I read about an elderly gentleman who couldn’t reach his feet when stretching.

He stacked copy paper and each day removed a few sheets as he slowly worked toward his goal. By losing only a few sheets per day, he didn’t notice the decline.

This is the way our journey thru Alzheimer’s (I hate you Alzheimer’s) has been. Wayne has declined so markedly over the past year but I really just didn’t notice the insidious affects of the disease.

For instance, one day I realized as I was feeding him, “Hey, when did this happen, I can’t remember!”

When did he no longer recognize a toothbrush? Have been brushing his teeth for so long that his doing it is a faint memory.

When did he no longer speak in sentences? He does manage the odd phrase but no longer sentences.

When did his eyes fail him to the point he no longer is able to focus on an item? I often take my I Pad loaded with beautiful flower pics and when I hold it for him to see, he looks at the ceiling, right or left but never at the pic.

One decline that has never happened is his gentlemanly behavior and his thank you’s. Our son said it best, “Alzheimer’s may have robbed Dad of his memory but not his personality.” Amen to that, dear man. What a battle you have fought for over 14 years.

10 thoughts on “”

  1. I was worried when we hadn’t heard from you in so long, and think of your journey often. With all the negativity of this terrible disease I too am happy that you are seeing Wayne’s personality shine through.

  2. I was wondering what you would say today as I hadn’t heard from you in awhile too.
    I hate that disease too. It is so mean. There is no answer to it.
    I will continue to hold you two in my heart.
    Hugs.

  3. Good to hear from you, Jean. I know what you mean about not really being aware of the big declines. A few months ago, when my mom and I were filling out a questionnaire for the ALF where my dad is now, it was shocking to both of us. No, he doesn’t really speak, no, he doesn’t recognize anyone, no, can’t dress himself, no, no, no. We were both in tears. My sweet, wonderful dad. He’s just 80, and he was diagnosed 9 years ago. We managed at home until he just stopped sleeping at night. I think of you, and keep you and Wayne in my prayers.

  4. Jean–so good to “hear” your voice, even though the news is (unavoidably) that this disease continues its relentless march of destruction.
    So many of us are thinking of you, and saying prayers for you and Wayne.

  5. Have been checking each day, and wondering how things have been for you and Wayne. Am so sorry to hear of the advancement of this dreaded disease in him. Please know…that we are thinking of you while you are in this struggle and caught up in its demands. Thankful to read your updates. Cyber hugs to you both.

  6. You are the true energizer bunny…you never give up. I am sure if the roles were reversed we would be reading posts from Wayne that reflected his great love for you. Love never fails.

  7. What Marsha said. When you go so long without checking in, my mind races through all the possibilities, and none of them are good.

    How blessed you are that he is still polite and that the real Wayne shines through.

  8. This reminds me so much of my late mother. Even as her mind declined and she was in constant pain from a broken hip that never healed properly, she never failed to say, “Please” and “Thank you.”

    I understand Ronald Reagan was the same way, even when he no longer recognized his family and friends. Someone wrote, “He was hard-wired for kindness.” Isn’t that neat?

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