheimer's does to both the victim and the family. Particularly horrifying to me was the woman, who's emotional state switched so dramatically every two seconds....I just felt there was still a part of her brain that was aware of the horrors she was going through. It reminded me of my Mom--not the behavior--but having an awarenes that you have literally "lost your mind." I couldn't sleep that night and had to read for hours to get my mind distracted.
PBS is the first television network that has made such a "real" documentary about this disease. As one of the first of the Baby Boomers, I watched it with some real personal fear....even though at 58, all I suffer from, is a lousy memory.
Just wanted to say that I read this board every few weeks....and know how hard it is for everyone on it. The one thing that probably saved the the lives of my sister and I during that period was our very sick, dark sense of humor (inherited by our Dad, who passed away in 1977.) Many was the time we could tease my Mom--and she would laugh and hug us. The instant we walked into her apartment--and she knew we were there--she'd have a sparkle in her amazing blue eyes that lasted until the day she died. My sister and I are so thankful for that memory.
Lynn