My father cannot feed or dress himself. Reading a book or a newspaper is an impossibility. Often, he does not recognize me.
My father is one of an estimated 4.5 million Americans living with Alzheimer's disease, a degenerative brain disorder that destroys brain cells and neural pathways. He was diagnosed with the disease three years ago, and his mental decline has been rapid.
For him, the dementia first became apparent with increased forgetfulness. This was followed by decreased attention to routine and poor language skills and finally behavior that puts himself and others in danger.
Alzheimer's is an awful disease to see in someone. The slow, inevitable progression to a complete lack of self-reliance and social ability takes its toll on families and friends. Treatment options often do little to soften the blow of the disease.
Alzheimer's, as an incurable disease, must force us to reconsider the way we understand people and their medical conditions.
Medical doctors and the associated health-care bureaucracy focus too much on Alzheimer's as a "disease," and finding cures. The implication is that disease is abnormal and a cure is an unequivocal good.
The Alzheimer's Association Web site says, "Alzheimer's disease is not a normal part of aging." Yet on the very same Web page, the association states that Alzheimer's cases have more than doubled in the past 26 years. Now, an estimated 10 percent of the over-65 population in the United States has the disease, with almost half of those over the age of 85 also afflicted.
It seems that Alzheimer's disease is a common part of aging that will only become more prevalent as people live longer.
In the face of a growing number of affected individuals, we must shift our focus to the holistic approach to their care. Alzheimer's is only partially a medical condition. It is, more importantly, a social condition. All too often, including my own relationship with my father, Alzheimer's creates a barrier to interpersonal relations.
It is far easier to place someone in an assisted-living residence than to deal with them and the symptoms of their disease on a daily basis.
Many of us already have family or friends who have degenerative or terminal illnesses. As my generation ages, we will know many more people afflicted.
As the grandchildren, children, siblings and spouses of people who have or likely will have some major medical condition eventually, we have to learn to use the affliction of disease as an opportunity to create and extend relationships with loved ones.
We can help those who experience such difficult diseases confront and address the reality of their mortality. For people with Alzheimer's, we can lessen the fear that comes from not knowing where you are, what day or month it is or who the people around you are.
For those with other diseases, like Parkinson's, we can make an effort to make their physical limitations less challenging.
Furthermore, we can use the immobility that comes with that disease as a chance to speak and listen with our elders.
By treating those around us who have diseases as human beings, we create the possibility that terminal illnesses will be addressed as a part of life rather than the antithesis of it. In that sense, we will see difficult medical conditions as moments that have value in themselves.
In many ways, I was motivated to write this column by my own inability to deal with my father's illness. As I attempt to develop a relationship with my father in the context of his disease, I hope that others might do the same with their loved ones.
Maybe at some point we will be able to appreciate the unique opportunities that illness affords.
Alex Ginsburg is a religious studies senior attempting to get down from his ivory tower. You may reach him at Alexander.Ginsberg@asu.edu.
