by Lisette Carbajal
I have a picture of my father in my office at work that I often glance at throughout the day. He’s sitting in between my mother and I smiling at the camera. His shoulders are slouched forward, thin in the face but, regardless, he appears to be in good spirits. I can almost guarantee; however, he was not sure what was happening at that moment. Most days, he never does.
My father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease about seven years ago. I was a third year in college when I received the devastating news that my father would eventually forget everything he had ever known. I was sitting in my dorm room studying for an exam, and I heard the phone ring. My mother was sobbing as I heard her say, “It’s Alzheimer’s.” I instantly dropped the phone and began to cry.
At that moment, my mind took me back to all the times I had with my father when I was a little girl. We were incredibly close. He would always take me out for ice cream, to the park, or to breakfast at McDonald’s. He always made sure I was happy and would never let me forget how much he loved me.
When I first heard that terrible news, I had no idea how much my father’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis would impact my family. Each year that passes only gets more difficult than the last. As a caregiver, I feel as if I am always grieving because his health is rapidly declining. Just when I think he’s going to be okay, at least for a little while, he suddenly becomes worse. It’s difficult to find comfort in those times because I just wish that there was a cure to end Alzheimer’s disease. Unfortunately, however, there is no cure for this horrible disease.
At times when I feel overwhelmed and like I can’t take it anymore, I remind myself that there is a community of people like me that are also going through the same pain. I’ve managed to cope with the hurt by sharing my struggles with others and learning about resources available for caregivers. The Alzheimer’s Association has been especially helpful for my family and I as we research long-term care services and support systems in the community.
I think about my dad often, especially now that he has grown even more sick. Having his picture in my office gives me comfort in times when I need it the most.
In August, I’ll be getting married to a person I know my dad would have loved. When I look at his picture, I think about what it would be like to have him at our wedding. I know he will not be able to attend because he is too fragile and ill. However, despite the heartache this brings, I know he would have been so happy for me. And although Alzheimer’s may have taken my dad away mentally, I know in his heart he still remembers us.
That alone keeps me going every day.
