Mom recognized sons until end

As a person in what may be termed the “moving-on” years of life, I still like to learn from books and new experiences. But my experience with Alzheimer’s disease, which afflicted my mother, Marge McKinnon, made me believe that one cannot truly comprehend the nature of that awful disease unless one has direct contact with someone who has it.

Here was an intelligent, strong-willed and wonderful mother whose mental faculties changed dramatically over a relatively short period.

I tried to obtain a better comprehension of the disease by reading the books “What’s Happening to Grandpa” by Maria Shriver and Sandra Speidel, and “The Long Goodbye” by Patti Davis, the daughter of Ronald Reagan. Both authors do eloquent jobs in their endeavors, but to me their expressions still cannot replace direct experience.

The most relevant statement for me was by Davis when she said her mother, Nancy Reagan, “called it a long goodbye – the way Alzheimer’s slowly steals a person away.”

My brothers and I were fortunate in that mom knew us by name right to the end. I have a disability that affects my walking, and at times she would refer to me as the crippled boy. However we did not have to endure the sorrow of her being unable to recognize us as happens so often with Alzheimer’s patients.

When I moved back to Spokane and became her guardian, I would go over every morning to see her at her assisted-living facility. However, I never knew what I would find. Most of the time, she would be docile and happy to see me. At other times she could be upset.

I read recently that there are 26,000 people in Eastern Washington with the disease, and more than 124,000 family members and caregivers affected by it. There are no easy answers for dealing with it. One has to show love, patience and support to the patients, but one also has to get on them at times in a strict but kind manner.

This was necessary for me when Mom would get upset with some of the people living and working at the facility. After I would talk to her, she would usually calm down, and everything would be OK.

I still have many good memories of the time of her illness. When I would take her to breakfast, she would always order French toast. Each time it was always the best French toast she had ever had.

It was a privilege to take care of her.