My Grandad Arthur was a very quiet, unassuming man…a true gentleman who despite having a manual job and spending his days in his blue overalls working in a chemical
factory would come home, clean up and change in to a suit.  That’s how I remember him – immaculately dressed…that and our weekly treat of the Look-In comic and a box of Malteasers!  He never swore or raised his voice but something changed and at the very young age of 57 (only 10 years older than I am now), it was like my Grandad had had a personality transplant. This smartly dressed man no longer took pride in his appearance and would become frustrated and angry, often coming out with lots of ‘new words’ that my sister and I would find funny as young children do when they hear swear words!

It was like he had become trapped in his own body and over the years that followed he
gradually regressed to being almost childlike again.  My Mum was an only child so, all the responsibility for caring for my Grandad fell to her.  This had a massive impact on my Mum and our family, in particular my sister and I who were very young when my Grandad was first diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.  We would visit Grandad every weekend in the home where he lived and then later, when his condition became worse and he was no longer safe to look after himself, in a geriatric ward that was full of patients with the same awful illness as my Grandad…a frightening place for a child to visit and usually when my sister and I were at our quietest all week!  One of the saddest things though was how his family and people who were his lifelong friends gradually stayed away, they didn’t visit and didn’t call…mental health was very much a taboo subject then and it was easier for people to ignore what was happening to him. 

My Grandad lived for another 14 years after he was diagnosed and yet it was only when I started writing this that I realised I never really knew him...he was taken from us all too soon!  There was no medication then to slow if down, you just got progressively worse.  Today, the advancement in research means medication can help to slow down the decline but it still can't stop the inevitable from happening and provide a cure.  This disease touches the lives of so many people, whether as patients or as carers and cuts people down in their prime.  So, in memory of my Grandad Arthur I've decided to pull on my walking boots and along with my dodgy back, I'm joining the InsureTrek gang in the Alps this September.  Our aim is to raise £75,000 to help fund the advancement of research and hopefully one day, in years to come, there will be a cure for this sad and lonely disease.  I would really appreciate any support you can give, no matter how small...every little helps!