November is National Alzheimer’s Awareness and Family Caregiver Month. It was given that designation in 1983 by President Ronald Reagan, long before anyone knew that he would die of the very disease he set out to recognize.

Click on the ore boat photo to go directly to the first part of the introductory series called CARE TALKS, a video series offering encouragement to the caregiver.

One of the hallmark symptoms of Alzheimer’s, the most common form of dementia, is the loss of decades of memories. The loss begins slowly, traversing over several years. But like a boulder starting to roll down a mountain, it picks up dramatic, breakneck speed and ultimately results in carnage for everything in its path.

It was easy to tell how many decades of memory my mom had lost based on what she could remember. When she told me her husband was picking up their daughters from school, I knew she had lost more than four decades. When she called 9-1-1 and told them to urgently send a squad car to return her to her childhood home, I recognized her loss of over five decades. When she asked the nurses where she could find the nearest bar so she and her girlfriends could go pick up boys, I knew she had lost over six decades. And it gave me a glimpse into her teenage years that I wasn’t sure I wanted to see!

My husband took the above photo of a lake freighter that emerged through fog clouds during a wedding ceremony on the north shore of Lake Superior. It’s a rare treat to see ore boats, let alone one docking within yards of where we stood. At first, we knew something was entering the small harbor. Eventually we were witness to the full splendor of the magnificent ship cutting through the fog.

We recognized the symbolic similarities between the ship in the fog and a person’s struggle with Alzheimer’s. We can’t always make out what it is in the early stages of its arrival because the fog hides it. Sometimes the fog is thick and nothing can be seen at all. Sometimes its outline becomes unmistakable during moments when the fog dissipates.

In both cases, there is innocent beauty. I like to call it collateral beauty. An ore boat is still beautiful whether or not it’s hidden in the fog. A life with Alzheimer’s is beautiful, too. Mom entrusted me with the matters of her life. She smiled when I reminded her that I handled her appointments, schedule and finances–all of the things in her life she could no longer understand. I told her I was her life manager. She replied, “Oh that’s good. I need one of those.” And then we would both smile. I loved being able to serve her and bring some peace in the storm. I loved her smile. I loved those clear moments when she said, “I love you, Cheryl.” And I loved those times when I not only held her hand, but she held my hand.

Caregivers are heroes–filled with honesty, sensitivity and integrity. They place others above themselves, are their hands and feet and unselfishly serve. And they look for those moments of collateral beauty. If you are a caregiver, THANK YOU!

Do you like to thank police officers or military personnel for their service?

I have three assignments for you during the month of November.

• Write a short note to a caregiver (even if you are one, too) to say thanks for being a caring servant.
• Make a short phone call just to ask, “How are you doing?” A friend and co-worker did that a lot during my years of caregiving for my mom. Dawn also asked how Mom was doing, but she asked about me first.
• Pray for God’s grace in the caregiver’s life.

In future blogs, I’ll be telling you about some of the newest research relating to actual cures and earlier diagnostic tools. The efforts of the Alzheimer’s Association are helping in those areas. On November 4, 2017, my husband and I are walking in the Walk to End Alzheimer’s in Little Rock, Arkansas.

If you could make a donation at the link below, you will become part of my team to help find viable cures and early diagnoses. Thank you so very much!

http://act.alz.org/goto/cherylcrofootknapp

Together, we can find a cure.

God bless your day!