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By: Amy Nimmer My mom started showing signs of dementia when she was in her 70s. She lived alone as my father had passed away from cancer years before. She was incredibly independent and strong, so when she started getting confused with the simplest everyday task, we knew something was wrong. We took her to a neurologist who tested her by asking some questions, which she could not answer and confirmed that she was showing signs of dementia. The most frustrating part when I heard the diagnosis was that there was nothing they could prescribe or suggest to improve the situation. It made us feel so hopeless as we saw the disease progress. We moved my mom to a wonderful care facility where she was able to live independently for a couple of years before she moved to assisted living and then to the healthcare/memory care unit. It was incredibly difficult for my mom to leave the home she had raised her family in, however, with our support and the full support of her family, her transition went smoothly. She ended up knowing some friends in the facility and created new relationships, too. When she moved to the healthcare/memory care area, I was certain it would be a short stay, however, I was very wrong. This is the place where she thrived. The ratio of healthcare professionals to patients increased. They provide music therapy and other activities she enjoys. She had progressed far enough with the disease that she no longer had anxiety about what was happening. She settled into a very stable environment where she found happiness, comfort and love. The healthcare facility has become her home and in some ways her family. They got to know my mom before the disease took over. And they take great care in acknowledging and understanding her past life in how they treat her for the future. They genuinely provide loving care for her. The hardest part of Alzheimer’s disease is the feeling of hopelessness as you watch it progress with someone you love so deeply. The hardest moments for my mom were when she knew her memory was failing, and she felt tremendous anxiety in trying to do the simplest things. I took comfort in being there for her, like holding her hand and having conversations with her that she could understand without feeling ashamed of her memory loss. I worked proactively with my three other siblings to help them understand her struggles with everyday tasks and find the right care for her. Caregivers need to know when they need help. The facility where my mom lives helps her stay healthy and safe. They allow me to have a better relationship with mom because I don’t have to worry about her anymore or deal with the stresses of what everyday care can bring. I can visit her and just focus on creating special moments with her. My mom greets everyone in the memory care unit with a hug, and some days she can find the words to say “beautiful,” meaning, “you are beautiful.” She used to say that all the time to me and other people she knew. Residents and workers seek her out when they are having a bad day for that special hug. We are blessed that she is happy and content despite the disease. Alzheimer’s is truly an insidious and dreadful disease. It strips away the very essence of life and leaves behind a shell of a person, who must find their way through the darkness. For my mom, life comes down to special moments: times when she laughs, hugs, and constantly chatters in her own language. Occasionally, there is a coherent flow of words, which I cherish. She has taught all of us that happiness comes from within. What makes her happy is very simple—being surrounded by people who love her and by living in a safe, comfortable environment. It’s the simple things in life that truly matter.

I never really considered myself a caregiver. Mom had lived alone since I moved out many years ago. She handled herself well, as she had her entire life. As I saw the signs of dementia, I started paying more visits, more frequently. Not that I needed a reason to pop in, but this made me feel better. She was still taking care of herself, but I noticed she wasn’t eating as well. I did most of her shopping for her, so I could tell. This was a sign that she wasn’t “just getting old.” At that point, it was obvious that Mom shouldn’t be driving, so I’d take her to her appointments. Although this was a bit of a change of lifestyle and routine for me, I really didn’t give it a second thought. I never really considered myself as a caregiver, just helping Mom. mom with all her grandchildren Things went bad fast, though. Mom fell at home and had to be taken to the hospital. She had surgery to repair an injured shoulder. This was the turning point. It was as if the injury accelerated all of the symptoms. She was confused, scared, and unsure what was going on. This is when the doctor said she couldn’t go home. I had about 24 hours to figure out what to do. I needed to find a facility that could take her right away because I simply didn’t have the resources to take her into our home. I was fortunate to find a place a few minutes from my home, and they could take her upon her release. I was relieved and scared. This was probably the most heart-wrenching thing I’ve ever had to do. I was putting Mom in a nursing home?! I remember like it was yesterday. I was trying to be so strong. We took her in and got her all settled. It was a good place, for her and for me. When one of the staff took her for a walk, I broke down and cried for the first of many times. I don’t remember ever crying so hard. The staff was great. They reassured me that this was best place and she’d be well cared for. This is when I turned from caregiver (which I don’t believe I really was) to a love giver. There were so many tough times. I think because I was the most frequent visitor, she remembered me the most, the longest. The day came when I knew she wasn’t sure who I was, at least that I could see. I still believe deep inside she knew. Don’t ever think your loved one has “forgotten you.” You need to hold onto that. You may have to pull your hand from theirs when you go to leave. It hurts so badly. They may yell at you. You have to fake a smile. You just have to remember, they are your mother or father or brother or sister. Someone you love. And they love you as they always have, unconditionally. And they deserve the same thing in return. They are the same person, but a disease is holding them hostage. Tragically, but realistically, someday this disease will take them from you. There just isn’t a cure yet. But give them all you have to give. Haven’t they done the same for you? In October I was lucky enough to be a part of the ALZ Stars team running in the Chicago marathon. I am fortunate enough to have friends (and strangers!) contribute to the cause. The Illinois group raised over a half a million dollars. As great as that sounds, I’m afraid it’s only a small amount of what is needed to find a cure. I am already starting to plan a few fundraisers in hopes of doing much more next year. As you look out for and help your loved one, you’ll feel stresses and emotions that may be unfamiliar. Please don’t be afraid to ask for help. A lot of people say this disease is harder on the loved ones that the victim. That’s not my place to say, but you will be tested. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. And you still need to take care of yourself, physically and mentally. Reach out. There are so many of us with shoulders you can cry on. And don’t be afraid to smile and laugh. You’ll get one back. It’s damn good medicine for everyone.

By: Cindy Petersen My mother, Grace Whitten, lost her battle with vascular dementia after five years. She started out her life like many other women at that time—raising her children in lieu of education and career. After 25 years of marriage, she found herself divorced with no high school diploma and raising us by herself.  She could have done anything to make ends meet, but she chose to pursue her dream of writing. She obtained her GED and college education all while freelance writing for 15 cents an inch in local newspapers. Over the course of her career, she established herself as an investigative reporter, local award-winning journalist, columnist as well as an editor and bureau chief. She finally retired at age 75, which is when this disease started to present itself. Before the symptoms of dementia appeared, she was passionate about her life’s work and was on pace to work many more years.  However, she discovered one day that she could no longer do simple math, and she would suddenly forget how to say something.  Within two years she was not able to live alone.  Within three years she could not “find the right words” to express herself or even write her own name. In the last six months of her life, she had a rapid loss of skills , sometimes overnight. For instance, one day she woke up and simply forgot how to walk.  It wasn’t that she was physically unable to walk, she just lost the understanding of how to walk.  The worst part of it all was that she was aware of the abilities she was losing and spent her last few years agonizingly and frustratingly trying to recover skills that we knew would never come back.  She was always hopeful, even up until the end. She talked about the day she would learn to write again so she could complete her lifelong goal of writing her autobiography.   Every health care provider and every emergency room visit was always the same – a diagnosis of “normal aging.”  This disease has reached epidemic proportions masquerading itself as “old age,” and families and health care providers continue to struggle with education and support.  Doctors deserve education to diagnose these diseases earlier. Families deserve answers. But most of all, people living with the disease deserve a cure so they can live their life to the fullest.  With early diagnosis, research, family support and education, we want to spare this hardship for other families.  I Was Not Done In memory of Grace Whitten People say it was just my time That I lived long enough That I had a full life That dying is expected I had love to give I had people to meet I had places to see I had goals to accomplish I had hopes for the future I had something to say I had dreams to enjoy I was stolen from my family I was robbed of my memories I was removed from all dignity I was still fighting I was not over I was not old I was not done

By: Jessica Fox My grandfather and I were wrapped around each other’s fingers. Growing up, he jumped on the trampoline and played everything with me from soccer to ping pong, and our favorite sport, basketball. I always rode in the combine with him during harvest and we always ate “too much” ice cream together. (I get my sweet tooth from him). No matter how busy he was, he always made time for his family. My grandparents were junior high sweethearts and had been married for 64 years before he passed away from Alzheimer’s in 2011. I was in high school and watching his mind deteriorate was, and still is, the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. My grandmother, mother, and I would visit him in the nursing home as much as possible. We were “his girls.” Even when he started to really fail, if one of us would place our hand on his, he would try his best to squeeze it. He could not talk or show any emotions, but he knew we were there with him. My grandfather and I were wrapped around each other’s fingers. Growing up, he jumped on the trampoline and played everything with me from soccer to ping pong, and our favorite sport, basketball. I always rode in the combine with him during harvest and we always ate “too much” ice cream together. (I get my sweet tooth from him). No matter how busy he was, he always made time for his family. My grandparents were junior high sweethearts and had been married for 64 years before he passed away from Alzheimer’s in 2011. I was in high school and watching his mind deteriorate was, and still is, the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. My grandmother, mother, and I would visit him in the nursing home as much as possible. We were “his girls.” Even when he started to really fail, if one of us would place our hand on his, he would try his best to squeeze it. He could not talk or show any emotions, but he knew we were there with him. Ever since my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, my family has been donating to the Alzheimer’s Association. It was not until 2015, though, that I became personally involved with the organization. That year, I competed in the Burlington, Iowa RivALZ Blondes vs. Brunettes Powderpuff Flag Football Game. I played in memory of my grandfather and wore his high school number on my jersey with “Grandpa Gene” on the back. I have played on the Blondes team each year since then, and each year I set a goal to raise more money than I did before. So far, I have met that goal and I have raised more than $5,000. However, this year, the game was canceled so things are a little different. I’m also still raising money for the Quincy Walk to End Alzheimer’s, which took place on Saturday, September 14, 2019. I hope to raise at least $2,000 by the end of this year. In addition to these events, I have spread awareness for the Alzheimer’s Association by using my pageant crown as a spotlight. I have participated in various pageants through the Miss America Organization since 2015 and currently, I hold the title of Miss Quincy (IL) 2019. As a titleholder, one must have a platform they are passionate about to promote and support throughout their year. My platform is “Memory Matters – Alzheimer’s Awareness” in honor of my grandfather. During parades, I pass out bookmarks with information about Alzheimer’s to bystanders. These bookmarks are provided by the Quincy Alzheimer’s Association. I also added the Alzheimer’s Association logo to my magnetic car signs. Throughout my year, I have focused on raising awareness and funds through various events, volunteering, and becoming an official spokesperson for the Alzheimer’s Association. My favorite appearance as Miss Quincy is anytime I can perform my 90-second talent. I performed this talent at Miss Quincy and again at Miss Illinois. My talent is speed painting a tree. The painting symbolizes the Alzheimer’s disease and my hope for a cure. The leaves are purple, the color for Alzheimer’s awareness, and the background is grey to represent the grey matter in the brain that is affected when someone gets Alzheimer’s. There are multiple butterflies flying away from the tree, which symbolizes a sign from a loved one in Heaven and/or memories floating away. Among the roots is the Alzheimer’s Association logo in purple glitter. I perform this talent at local memory units and donate the 36”x48” canvas for the residents to enjoy. To help the residents remember and understand the meaning of the painting, I included an “In Loving Memory of Eugene Thorell” framed write-up, which explains the painting while also honoring my grandfather. Being involved with the Alzheimer’s Association is near and dear to my heart because I do not want anyone to experience the pain my family did. Alzheimer’s is hard on the person living with the disease but even harder on the family. Near the end of my grandfather’s life, he could not talk or show any emotions, but he knew when his family was there with him. During his final day with us, I laid beside him with my head on his chest and my grandmother and mother held his hands while he passed away. Again, I know he knew we were there as God took him to his eternal home in Heaven. My grandfather showed love to everyone he met, worked hard for his family, and was a true servant of God. His name was Eugene Thorell, and he was the best man anyone could have ever met. Until we meet again, Grandpa. With love, Jessica

More than 350 people are expected to attend the 13th annual Memory Rock Chicago fundraiser on Thursday, October 3, 2019 at Old Crow Smokehouse in River North. Memory Rock Chicago Committee Chair, Andrew Wiedner, says he became involved with the event when Alzheimer’s disease touched his life personally. “My grandmother, Alyce, lived with Alzheimer’s disease for over 20 years,” says Wiedner. “She was a wonderful person and full of life, but the disease slowly took over and diminished her quality of life. The impact on both the individual and family are significant and something that no one should have to experience. “ Year after year, the Memory Rock Chicago Committee is united by a desire to see an end to this devastating disease. However, according to Wiedner, there is one unique fact about the event’s inception: “Memory Rock was actually started by someone who has no personal connection to the disease.” Steve Monroe, Committee Member and Founder of Memory Rock Chicago, came up with the idea for the rock concert benefit after witnessing his friend’s experience with the disease. “Years ago, I worked with a young woman whose father had passed away after living with younger-onset Alzheimer’s. Unbelievably, her mother was also diagnosed with it,” says Monroe. “As I learned a bit more about Alzheimer’s, we thought it was important to do something and to raise awareness. Thus, we asked Joe’s Sports Bar to host a concert, and we got a couple of local bands to play. It took off from there.” Memory Rock Chicago brings people together from all across Chicagoland for an unforgettable evening of live music, drinks, dancing and more. Guests can also enter to win lavish prizes during the raffle and silent auction, such as Cubs tickets, boxing classes, a signed Rolling Stones album, restaurant gift certificates, Chicago tour tickets, yoga and meditation classes and a signed Tiger Woods Masters Flag. All proceeds from Memory Rock Chicago benefit the Alzheimer’s Association Illinois Chapter, and last year’s event raised more than $116,000 for Alzheimer’s care, support and research efforts. According to Monroe, the concert’s impact has grown substantially over the past 13 years. “We raised about $3,500 at the first event. As the event grew, we gained wonderful sponsors like Bill and Dan Barry, and now we raise over $100,000 per year.” Tickets for Memory Rock Chicago include guest entry, appetizers, open bar, silent auction, raffle, live entertainment and more. Tickets are now on sale and can be purchased online at www.memoryrockchicago.com . “It’s a great time with fun people and big energy from the live bands, all while raising money for a great cause – truly a night not to miss!”

My mother Betsy was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s at the young age of 55 years old.  We saw signs that something was wrong before her diagnosis, and her employer even called us to express concern over her behavior at work.  We initially thought my mom had a hearing problem because we would talk to her and she would do something other than what we discussed or immediately would forget what we talked about, but we never imagined that she had Alzheimer’s, as we learned after multiple doctors visits and tests.  My parents divorced when I was very young. Sadly in her mid-50’s, my mom was no longer able to work, and we did not want her living alone.  We sold my mother’s home, and she moved in with my beloved Grandmother so she could care for her.  We saw the incredible toll caring for my mother took on my Grandmother, but she watched over her until it was too much for her, and she could no longer leave my mom alone because she started to wander. My mom lived in a facility for two years before she died in 2013 at the age of 62, but she was never far from my grandmother’s thoughts. In fact, my grandmother died 10 days after my mother’s death, because her job was done. In 2017, the Alzheimer’s Association Illinois Chapter established a task force to explore the impact Alzheimer’s has on women. This led to the creation of Illinois Women Conquer ALZ (IWCA), the first women’s group for the Illinois Chapter.  I was asked to Chair the group and joined the Board of the Illinois Chapter in the summer of 2017.  Now, almost two years later, IWCA has grown to over 70 members and has raised over $100,000. IWCA has provided multiple education programs and networking opportunities connecting women that share our passion for ending this disease. IWCA also held two very successful fundraising celebration luncheons called Power of Purple–which raised critical funds and awareness of Alzheimer’s impact on women. In 2018, we also had our first IWCA Walk team participate in the Chicago Walk to End Alzheimer’s! I do the work I do for the Alzheimers’s Association because watching my mom slowly slip away way was heartbreaking and took a tremendous toll on our family. I want to do more to make an impact. And unfortunately, stories like mine are not unique. Women are at the epicenter of the Alzheimer’s epidemic, and the stats are astounding. Of the 5.8 million Americans living with Alzheimer’s, two-thirds of them are women. Women in their 60s are more than twice as likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease over the rest of their lives as they are to develop breast cancer.  Not only are women more likely to have Alzheimer’s, they are also more likely to be caregivers of those with the disease.  In the United States alone, about 13 million women are either living with or caring for someone with Alzheimer’s disease. It is because of all of these reasons that IWCA was formed to engage and empower more women in the fight against Alzheimer’s. This year we are once again Walking as a team, so together we can raise critical funds to help provide education programs, care and support to those struggling with the disease in Illinois and to drive research towards treatment, prevention and ultimately a cure. I Walk because I lost my mother, my children lost their grandmother and my grandmother lost her daughter far too young… and I am not alone. I Walk so that one day other families won’t suffer as mine did. I Walk so hopefully one day there will be a world without Alzheimer’s. Please click on the below links to register to Walk with the IWCA team at either of the three Walks listed below.  Registration is easy!  If you are unable to participate please consider making a tax-deductible donation-any contribution helps those impacted by this horrible disease.   Chicago Walk to End Alzheimer’s North Shore Walk to End Alzheimer’s Naperville Walk to End Alzheimer’s To learn more about IWCA, click here. I hope to see you in a sea of Purple joining us to Walk to End Alzheimer’s this fall.

By: Emily Wisner With a degree in business education, Karen Weede knew something was wrong when she could no longer balance her checking account. As the keeper of the household finances, she loved paying the bills, keeping financial records, and handling investments. “Initially, I was frustrated and angry that I wasn’t able to keep up with my bill paying and investments,” Karen said. She had to explain her processes and share passwords with her husband Jim, and he gradually took over. “I am still part of any financial decision but no longer handle all of the paperwork and routine decisions,” she said. “Taking care of our money was a very important part of my personality and life.” Karen’s financial capabilities weren’t the only major part of her personality that she saw changing. “I was a person who was full of ideas and could present these ideas, organize groups of people to complete the tasks, and carry the goal through to the end,” she said. “I was blessed with the ability to organize and work with people.” Karen found herself turning down requests such as running a fundraising effort and gathering volunteers for a church bazaar. “People did not understand why I was no longer a leader and someone who could get things done,” she said. “I was embarrassed and frustrated that I couldn’t handle the stress involved in taking on responsibilities that I always found fun.” In the spring of 2017, Karen began having trouble with daily tasks such as filling the car with gas, putting a CD in the player, and finding an elevator button. She shared her concerns with her internist, and after much testing including an MRI, EEG, PET scan, and a three-hour cognitive test with a neuropsychologist, she was diagnosed with mild cognitive impairment due to small vessel disease. The PET scan showed amyloid plaque, but the cognitive testing led to the conclusion that she did not have Alzheimer’s disease. Karen was told that there was nothing she could do except to control her stress. “I felt like I had walked into a brick wall, and an important part of my life had ended,” she said. “I was devastated but decided to find ways to fight my disease.” After extensively researching Alzheimer’s disease, memory loss, and dementia, she found many suggestions, some substantiated with clinical studies and others not. She now exercises more (which sends oxygen to the brain), eats food believed to be good for brain health, and immerses herself in music, art, and learning new subjects to continue stimulating her brain. In addition, Karen signed up for the Alzheimer’s Association’s TrialMatch and has participated in five clinical trials. None of the trials included drugs; instead, they gathered biomarkers that go into a database, so scientists can more easily access and analyze large amounts of data. It is important to Karen to participate in clinical trials because she believes they will lead to a cure. Although Karen’s diagnosis has caused some major changes in her life, she is grateful to have discovered it early. “My early diagnosis has enabled Jim and me to meet with our lawyer and rewrite our trusts, powers of attorney, and health care directives,” she said. “We live in a large house and have begun cleaning out all of the extra stuff we have accumulated. Jim and I are on a journey together, which is already changing our relationship. We are gradually learning how to react to each other as my behaviors change.” Recently, Karen had an encouraging appointment with her geriatrician. “My annual cognitive testing showed that I have remained stable, and she says I am an anomaly,” Karen said. “I am, however, taking Namenda, a drug approved for the treatment of vascular dementia and Alzheimer’s disease. It has made a huge difference in my functioning.” Karen and her husband continue to travel often, and she is a volunteer tutor in an after-school program for disadvantaged children. “Life is a journey, and we have chosen to be thankful for every day that I am still able to participate normally in everyday life,” she said. “I work hard to be positive, and I thank God each day because my memory is holding steady.” This summer, Karen joined the Alzheimer’s Association 2019-2020 National Early-Stage Advisory Group . “Our ESAG group will be the face of Alzheimer’s and dementia this year,” she said. “We want to do our part to remove the stigma of memory loss that interferes with daily living and, also, to bring the Alzheimer’s Association’s education and community support services to areas outside the major cities in our states.” As part of ESAG, Karen says she will also, “advocate with our legislators, speak to groups, interact with the media, and even create a team for the Walk to End Alzheimer’s.” This year’s Walk to End Alzheimer’s is particularly meaningful for Karen. “I am ‘coming out’ to many friends and acquaintances in Quincy who did not know I had been diagnosed in 2017,” she said. “If I am trying to put a face on Alzheimer’s disease and dementia (besides the image of someone who can’t remember or take care of themselves) then I have to be open about my diagnosis.”

Alzheimer’s taught us that love and kindness can be communicated and understood without words. My mom, Helen, found a new purpose in life: making those around her in the memory care home happy every day. Every time someone sees her, she is happy, smiling, singing or giving hugs. People seek her out when they are having a bad day. A hug from my mom still makes others feel better. Yes, there is a purpose in a life with Alzheimer’s. My mom is still making a difference in people’s lives despite this ugly disease. My mom is the mother of four accomplished children who love her deeply, 11 grandchildren who call her “Nanny,” and four great-grandchildren. She married George, the love of her life in 1952. She loved books and took the lead in successfully running a fundraising campaign when her town needed a new library. She was full of energy, and her bright smile was, and still is, wonderful to be around. When she was 78 years old and in the prime of her retirement, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. We were fortunate to find an incredible life care facility and got my mom moved in early enough in her diagnosis to make it a comfortable transition. She immediately made new friends and captured the hearts of her caregivers. Early on, facing the disease was challenging. She was concerned and anxious about her failing mental capabilities. There was little we could do to boost her confidence other than assuring her that she was in a kind, gentle, and understanding environment. Today, my mom doesn’t have the ability to communicate with us. She doesn’t remember her husband or her life in a wonderful small-town community that loved her. She doesn’t know her kids by name, and she is unable to read and continue to learn. As we stayed by her side and felt incredibly helpless, we started to notice the difference she made to those around her and how her happy attitude remained solid. And we started to learn compelling things about life and love. We learned it is the simple things that matter. I find great solace in holding my mother’s hand, having her fall asleep in my arms, walking with her, listening to her intermittent words, and being thrilled when they occasionally make sense. She has few material things around her that matter. It is the love and care of others that makes the difference. Yes, I miss my mom who I could communicate with and share life’s adventures, and yes, Alzheimer’s disease is truly dreadful. Yet we have found it comforting to know that in the middle of all of it, our mom remains happy and able to bring joy to others. And our lives are better because of what we have learned in the process.

It has been almost five years since I lost my beloved wife of 56 wonderful years to Alzheimer’s. I not only walk in her memory, but for the 5.8 million people who are living with this disease. I walk to raise funds and awareness. I walk so that future generations won’t know the pain of watching the person they love most in the world succumb to this devastating disease. A disease for which there currently is no prevention, no treatment and no cure. A disease that claims more lives annually than breast cancer and prostate cancer combined. Eileen’s time with us was cut short thus, robbing her of a chance to see how our family has flourished as the last of our grandchildren have graduated from college, married and added other precious great-grandchildren to her legacy. I will be walking in the Springfield Walk to End Alzheimer’s, which will be at the Southwind Park on Saturday, September 21, 2019. My involvement does not stop with merely raising money or walking. I have been a Team Captain for the past five years, I have served on the Team Retention Committee and as Walk Committee Chair. I was Walk Co-chair, in a supporting role, for the 2018 Walk and currently serve as the Co-chair for the 2019 Walk in a lead role. I’m committed to raising awareness and funds for Alzheimer’s research, care and support. I need your support. Please make a donation, in Eileen’s memory, to help the Alzheimer’s Association advance research into methods of treatment, prevention and, ultimately, a cure. For the millions already affected by the disease, the Association offers care, education, support and resources in communities nationwide. Every donation helps, no matter how small. Together we can make a difference. This disease affects far too many lives. One out of every three American seniors dies with Alzheimer’s or some form of dementia. I need your help so that we can continue to fund research to end this disease and provide support for the 230,000 Alzheimer’s patients in Illinois and their 588,000 caregivers.

Back in 2011 my mom, Rose, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She suffered what they called mini-strokes that attributed to the disease, and she had to retire from a job she loved after 16 years. Alzheimer’s – at first – slowly took things from my mom; confidence, driving, painting, writing and more. The one thing she never let the disease take was her smile and her loving personality. My wonderful father took care of her for over four years until we had to put her into assisted care. She soon would lose her ability to walk, talk and eat. Even though she didn’t communicate at the last stages of the disease, she still had that sparkle in her eye. We knew she was still in there and would continue to smile and want to be held. In August of 2018, this devastating disease took my mom from us and our world changed. I walk for her, I walk for everyone who lives with this disease, I walk for the care providers and I walk to educate others. The Walk to End Alzheimer’s is a way to show support for anyone impacted by Alzheimer’s and raise funding for additional advancements in finding a cure. Even if you haven’t been impacted by this disease, I encourage you to walk. Everyone should become educated because knowing how to talk with someone with Alzheimer’s is important and makes that person feel loved.   My team, “Rosie’s Riveters” will be walking in memory of my mom this year. Together, we will continue to share her story and educate others about Alzheimer’s.   By: Renee Higgins

When my Dad died of Alzheimer’s Disease the day before Valentine’s Day in 2001, we didn’t have a name for the disease that took away his identity. We knew that he stopped reading and doing crossword puzzles, started falling downstairs, started ordering “stuff” from the Publishers Clearinghouse mailings he used to throw away in disgust. He almost started a fire using the microwave, became belligerent instead of easy-going, was sure he saw and spoke with his parents and couldn’t be convinced otherwise with logic, had several fender benders before we took away his car keys and lost his ability to walk and to take care of himself. That is the SHORT list of changes that had occurred over a span of about ten years. We knew something was very wrong, but we didn’t know what. Once when he was randomly looking thru the many books in his house, I asked him what he was doing. He told me that he was looking for his mind. I was lucky and am grateful that he still knew who I was when he died. When my Mom developed dementia ten years later, I was armed with lots of information courtesy of The Alzheimer’s Association. She was the one who didn’t know who I was two weeks before she died in 2013. She was worried about “her baby”, and she wasn’t talking about me. Thanks to my new information, I knew to go along with her reality instead of trying to change her mind. I reassured her that she had gotten an excellent babysitter and her baby was happily napping. On the way home in the car, I cried for the Mom whom I had lost. She never knew me again. Dad with Alzheimer’s; Mom with dementia. Obviously I have a lot of skin in this game. It is devastating to watch a loved one disappear while they are still alive. My Dad was a research chemist with a masters degree. At the end he couldn’t even feed himself. My Mom was an R.N. who couldn’t find her way from her room to the dining room she had been going to three times a day for five years. I have seen my possible future and it is not pretty. I learned about the Alzheimer’s Association the year that Dad died, and I have participated in the Macomb Walk to End Alzheimer’s every year since then. The 2019 Walk will be my 19th Walk. Each year I set a higher fundraising goal as I approach the age when my Dad was when he first started showing symptoms. Alzheimer’s and other dementia diseases impact us all. It could be a friend, a parent, a sibling. It could be you. Join me in raising money to find a cure and to learn more about this devastating disease. Together, we can do this.

By: Emily Wisner Tammy Joseph has had three loved ones, her grandmother, father, and father-in-law, pass away from Alzheimer’s disease. In addition, her mother is currently living with dementia and Parkinson’s. “All three of my loved ones eventually forgot who we were,” Tammy said. “Unless your family has had this happen to a loved one, it’s very difficult to understand what it’s like to have someone stop speaking to you and look through you with a blank stare because they can’t remember who you are.” Tammy’s father was a farmer who raised horses and pigs, which was an integral part of his identity, but during his time with Alzheimer’s, he eventually couldn’t remember enough to talk about it with anyone. He would also go out and buy things for the farm even though he no longer lived there. “One day, he wrote a huge check to enter pigs into the county fair, but he didn’t have hogs to show,” Tammy said. “I tried to get him to give me the check so I could pretend to mail it, and he refused to give it to me. He actually pushed me out of the way so he could mail it. My Dad would have never treated me this way before Alzheimer’s.” After that incident, they had to have a family meeting and take away his credit card. “Dad got so upset and started yelling at us that he worked his entire life for his money, and we had no right to take it away,” Tammy said. The family also had to take his license and truck away because it was no longer safe for him to drive. “My parents lived in a small town, so when my Dad was driving down the wrong side of the road, the police brought him home and told us that he shouldn’t be driving,” she said. “He said it was his truck and no one was going to keep him from driving it. We had to sell it so it would be out of his view.” Tammy has vivid memories of these conversations, which are still painful for her to talk about today. “Eventually, because of his temper, we had to make the decision to medicate him so he wouldn’t hurt Mom or any of us if we didn’t do what he wanted,” she said. “What many people don’t understand is how difficult it is when you have to make decisions about ways to keep your loved one safe.” Another difficult part for Tammy and her family was seeing her father lose his outgoing personality. He stopped talking about the farm. He stopped emailing his friends. And eventually, after having to go on medication for his temper, he barely even talked to Tammy’s mother. “Mom became very lonely because Dad was always a ‘talker,’” Tammy said. After seeing so many of her loved ones battle Alzheimer’s, Tammy knows that it isn’t a quick disease. “In most cases, your loved one will live many years after being diagnosed, and they will need a lot of care,” she said. “This is really affecting our health care system, so in that way, this disease is affecting everyone that pays taxes.” In addition, she said that “it’s rare that I find someone who hasn’t had someone in their immediate family or a friend diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or dementia.” Tammy’s mother is currently living with dementia, but the medication is helping for now. “I pray that she continues to know who we are,” Tammy said. “I walk in the Jacksonville Walk in hopes of raising money to fund research so that one day, my children won’t be sitting here writing their story of why they Walk to End Alzheimer’s.”