We recently discussed Alzheimer’s disease briefly in the chapter about the brain. I would like to share my personal story ,when I was ages 8-14, about my grandma and her struggle with the disease.

Alzheimer’s disease is a progressive and worsening condition causing the sufferer to forget just about everything, bit by bit. The disease is thought to be caused at least somewhat because of a lack of acetylcholine, a neurotransmitter, in te brain which is known to be associated with memory.

It started out as normal dementia does in all elderly people. She would forget little simple things such as, where she put her purse, the remote, or why she had walked into a room. Normal stuff really. After a long while though, her behaviour became more strange. I would go to here apartment often, just to see her and keep her company as she lived alone. I would find that she had put silverware in the fridge, or a frozen box of waffles in the microwave, or just have a carton of milk left out on the counter to spoil. I would point this out to her and she would claim she didn’t know how or why these things were in these unordinary places, and she didn’t remember putting any of the items there.

My mother noticed these symptoms too, and took her to the doctor, where she was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. It was a very shocking moment for me. I knew what Alzheimer’s disease was, but had never known or heard of anybody suffering from the disease. She was put on a number of medications with the most notable on being Tacrine, an inhibitor of acetylcholine metabolism. These treatments did work for the most part and kept her somewhat sane for longer, however we knew from the start they would not stop the disease indefinitely. After a time, she became ever more forgetful, and now was argumentative with my mother and me. She would claim she hasn’t forgotten anything, even though she could not tell us the correct day of the week. Communicating with her was an endless struggle. After, a few more months, my grandma had to be moved to an assisted living home, where she would have caretakers around to make sure she took her medicine, ate her meals, and to help her with daily tasks. Seeing her was more and more depressing each and every time. She would lose more and more by the day, as her condition was worsening at its highest rate. On the bright side, right up until the end, she could still always recognize my mother and me. Nonetheless, communication became even more difficult than before. She would lose words, and just couldn’t say what she wanted to say, the words weren’t there, similar to that of a sufferer of Broca’s aphasia.

Eventually, she had to be moved to a nursing home, where nurses would be around 24/7. We went to see her less and less, as it became increasingly difficult each time. Not long after moving to the nursing home, she was no longer able to walk or say any more than a few words. She depended on nurses for every aspect of her life, including moving, eating, and going to the bathroom. A very poor existence indeed.

Her passing on was bittersweet. It was undoubtedly a gloomy time, although my real Grandma had left years before.