I just found out that actor Sean Connery, who passed away last October, died of complications due to Alzheimer's. Alzheimer's debilitates cognitive function. The cause of his death hit me three-fold: He was my mother's favorite movie star, they are both in their 90s, and she too has Alzheimer's.
According to a recent AARP feature story, I was shocked that the great jazz singer Tony Bennett has Alzheimer's.
Tony was also another idol of my mom. She would always perk up whenever she heard his infamous "I left my heart in San Francisco" ballad.
In 2017, one year after his diagnosis, my mom, brother, and I watched him for the first time performing in San Francisco to a packed audience amongst a sea of silver-haired ladies. He was 90 at the time and did not disappoint. He belted out hit after hit and showed no signs of the debilitating disease.
She sang along to a melody that was unfamiliar to my brother and me.
My brother asked her, "how do you know that song?" as if surprised she would remember. She shrugged and said, "that's an old song."
I have not told my mom about their deaths. I'm concerned that the news may cause more harm than good and make her feel depressed. What she does not know will not affect her.
She is all too familiar with the pain of our loved ones who succumbed to the disease. She was diagnosed in 2009, the same year her sister died of Alzheimer's. Shortly after that, her best friend passed away due to Alzheimer's. Their passing affected her deeply as she was very close to both of them.
Before her diagnosis, my mom was very engaging and outgoing. She used to go shopping or have lunch with her girlfriends. She was usually the driver. One such friend, the one who passed away from Alzheimer's, was the first to alarm me that my mom forgot how to get back to her house just two blocks away.
A neurologist said her memory lapse was most likely due to the stress of the four deaths that happened concurrently within two years: My father in 2008, followed by my nephew and auntie both in 2009. My mom's pet dog was the last.
She no longer drives. She relies on us to take her to her appointments or gatherings. Her pep has waned, and she often feels lazy to get dressed to go out. Her energy began to decline about two years before the Covid pandemic.
According to a recent AARP feature story, I was shocked that the great jazz singer Tony Bennett has Alzheimer's.
Tony was also another idol of my mom. She would always perk up whenever she heard his infamous "I left my heart in San Francisco" ballad.
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| Photo by Dyna Lopez |
In 2017, one year after his diagnosis, my mom, brother, and I watched him for the first time performing in San Francisco to a packed audience amongst a sea of silver-haired ladies. He was 90 at the time and did not disappoint. He belted out hit after hit and showed no signs of the debilitating disease.
She sang along to a melody that was unfamiliar to my brother and me.
My brother asked her, "how do you know that song?" as if surprised she would remember. She shrugged and said, "that's an old song."
I have not told my mom about their deaths. I'm concerned that the news may cause more harm than good and make her feel depressed. What she does not know will not affect her.
She is all too familiar with the pain of our loved ones who succumbed to the disease. She was diagnosed in 2009, the same year her sister died of Alzheimer's. Shortly after that, her best friend passed away due to Alzheimer's. Their passing affected her deeply as she was very close to both of them.
Before her diagnosis, my mom was very engaging and outgoing. She used to go shopping or have lunch with her girlfriends. She was usually the driver. One such friend, the one who passed away from Alzheimer's, was the first to alarm me that my mom forgot how to get back to her house just two blocks away.
A neurologist said her memory lapse was most likely due to the stress of the four deaths that happened concurrently within two years: My father in 2008, followed by my nephew and auntie both in 2009. My mom's pet dog was the last.
She no longer drives. She relies on us to take her to her appointments or gatherings. Her pep has waned, and she often feels lazy to get dressed to go out. Her energy began to decline about two years before the Covid pandemic.
Her memory has waned to the point where she'll ask the same question within a two-minute conversation, "Where are we going again?" or "Who made this dish?".
She still remembers her immediate family and siblings’ names and memories, which is a good thing. Her physician said a few years ago that he was surprised that her cognitive abilities did not decline as quickly as he thought they would.
I used to get frustrated during the early onset, but my friend whose mom died of Alzheimer's advised me that all we can do is accept that this is their way of life. The difference in me has been the difficulty in changing how I react and respond to her forgetfulness and disengagement.
I stopped reminding her about throwing away the junk mail that just piles up on her desk, which used to be tidy and in order. She says that she will after she reads it. She fears that it could be an essential document and never has the time to do so. But that's minor in the scheme of things. Now I just clean up her desk, knowing that she will never do it. So be it.
So be it. My mom sometimes would say that to my father when they would have disagreements. Towards the end of their arguments, it motioned her final opinion.
The saving grace is that my mom often tells vivid stories of her youth when she was a Dental student in the Philippines, anxiously waiting and eventually passing her board exams to hanging out with her beloved sister in Manila. She perks up every time, as her eyes look back in time, reminiscing.
A survey conducted not too long ago asked senior citizens what the main joys or possessions they cherish during their later years are—fond memories of their lives, friends, and family.
It was not money. It was not fame. It was not material possessions.
That is why I always share positive stories about the past and present, whether about her great-grandkids, grandkids, or siblings.
It's the memories of those stories I believe keeps everyone alive mentally, whether you have dementia or not, especially during this Covid pandemic when people are not physically socializing. The family Zoom sessions that she attends and her family’s photographs that she proudly displays throughout her home make a difference for the better.
“You can’t take it with you to the grave,” my friend’s father once said to my mom when he tried to persuade her to travel more. Her excuse was that she was always busy and needed to stay home with my father. Her last international trip was 25+ years ago when she went to Egypt with her girlfriends.
That is true. Memories are priceless that we all should hold close and dear to our hearts and minds.
She still remembers her immediate family and siblings’ names and memories, which is a good thing. Her physician said a few years ago that he was surprised that her cognitive abilities did not decline as quickly as he thought they would.
I used to get frustrated during the early onset, but my friend whose mom died of Alzheimer's advised me that all we can do is accept that this is their way of life. The difference in me has been the difficulty in changing how I react and respond to her forgetfulness and disengagement.
I stopped reminding her about throwing away the junk mail that just piles up on her desk, which used to be tidy and in order. She says that she will after she reads it. She fears that it could be an essential document and never has the time to do so. But that's minor in the scheme of things. Now I just clean up her desk, knowing that she will never do it. So be it.
So be it. My mom sometimes would say that to my father when they would have disagreements. Towards the end of their arguments, it motioned her final opinion.
The saving grace is that my mom often tells vivid stories of her youth when she was a Dental student in the Philippines, anxiously waiting and eventually passing her board exams to hanging out with her beloved sister in Manila. She perks up every time, as her eyes look back in time, reminiscing.
 |
| Photo by Dyna Lopez |
A survey conducted not too long ago asked senior citizens what the main joys or possessions they cherish during their later years are—fond memories of their lives, friends, and family.
It was not money. It was not fame. It was not material possessions.
That is why I always share positive stories about the past and present, whether about her great-grandkids, grandkids, or siblings.
It's the memories of those stories I believe keeps everyone alive mentally, whether you have dementia or not, especially during this Covid pandemic when people are not physically socializing. The family Zoom sessions that she attends and her family’s photographs that she proudly displays throughout her home make a difference for the better.
“You can’t take it with you to the grave,” my friend’s father once said to my mom when he tried to persuade her to travel more. Her excuse was that she was always busy and needed to stay home with my father. Her last international trip was 25+ years ago when she went to Egypt with her girlfriends.
That is true. Memories are priceless that we all should hold close and dear to our hearts and minds.
Heart and sound mind are what we all hold dear.
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