Come with me on a roller coaster! Many roller coasters I remember riding with my dad as a child seemed similar. They were something like this:
You sit in a seat, and make sure you are securely buckled. You begin to slowly move straight ahead, and then, you begin going up a steep hill. It's almost like you are tugging along until you get to the very top. When you finally reach the peak, there is a small bump, and then you pick up speed while going around a corner. Then, you head straight down! AAAAAAGGGHHH!!! You are terrified! You hit the bottom of the hill, and find a sense of relief. The relief is only momentary because suddenly you are speeding, speeding, SPEEDING around corners and over small hills...but you're still okay....you are just hanging on for dear life! You feel the car pick up speed again as it brings you up, and then takes you upside down in a corkscrew. You begin to panic. You feel out of sorts. You go straight again, and begin to relax a little, but then you feel the speed increasing, once again, and you are taken upside down. You feel yourself being twisted and turned, and you hope that this moment will pass quickly...because it isn't very comfortable, and it is actually quite stressful and terrifying. Finally, you begin straightening out, but you are surprised by a few quick turns, and hills, and bumps, and then you feel everything begin to slow down and you come back to where you started... there is calm, and peace. You are relieved that it is over.
It sounds stressful, doesn't it? This is the best description I can give when Alzheimer's becomes part of your life. It.is.stressful. It is a roller coaster with hills and bumps, and death-defying drops, and fear, and doubt, and unknowns...oh, the many unknowns. This is one of those posts that won't be very encouraging. I don't like those very much, but if we are truly going to be honest about this disease, then we would be doing others a disservice if we did not include this information.
Alzheimer's is very much like a roller coaster. You are going through life, and then it seems that you are in something of an uphill battle. You see your loved one forget things, and misplace things, and display odd behaviors. It can get frustrating when you can't understand why an adult can't complete a simple task. When I sat with my dad and a doctor, and the doctor asked my dad to draw the face of a clock, I could not believe my dad's response. He drew a few scribbles and that was it. I knew if he couldn't do such a simple task, there were far more difficult things he could not do either. It was heartbreaking to watch him struggle.
Perhaps that first bump, when you reach the top of the hill, is the confirmed diagnosis of Alzheimer's. You sail along around a curve, and things don't seem too bad, and then the massive hill is before you, and you find yourself free-falling, and it feels very much out of control. That out-of-control, downward fall is sickness. For my dad, it was a Urinary Tract Infection in July of 2013. Illness, any kind of illness, can bring a downward turn so fast that you can hardly catch your breath, and you feel lost and confused. You might catch a small reprieve, but then this nasty disease hits another part of the brain and you end up in a corkscrew that sends you spinning, and grasping to find out what is wrong, and how to help this person that you see changing before your very eyes. You continue to gather your wits about you, but you continue to be caught off-guard by twists and turns and bumps, and hills, and when you think you are managing those things, you are off spiraling upside down again. This time, you wonder if you will ever be able to relax again, but the turns become fewer, your loved one becomes less-abled, you continue to hit a few more bumps, and then things begin to straighten out and you ride on to the end of the line. You say goodbye. You are glad it is over, for now there is peace. You would do it all over again if it meant that you were able to spend time with that person who has just had the ride of his life. Still, you wish you could have chosen another ride. One with less twists, and turns, and ups, and downs, and pain. It is done. You cannot go back. You don't wish to do it again. You must move on.
We are still experiencing many twists and turns with my dad. I know they will become fewer at some point. Every time my mom calls (I talk to her almost daily), I feel myself tense up because I don't know what news she will have of my dad for that day. There are many ups and downs. It is very difficult. Just when we think his doctor's have found a good balance of his medications, something else happens and we are back to the drawing board. Each patient is different. The ride may not be so rough for some. Regardless, it's always a ride that no one would choose. Some day this ride will be over. We will continue to look back at the twists and turns. Somehow...we will move on. In the end, God's grace is sufficient...this disease just causes us to hold on to Him for dear life.
You sit in a seat, and make sure you are securely buckled. You begin to slowly move straight ahead, and then, you begin going up a steep hill. It's almost like you are tugging along until you get to the very top. When you finally reach the peak, there is a small bump, and then you pick up speed while going around a corner. Then, you head straight down! AAAAAAGGGHHH!!! You are terrified! You hit the bottom of the hill, and find a sense of relief. The relief is only momentary because suddenly you are speeding, speeding, SPEEDING around corners and over small hills...but you're still okay....you are just hanging on for dear life! You feel the car pick up speed again as it brings you up, and then takes you upside down in a corkscrew. You begin to panic. You feel out of sorts. You go straight again, and begin to relax a little, but then you feel the speed increasing, once again, and you are taken upside down. You feel yourself being twisted and turned, and you hope that this moment will pass quickly...because it isn't very comfortable, and it is actually quite stressful and terrifying. Finally, you begin straightening out, but you are surprised by a few quick turns, and hills, and bumps, and then you feel everything begin to slow down and you come back to where you started... there is calm, and peace. You are relieved that it is over.
It sounds stressful, doesn't it? This is the best description I can give when Alzheimer's becomes part of your life. It.is.stressful. It is a roller coaster with hills and bumps, and death-defying drops, and fear, and doubt, and unknowns...oh, the many unknowns. This is one of those posts that won't be very encouraging. I don't like those very much, but if we are truly going to be honest about this disease, then we would be doing others a disservice if we did not include this information.
Alzheimer's is very much like a roller coaster. You are going through life, and then it seems that you are in something of an uphill battle. You see your loved one forget things, and misplace things, and display odd behaviors. It can get frustrating when you can't understand why an adult can't complete a simple task. When I sat with my dad and a doctor, and the doctor asked my dad to draw the face of a clock, I could not believe my dad's response. He drew a few scribbles and that was it. I knew if he couldn't do such a simple task, there were far more difficult things he could not do either. It was heartbreaking to watch him struggle.
Perhaps that first bump, when you reach the top of the hill, is the confirmed diagnosis of Alzheimer's. You sail along around a curve, and things don't seem too bad, and then the massive hill is before you, and you find yourself free-falling, and it feels very much out of control. That out-of-control, downward fall is sickness. For my dad, it was a Urinary Tract Infection in July of 2013. Illness, any kind of illness, can bring a downward turn so fast that you can hardly catch your breath, and you feel lost and confused. You might catch a small reprieve, but then this nasty disease hits another part of the brain and you end up in a corkscrew that sends you spinning, and grasping to find out what is wrong, and how to help this person that you see changing before your very eyes. You continue to gather your wits about you, but you continue to be caught off-guard by twists and turns and bumps, and hills, and when you think you are managing those things, you are off spiraling upside down again. This time, you wonder if you will ever be able to relax again, but the turns become fewer, your loved one becomes less-abled, you continue to hit a few more bumps, and then things begin to straighten out and you ride on to the end of the line. You say goodbye. You are glad it is over, for now there is peace. You would do it all over again if it meant that you were able to spend time with that person who has just had the ride of his life. Still, you wish you could have chosen another ride. One with less twists, and turns, and ups, and downs, and pain. It is done. You cannot go back. You don't wish to do it again. You must move on.
We are still experiencing many twists and turns with my dad. I know they will become fewer at some point. Every time my mom calls (I talk to her almost daily), I feel myself tense up because I don't know what news she will have of my dad for that day. There are many ups and downs. It is very difficult. Just when we think his doctor's have found a good balance of his medications, something else happens and we are back to the drawing board. Each patient is different. The ride may not be so rough for some. Regardless, it's always a ride that no one would choose. Some day this ride will be over. We will continue to look back at the twists and turns. Somehow...we will move on. In the end, God's grace is sufficient...this disease just causes us to hold on to Him for dear life.
God is still good...always.
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