Where to Begin

I watched the Alzheimer's special about Glen Campbell today and just visited Maria Shriver's website.  I wish I had not done this.

All of the stories about Alz patients end the exact same way.  Loved ones die.  People who were intelligent, vibrant, and engaging become forgetful, withdrawn, and paranoid.  They become helpless.  And they die.

I cannot wrap my head around this eventuality.  I am going to lose my mother to this horrible disease.

Of course, I do not know this yet because we do not have a definitive diagnosis.  And as long as some members of my family bask in the luxury and carelessness of their wanton igorance, I just have to try to stay calm.  I just need to pray.

I am she of little faith...

The website invites caregivers to share their stories, and I was tempted, but for what purpose?  To know that one day someone will be desperate for answers and may stumble across my ramblings and discover that they too are going through Hell?  Yes, this is hell, even on days when we only have a minor meltdown.

By minor meltdown, I mean on a day when there is only one slammed door or perhaps one indignant declaration that she is in charge and that it is her house and whatever else she decides someone has not appropriately acknowledged.  On those days when the meltdowns are more like thermal nuclear reactions, well...

And this is what I do not see in the stories of others--how to deal with someone who is determined to be angry about any little thing.  Someone who has become so self-centered and totally unaware of the tumult she causes with her anger, especially when the target of her ire can barely reason herself.  How are we supposed to diffuse those atom bombs?  I guess the answer is to take cover.