Alzheimer’s Disease
I have been a primary care physician for over two decades, long enough to witness the arcs of countless lives, from illnesses, recoveries, and inevitable ends.
One patient that I was particularly fond of, I’ll call her Susan, was an elderly woman I had first seen for a routine check up more than fifteen years ago.
Susan was full of life then, her eyes sparkling with the wit and humor that came from a long, well-lived life.
I admired her vivacity, the stories of Susan’s travels with her late husband, the way she spoke lovingly of her grandchildren. Over time, I felt that our professional relationship also turned into a friendship and I looked forward to our visits together.
But over the years, the sparkle in Susan's eyes dimmed, and I began to notice small signs - missed appointments, repeated stories, and moments of confusion. At first, they were easy to overlook, dismissed as the normal effects of aging. But over time it became apparent that this was not just the normal aging process, and eventually the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s dementia was confirmed.
For a physician, especially one who has formed a close bond with a patient, watching someone decline from Alzheimer’s can feel like an unbearable weight. Over the years, I watched helplessly as Susan slowly slipped away. The woman who once regaled me with vibrant tales now sat quietly in the exam room, unsure of where she was or why she was there.
As the years went on, Susan’s decline progressed.
Susan no longer recognized me, and eventually, she stopped speaking altogether. The woman who once filled a room with laughter, now sat silent. During these visits, I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. I was a physician, trained to heal, yet there was little we could do to stop the cruel progression of the disease. All I could do was comfort Susan, and offer comfort and solace to her caregivers.
Through it all, I found myself reflecting on the nature of my role as a physician. I had always viewed my job as one of fixing problems, but caring for Susan, reminded me again that sometimes our role is more about simply offering comfort and bearing witness to the full arc of a life, even when it ends.
When Susan passed, I felt both sorrow and quiet relief, understanding that my patient was no longer trapped in a body and mind that had betrayed her. And I felt relief for her adult children, who had spent hundreds of hours providing her care.
November is National Alzheimer’s Awareness Month
And a yearly reminder of all the work we still have ahead of us to find new and better ways to treat this horrible disease. It is a time of reflection of lives lost, and lives changed as family members become caregivers. These caregivers are truly the unsung heroes and desire our utmost respect. In the state of Maine, there are estimated to be 29,600 people aged 65 and older living with Alzheimer’s and 51,000 individuals acting as caregivers. Unfortunately, 38% of those caregivers are living with depression and over 60% have their own chronic health conditions.
In honor of our brave patients, like Susan, and their loving caregivers, Dr. Beall and I will be walking in the 2024 Alzheimer's Walk in Portland, Maine on October 19th. Should you like to walk with us to honor someone you know affected by Alzheimer’s, we’d love to have you. Alternatively, please consider a donation at http://act.alz.org/goto/CascobaydpcWalktoEndAlz