Posted 4-2-20
Hi all. Sorry to come down from yesterday’s fun story to reality, but I must. (Note: I am also short of time today, so this is just a quick, but important, point.)
Yesterday I was treated to a 2-hour webinar from our state’s chapter of the Alzheimer’s Association. It was very informative! The panel of speakers discussed everything from research in cures to prevention to the history of the disease. I will admit, not because I am somehow smart, but because I have been forced to study this disease so thoroughly for three years now, that I am seldom shocked or overly impressed by new information on the topic, unless it is fancy sciencey stuff using Latin and/or 4 syllable words. However, yesterday’s was an exception. I learned several new concepts worth exploring in coming days. My point of today’s piece is the question I was fortunate to be able to ask.
My question (paraphrased): “My mother is in final stage dementia. In the realm of research for a cure, is everything focused on disease arrest (stopping the advance of the disease) or is their any hope for restorative properties in a cure and/or the brain’s own adaptability. In other words, is brain volume lost in the disease “permanent” insomuch as the parts that are damaged are irreplaceable such that where my mom is is the best she could ever be?”
Summary: “Does my mom have hope?”
The panel’s response was what I expected: a less-than-good-bedside-manner, science-based statement (paraphrased, in my interpretation’s slant slightly): “The challenge of merely arresting the disease is staggering. If we could do that, we could stop it before the damage was done and the rest would be ***moot. We could, then, focus on therapies not unlike a stroke patient.”
***Moot= “Your mom is gonna die, dude. Accept it.”
Not that it is new information here, but it was painfully reinforced by this still very nice, knowledgeable, and slightly robotic science panel…that mom will die. There is no hope of restoring anything. Don’t pass go, don’t collect $200. I need to focus on reality, not the “science fiction” as they directly, rightly implied of restoring the brain. This, friends, is the difference in a good nurse and a scientist. A good nurse couches reality lovingly in a bundle of chocolate-covered marshmallows and unicorns flying over rainbows…and a scientist (often unknowingly) scoffs and rips off the band-aid with spiked gloves on.
So…reality check: Mom is hopeless, minus a miracle. Death is expected. Hospice says sooner than later.
So, what do I do with this information?
Do I count on a miracle? I hope for one…but I count on eternity.
Do I expect a miracle? No, but I expect that He can create the world with a spoken word, so it is on the table as an option…but I expect a cure to be eternal in nature.
As I sit outside of the Shawshank prison, attempting to tie an “I miss you momma” note on a balloon and send them over the concertina wire on top of the prison walls during the lock down, I ask: Is any of this new information? Sadly, no. But it was another reality check…a brick removed from my wall of denial. A little mocking by the same devil who thought he defeated Jesus around 2000 years ago..until to Easter Sunday stepped on his throat. We shall see. Victory over this mess will happen, one way or another. And THAT is reality.
#EndALZ
Update: Had a nice Facetime with mom again yesterday. She seems distant, but about the same. It isn’t the same, but it isn’t nuthin’ either… I miss my Andy Griffith time with her. 🙁