Jack Turley - Alzheimers: Will I Be Next?

ALZHEIMERS: Will I Be Next?

A Remembrance by Jack Turley

ePub: 978-1-58124-285-0

2012 and 2013 by Jack Turley

Published 2013 by LifeLinks,

an imprint of The Fiction Works

Published August 2013 with revised cover art

http://www.fictionworks.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews.

Reviewer Comments

His words flow seamlessly, drawing the reader deeper and deeper into his private world of grief and pain, but its Mr. Turleys total honesty that lingers. If you read just one book this year, please make it this one.

Patricia Lucas White, To Last A Lifetime

As the author watches his mother slip into the developing stages of Alzheimers, he offers a harrowing personal account... Soon Mr. Turley has to make a series of shattering decisions as his mother worsens. It is the authors battles with guilt and anxiety that give the book much power.

Fred Klein, Santa Barbara News Press

Five Stars! All Alzheimers families: a must read. This book provides insight into the ways in which families can deal with this extremely difficult disease. A tender and revealing account of how a son can grapple with the challenges of a mother with Alzheimers, not all happy times but then life is not that way. A must read!

Sammy Clinton, Amazon Reviews

Before Writing This Book . ..

... it was important for me to acknowledgeand ultimately acceptthe startling contrast between the before and after states of mind which co-exist in a victim of Alzheimers disease.

The before state embraces all those unique qualities we know so well in that whole human person we have cherishedthe one who has always thought and reasoned and felt emotions in much the same way that we do.

This remembrance, however, is not simply a compilation of only those events which are familiar and comfortable. It also reflects a harder dimension, the after state. This is the stuff that is not so easy for us, the outsiders, to comprehendthat impels our every reflex to reject what we see happening.

In watching my mothers descent into the worsening dementia that so vividly characterizes Alzheimers disease, I have witnessed the horrendous transmutations of mind and body which inevitably happen when this affliction strikes.

I believe there is a worthwhile purpose in sharing this vision of a wretched truth. Perhaps it will offer a measure of comfort to those who must find their own ways of endurance as they watch someone they love make this same sorrowful one-way journey into the ever-deepening shadows of AD. Jack Turley

Chapter 1

I can see changes, cant you?

The day was cold and we were walking at a fast clip. I need to talk to you.

Jesse exhaled a frosty breath as he glanced at my somber expression. What about?

Mom...

Our stride slowed. He raised a wary eyebrow. What about her?

I had coerced my stepfather outside on the pretense of wanting company for a walk around the block. I was home for a visit and the apartment where my parents lived was small, just right for two but very crowded for three. Moms close proximity in the kitchen, humming contentedly over her cooking chores, made it impossible to discuss with Jesse what I perceived as one more indication of a problem I had suspicioned for months.

Havent you noticed some of the things shes been doing? I said it with a solemn frown, expecting instant accord. All I saw in Jesses reaction was feigned ignorance.

Like what? Whatre you talking about?

Im talking about yesterday, the pecan pie.

So what.

Jesses bland expression continued to fend off my challenging gaze.

What do you mean so what? I waited for his response, jaws clinched. Jesse picked up the pace, as if trying to outrun the question. I could see he was struggling with a secret sadness, but in an instant he had covered it with a dismissing shrug. Forget it. Just forget it.

Jesses eyes stared straight ahead. His seeming indifference annoyed me. I locked step with him, respecting his silence for longer than I wanted to.

Come on, Jesse, dont you think it was a little weird?

Let it go...

His protective reflexes were armed and ready, but I was determined.

Moms never done anything like that.

Jesse didnt want to agree with me, even though deep down in the honest part of himself I think he knew that sooner or later he would have to. His gaze shifted, measuring his own footsteps.

You dont know her, you dont live with her.

That interior flash of sadness I had seen Jesse so quickly camouflage was beginning to leak through the barrier. This was no longer a discussion, it was two men struggling to come to terms with an undeniable truth about someone they both loved. I pressed the point harder.

Somethings wrong. I can see changes, cant you?

She forgets, thats all. Who doesnt?

Jesse, she made the pie and put it in the oven but she didnt turn on the gas... My voice had taken on an edge of disbelief.... it just sat there in the oven without baking.

Dont worry about it. Shes done stuff like that before.

I know. Thats what Im talking about.

I retreated into my own incredulous silence. Surely theres been a mistake, it couldnt be my mother. She was infallible, she was perfect, especially in the kitchen. I wanted Jesse to give me a plausible reason why she had failed, but his mechanism for handling this particular truth continued to resist assault. He knew I wasnt buying into his evasions and he tried to divert me with an elbow nudge.

Its not worth arguing about.

Im not arguing.

Okay, so forget it.

Jesse was still into denial. Not me, I wanted confirmation. I wanted him to say it out loud, what we had both observed happening to Mom in a hundred subtle ways. We were walking side by side, but there was a vast emotional chasm now separating us. Again I tried to pry open this uncomfortable topic, softening my voice into a more negotiable tone.

Jesse, its not just being forgetful.

Okay, okay...

Did you know I had to completely re-do the checkbook?

Im watching the money.

Mom had always been the dependable family exchequer for the two of them and here I was, faithless son, challenging her time-proven skills.

Its as if she doesnt know what to do sometimes.

We manage. Quit worrying about it.

We had barely reached the end of the block before we spun around and headed back, too caught up in our disagreement to even notice we had aborted our walk. I kept picking away at Jesses defenses.

I think we should take her to the doctor.

What for?

He could make some tests, whatever he does.

I saw the stab of pain behind Jesses gaze when I said doctorbut he still refused to give me the confirmation I wanted. Bluster was the only defense left.

To hell with doctors. All they do is take the money and they dont do a damn thing.

We were rapidly closing on the apartment where Mom would be waiting to serve us supper, her daily labor of love for her family. I reached out to snare Jesses arm.

Jesse, you know about Alzheimers, dont you?

She had a stroke in her sleep, thats all.

Yes, I know about the stroke, but Im talking about something else.

Jesse jerked his arm free, as if severing himself from such a preposterous concept.

Youre not a doctor. Theres nothing wrong.

We walked on, both of us buried in a silent gloom. Jesse and Mom were about to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary in several months and I could see he was fiercely determined to protect their mutual investment in each other. I also knew his knowledge of the disease was only a superficial awareness, as mine had once been. But the fear of it, the probability of it, had clearly imprinted itself in his denial.