An Alzheimer's relationship

Michelle has written an interesting post on the movie "The Notebook." Recalling the movie brought back so many memories of my parents' relationship during my mother's Alzheimer's Disease. My mother developed Alzheimer's in her 60s. By the time they celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary in the nursing home, I realized that the disease had taken up more than a quarter of their years together.

My father cared for my mother in their home for about the first five years of the disease. She advanced very rapidly to late stage Alzheimers. By year 5 she no longer recognized her own home and frequently didn't know us. In about year 6 she could no longer walk. Around year 7 she lost the ability to talk and to feed herself. She was in the nursing home, a very nice one, for ten years. Every day my father visited her. He ate dinner with her. When she could no longer feed herself he would feed her. When her ability to swallow was deteriorating he would feed her pureed food 1/4 teaspoon at a time. It took a good hour to feed her a whole meal. By that time, it was a good day if she made eye contact. He still showed her affection. He still kissed her. He still talked to her. He bought her ice cream. In the nice weather he would take her for a walk outside. He paid for her hair to be done every single week.

He also instructed the staff to not put a "do not resuscitate" order on her chart.

He explained to me that the reason was not because he wanted to prolong her life past the natural course of it. He just wanted to make sure that no one thought he was waiting for her to die because that might effect the quality of care she would be given. There is no question in my mind that she received excellent care because of my father's attention. Every day he asked the nurse, "What is the patient/staff ratio today?"

I will write more about their relationship soon. It was just on my mind because of Michelle's post. For years my father never received a smile from my mother. I don't think she had the ability to smile in the last few years. It didn't matter to my dad. He wasn't there for the reward. He was there because he loved her and it didn't matter if she could give nothing in return.