Although I have dedicated this page to my Grandma, Joyce Maycock, I have in fact lost a total of three of my grandparents to this disease, as both William Maycock (Joyce’s husband) and Harry Markley (my maternal grandfather) suffered from this condition and subsequently died.

Alzheimers was first diagnosed in 1906, by an eminent neurologist and psychiatrist of the same name. It is a progressive disease, gradually damaging more parts of the brain which in turn leads to the symptoms becoming more severe. By 2050 as many as 1 in 85 people worldwide are predicted to be affected by this disease. Take a moment to think how old you will be, I will be 67, puts me two years in to the time where the disease stops being a thing of the future and starts to be a real and present issue (it becomes a real risk at 65).

There are many things that I could share about my Grandma. She was a loving and caring person, who successfully raised four children and subsequently had a brood of 11 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. She rarely if ever wore trousers (my Grandad was a traditionalist as was she) and had waist length hair which was always tied back neatly in a bun. She always gave us bananas and ice cream for breakfast when we stayed, which we always ate in front of the gas fire as we waited for the living room to heat up (she didn’t have central heating).  

Alzheimers is a cruel disease as it robs us of our loved ones.  Often the symptoms are dismissed as being a part of old age. It starts with brief moments of forgetfulness and confusion, followed by an inability to recall short term memories. When I did visit her I would try to talk about her long term memories, when she honeymooned in Paris (a sign that she and Grandad were well to-do back then!) or her memories of us growing up.  The problem is that as the disease progressed her long term memories slowly disappeared, to the extent that she would have trouble even holding a conversation. How do you visit a person who has become a shell of what they used to be?  Often the person will regress back from both society and life, leaving loved ones, through no choice of their own.

Another cruel aspect is the effect that this will eventually have on those loved ones. From diagnosis most sufferers are not expected to live beyond 7 years, they rarely survive to as much as 14 years.  In this time the brain gradually degenerates, leading to the body giving up. Often couples and their families, who are at the end of their working lives, when they should be looking forward to a happy retirement, face the biggest battle. It is not only the sufferer who is a victim, those looking on are left feeling helpless.  Their loved one’s become people that they do not recognise. The brain is the epicentre of everything that makes us what we are. It is our memories, our feelings, our emotions. On a more utilitarian note it is also the thing that controls all our bodily functions.  Once alzheimers hits, that person is altered, changed irrevocably.

Death, I felt, was almost a blessing for all my grandparents. It meant there was a release for us (the family) and them, but it also carried with it a huge amount of guilt and grief. How can you be glad to have lost someone so intrinsically part of who and what you are?

Thank you for reading this far, as I previously mentioned I have many memories of my Grandma. She was born in 1929 to a generation that lived and survived through WW2. Her own Grandmother travelled to Australia before the war to visit family and when it broke out she became trapped there. She wrote to Joyce (a girl in her teens) often via Postcard, telling her she loved her and could not wait to see her again. Unfortunately she died shortly before the war ended. Those postcards are now a part of our family history.  My Grandma never openly spoke of this, I believe she possibly grieved in her own quiet way. She came from an era where she wore long gloves and ball gowns when she was “going out” in her youth, she was a fan of Greta Garbo and other iconic film stars. She conducted herself with grace and dignity, she would never have worn her pyjamas/nightie outside the house let alone to the shops!

Again thank you for reading this, please give whatever you can afford, no matter how small. As I previously asked how old will you be in 2050? I have said I will be 67, on the 21 April 2013 when I am running the Virgin London Marathon I shall be 30 to the day, hopefully I shall be finished before 4pm which is the time I was born. I anticipate being in almost as much pain as my mother 30 years before.  At least you can rest assured that you will be donating money to a cause that will hopefully prevent/treat/cure a condition that could affect you and your loved ones.

 

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