The Faces of Alzheimer's

The eyes of family members change too. My brother Ron's eyes show the sweet stoicism that men seem born to possess. But looking more intently, I see the bubble of pain beneath the surface. A father's helplessness has to tear at the fibers of a son's heart like a dull blade. My own eyes have too much history in them, I often think. I was the little girl who worshipped her father, and the young woman who hurt him the way daughters do when their love is needy and true. Now I look at him in a soft, maternal way, which still feels odd to me, even after all these years. As if the laws of nature have been turned upside down. My mother's eyes are frequently such deep wells, I have to look away. A 50-year marriage is full of intimate memories that live in the blood of lovers and life partners--memories that are both benediction and punishment. So much life has been shared, and so much has been lost.

I could tell you that I don't fear getting the disease myself because I know how toxic fear is, how paralyzing. But in the next breath I would have to tell you that there are late hours of the night when I lie awake and wonder what fate has in store for me.

At other times, I study photographs of my father from many years ago, or film clips. I don't want to forget how his eyes used to look. Alzheimer's teaches a harsh lesson--that the past is like the rudder of a ship. It keeps you moving through the present, steers you into the future. Without it, without memory, you are unmoored, a wind-tossed boat with no anchor. You learn this by watching someone you love drift away.

I woke last night and listened to the silence. It was a late, deep hour, long after midnight, long before dawn. I thought about how, for someone with Alzheimer's, silence must be like a prison, another corner of the wasteland. There can be nothing soothing or serene about it.

Perhaps the next time members of Congress assemble to decide how much money to set aside for Alzheimer's research, they should be asked to listen to silence differently, as if it were a jail sentence. Maybe then they would look into their hearts and know that if stopping a disease that is stalking so many is not a top priority, we have lost our collective heart as a nation.