oncologist

Leave a comment April 11, 2015 Larry Peterson

IT MAKES SENSE TO ME

By Larry Peterson

My wife, Marty, began undergoing chemo treatments for Lymphoma during the spring of 2011. In the summer of 2013 cognitive disruption began to rear its ugly head. When I asked her oncologist could it be “chemo brain”, he more or less gave me an I’m not sure, maybe shrug followed by a “I don’t think so.”, answer.

During the late summer of 2014 the “cognitive disruption” I had noticed was officially diagnosed as Alzheimer’s Disease. So much for my “chemo brain” theory. The mental “fog” was never going to go away. On the contrary, I quickly found out that her newly discovered illness would hang on to her and not leave until it succeeded in taking her life. Alzheimer’s Disease is the only cause of death that cannot be prevented, cured, or even slowed down.

Marty did not understand what was happening to her and I was having no luck trying to explain it. All she knew was that the rehab center she was in was not her home and that I had put her there and did not stay with her anymore. She had no idea where I (we) lived and was as frightened as a child whose parents at dropped her off at a strange place and left her there with strangers. The whole situation actually sickened me. When I would leave after four or five hours of visiting the pathetically sad and forlorn look that appeared on her face was almost too much to bear.

It is now almost eight months since the official diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. She has been home since the end of last October. I have told her that she has Alzheimer’s Disease and she tells me that she understands. She does not understand but, since she forgets the conversation within minutes, it does not matter anyway.

Marty has become my new seven year-old existing in an old body. No one can tell she is ill, except me, of course, and several close friends that know about her condition. When I take her with me to church and to the stores etc., I always hear how “wonderful” she looks. Yeah, well the Titanic looked all bright and shiny as it headed out into the Atlantic that cold, April day in 1912. (Oops, sorry, I try to avoid being “down” about this but sometimes it just bites me, especially when I write about it.) Moving forward—here is a link to Alzheimer’s Disease .

Today, more than 5 million Americans are living with Alzheimer’s disease and about 200,000 of those folks are under the age of 65. The disease kills more people every year than breast cancer and prostate cancer combined. It is estimated that by the year 2050, 16 million people will have this disease. Someone in the United States develops Alzheimer’s every 67 seconds. They have estimated that by 2050 it will be every 33 seconds. This is an epidemic growing before our eyes. It is also becoming a nightmare for more and more moms, dads, sons, daughters, grandchildren, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends and society as a whole.

Imagine that all around the country people like Marty Peterson, are having their brains slowly erased by an invisible demon inside their heads. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh; back and forth, back and forth, the tiny eraser keeps moving–back and forth, back and forth. Slowly but methodically the demon goes about its work 24/7. After awhile the person under attack does not even remember how to go to the bathroom. And then, after a time, the eraser stops. It stops when the disease it is part of finally erases the person’s life.

That is the course of the relentless, unstoppable, illness known as Alzheimer’s Disease. It is at work at this very moment. Somehow, someway we will have to stop it. We will need God’s help because this war cannot be won without Him.

For more information click on this link Alzheimer’s Info

Leave a comment November 10, 2014 Larry Peterson

Through the fog of Alzheimer’s–The Piano Smile L.Peterson2016

by Larry Peterson

Until about four years ago, Marty, was never sick a day in her life. That is when the Lymphoma was discovered and the chemo began. The cancer would come and go and so would the PeT Scans and continued chemo treatments. Truthfully, it was never much more than an inconvenience. She never got sick, lost weight or had any of those stereotypical cancer fears materialize.

What did unexpectedly occur were the ever more frequent cognitive disruptions. Memory lapses, asking the same question over and over and things like that. I spoke to her oncologist and he silently said with raised eyebrows, tightened lips and a shrug, ‘there might be a problem’.

Anesthesia administered during surgery for a severely broken ankle on August 1, dragged her deeper into the netherworld which, up until then, had only been toying with her. Now it grabbed her and yanked her in. On September 24 a heart attack (A-Fib) resolved any uncertainty. Her “Fog” or CRCD (Cancer Related Cognitive Dysfunction) was diagnosed as Alzheimer’s Disease. Quicksand could not have been more efficient. Onward and downward.

The hospital and rehab stay after the ankle surgery had lasted 20 days and the days spent in the hospital and rehab after the A-Fib attack lasted 33 days. She thought I had moved her into a new apartment and was wondering why I would not stay there at night.

Like a good “soldier” she would wait patiently, hour after hour after hour, until I returned the next day. Then, like a three-year-old who had been found by her daddy, her face would light up and she would say, “Oh thank God, you found me.” She knew she was “saved” and would hug me tight and not let go.

I freely admit that every damn day on the way home I cried thinking of how sad this was. My intelligent, independent, wife had become a lost child, the victim of an insidious demon inside her head who was erasing her brain. I had turned into a blubbering idiot. This Alzheimer’s thing was surely a despicable foe.

Marty returned home on October 26 with a bag full of new medications and a mind that was telling her that I had moved her into a ‘new’ house. She asked me if we “were married’, if we would sleep together in the same bed and if, in fact, her piano was new. After two weeks she had recovered some of (not all) her sense of belonging in “her home”.

She was still not sure where things should go and kept moving items from here to there without me knowing. I have (so far) had to search hi and low for the shampoo, the toothpaste, parmigiana cheese, combs, and hairbrush etc.

So be it—together we plod forward with her doing whatever she will do and me learning to (at all times) expect the unexpected. This is a minute to minute journey, unplanned, without a destination and very spontaneous. But—there can be beautiful moments and yesterday one unexpectedly came along.

Marty has played piano since she was a child and is quite an accomplished pianist. A concern of mine, while she was in rehab, was that she might not remember how to play. I have been told she will actually forget how to. Yesterday, those concerns were put on hold.

I was in my cluttered, paper-strewn office staring at the computer monitor when piano music began filling the house. I smiled to myself as I began to listen and then I realized this was something different. This was not the usual Marty, this was a transcendent Marty.

I could not believe what I was hearing. She was playing the most beautiful music I had ever heard her play. “Stella by Starlight” filled the rooms followed by “Autumn Leaves” and then, my favorite, Chopin’s Major in E flat. I watched from the hallway and saw that she was lost within the music that she was bringing forth on that old piano.

Watching her play was like observing one of God’s magnificent flowers fully bloom. Realizing that these were now fleeting moments soon to be no more I had the good sense to record the entire hour that she played. I figured that when she does forget how to play and does not recognize the piano or maybe even me, that music will still be here. That is when I will play it for her. Maybe, just maybe, from whatever world she is in, she will take

pause and smile. Maybe she will remember some of her music. Maybe, just maybe…