Alzheimer's is a Slow Motion Nightmare

In my father's case, he might have caught this debilitating illness many years before anyone knew what was happening. Many years prior, he started mouthing out words but was unable to speak. Everyone thought it was a joke because he was a natural-born comedian and a great one. Someone would say something to him, like ask him a question or something and he would just go through the motions of answering but seemed stunted for words.

I know you've probably heard this many times, but my father (Of Blessed Memory) was the greatest father you could ever have. Life wasn't easy for him at all times either. He had a very abusive father "from the Old Country" who used to beat him unconscious with a belt. And my brother was born with a very serious handicap. My father was a beer and food vendor in the old Madison Square Garden and several other arenas in New York and Boston. He was such a great worker his peers labeled him "the Hustler" because they had never seen a man work as hard as he could and did. He ate strictly kosher, and I think it's amazing for a man who sold hundreds of thousands of hot dogs he never ate a single one of them. One 'flaw' he had was he liked beer a bit. He sold that also, and had unlimited access to it. I think that contributed to his final condition as well.

I always lived with him and my mother (Of Blessed Memory) until she died in 1988. She didn't have Alzheimer's. She died of other complications from diabetes and the like. Excess smoking and other matters. When she died my father did not exhibit any of the symptoms of Alzheimer's except for the inability to speak at times.

Then one day a few years after my mother died it kicked in like a rocket. He woke up one morning and started asking me "are you sure it's 8:30 am?" When I assured him it was, he refused to believe it. Of course I was a little baffled by this behavior. I didn't know what the profound importance of it being 8:30 am or 9:30 am or even 10 am was.

The strange thing is we had a car, and he used to run errands with the car even after the debilitation kicked in. No one ever imagined there would be a problem driving his car, and surprisingly there wasn't. He was always able to drive the car ok, and find his way home. Although we started peeking out the window a bit more often to make sure. But he did. In hindsight of course it was wrong to let him drive the car as he started deteriorating more and more.

Slowly but surely my father was deteriorating. He used to 'hear voices' in the hallway and run screaming outside the house to see who was there. Of course there was no one there. He starting going to the intercom more often to answer people who had never rung. He started hiding money in different places of the house, then accuse me of stealing the money because he couldn't find it anymore.

When he slept he looked like he was dying. He had a condition where while lying in his bed his mouth was gaping open and he would not breathe for many minutes on end and I didn't know if it was the proper thing to wake him or not.

One plus is he was still able to feed and clothe himself. That little accomplishment was never taken away from him. Although he couldn't cook and never could. That was my mother's and my task.

There were many many more bizarre aspects to this behavior. Finally we thought it was everyone's best interests to seek outside intervention. We contacted RAIN (a senior citizens' help organization in New York similar to the Visiting Nurse Service). They started sending over home health aides. Sometimes they're not too helpful themselves. I had a few experiences with a couple of them and their supervisors.

I don't remember the exact premise, but he was in the hospital for a few days. Perhaps due to some other illness but as far as I remember it wasn't because of the dementia. He was scheduled to return home in just a couple of days.

I got the call that my father had "passed away" in the hospital. That was catastrophic, because I had been visiting him every day and aside from the Alzheimer's he was otherwise healthy. It was a Friday the Thirteenth, too. I went to speak to the two or three men in the room they had been sharing at the Bronx Municipal Hospital Center. Although I will not disclose to you what he died from, it was not dementia. It was another cause.

I must say the dementia got really bad towards the end. A famous New York celebrity at the time told me he was "better off" but I refuse to go along with that. I really miss my father a lot and wish I could have him back. And believe me if you've never lived through this it is something you do not want to happen to a family member.