"Who are you again?" Fighting to remember with Alzheimer's.

I've heard that Alzheimer's is a horrific disease. 26.6 million people were affected by it in 2006 - that number is estimated to quadruple by 2050. I know of at least two people who've suffered from it. And I know the loved ones of these people who have suffered from it as well. Recently I had my first direct, long-term contact with Alzheimer's' patient, and I can now unequivocally say that Alzheimer's IS horrific.

During the holidays, I spent four days housesitting for a friend. Part of our arrangement was that I check in on my friend's elderly in-laws who live nearby. I prepared their breakfast and dinner and kept them company for a bit.

"Jane" (as I will refer to her as) is suffering from Alzheimer's - it's just setting in. Seems like a cold way to describe it - "setting in". "Jane" would seemingly spend "hours" searching for breakfast food while I'm preparing dinner or looking for the butter in the refrigerator when I had already given it to her to place it on the table just a minute ago. One second she's recalling with great detail how she met her husband during WWII in San Francisco. The next minute she's putting ice cream in the cupboard and calling me "Thomas" - believing me to be her son.

I stated earlier that I was uncertain as to who suffers most from Alzheimer's - the patient or the those surrounding the patient. I can only imagine what's going through "Jane's" husband's mind...what he has to deal with 24/7. This is his wife, his lover and his friend. But he never made any mention of Alzheimer's to me, per se. He'd comment, "where is she off to?" or "there she goes again", but he never mentioned the word, "Alzheimer's". I can only imagine what her children are going through, seeing Mom slowly deteriorate the way she is.

Then I thought of myself, keeping "Jane" and her husband company a few hours at breakfast and a few hours at dinner for four days. I can't tell you the frustration on my part when "Jane" would suddenly morph into a funk, while my dinner is setting on the table getting cold. Or when she can't find her fork and yet there are two on the table right next to her and three others she just set out on the kitchen counter top. My frustration? How selfish, yet that's the reality of Alzheimer's. It's the outsiders who see the terrible toll this wretched disease is inflicting on their loved one. Early on, the patient has an idea of what's happening to them, but there's nothing they can do about it. They struggle, forget, hesitate and move on. That's all they can do. They have no choice.

It's easy to feel sadness toward an Alzheimer's patient. To think of what they used to be like - what their mind used to be like. But you can just as easily think how strong that person is for not giving up the fight - not just quite yet. The determination to try and push forward, to try and remember, to struggle but try and make sense of it. To try.

In the end, I realize that this disease will rob "Jane" of all her memory and, eventually, her life. So I will cherish those four days I spent with her and her husband. It will be my "lifetime of memories" that I will not forget.

I hope.