You’re Not Alone – Denial Isn’t a Strategy

By Skip Cohen

I started the You’re Not Alone chronicles because Alzheimer’s is a disease that starts out very private. In the beginning, so many of us felt alone in our frustration, yet kept it a secret. I’m hoping you can learn from our mistakes.

For my dad’s generation, especially for men who didn’t share their emotions, it was a new experience to sit in a support group and hear the same frustrations he had — voiced by strangers. “You don’t air your dirty laundry in public” was a lesson I grew up with. If we had an argument in our family when I was a kid — and it was summer — my mother would run around the house closing all the windows to make sure no neighbors heard anyone yelling. The house might get up to 90 degrees, but nobody in the outside world was going to hear that we were just a normal family with disagreements.

So when my mother started showing signs that something was wrong with her mental capacity, Dad — along with the rest of us — went into denial. We didn’t want to know that something might be wrong with Mom’s health. We dismissed little things like repetitive questions and her paranoia, especially when watching the news, and accepted that they were just normal signs of aging.

And Mom was the queen of cover-ups. In the early stages, she became very good at dismissing her memory loss. By the time we fully admitted that something was seriously wrong, it was too late to do very much. At that point, the support group became one of Dad’s primary lifelines. The support from other members during each discussion — along with learning they were going through the same thing — became his salvation.

While there’s still no cure for Alzheimer’s, if caught early enough, there are some amazing drugs. These drugs are like giant speed bumps, slowing the progression of the disease. The point is this: You know when things are starting to slip. Don’t wait to see a doctor.

But here’s a sidebar point in a different direction. At some point, while dealing with a family member facing Alzheimer’s — and your own aging — you start to wonder about your own health.

Almost two years ago, after noticing I was forgetting words and that my short-term memory seemed to be disappearing, I started worrying about whether I was headed down the same Alzheimer’s path my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother had all traveled.

So I went to one of Sarasota’s finest neurologists and underwent a thorough evaluation. The tests showed a normal cognitive decline for my age, but nothing suggesting Alzheimer’s was in my future — although there are no guarantees.

However, there were a few things in my own routine that were contributing to the decline. For example, I discovered that gabapentin, which I was taking for neuropathy, has a side effect of cognitive memory issues. I type faster than I can write by hand, and suddenly whatever I was writing was filled with typos. I stopped taking the gabapentin and — poof — my skill level was back to normal. Yes, it really was almost that obvious.

So many of you have already heard this statement, or some version of it: Going into the kitchen and forgetting what you went in for isn’t Alzheimer’s. Going into the kitchen and forgetting what it’s used for is Alzheimer’s.

Here’s my point today — and with everything I’ve written in this series to date: Remember that whatever you’re feeling, you’re not alone. Take the time to see a doctor if you’re worried about a loved one’s health or your own.

In the U.S. alone, there are 500,000 new cases of Alzheimer’s diagnosed each year.

And if you’re one of those people who has said, “I don’t want to know. I’ll deal with it when and if it happens,” think again. Technology and medicine never stand still. With new research and drugs emerging all the time, catching a diagnosis early can have a real impact on your quality of life — and the lives of the people you care about most.

If you or a loved one need help or have questions, visit alz.org or call the Alzheimer’s Association 24/7 Helpline at 800.272.3900.

Photo credit: Dad in his home office, photographed by Cantrell Portrait Design