It has been a long week and a half. Unknowingly so until today. For two consecutive Mondays, I accompanied my mother’s sister, my Aunt, to medical appointments here in Phoenix. Concerns with her memory. Now mind you, my Aunt is 83 years old and the most active of individuals. Seemingly sharp and aware. But in her gut she has always these concerns. Her half brother on her father’s side passed from complications of Alzheimer’s, my mother sufferers from a sort of dementia brought on by the use of a particular prescription drug and to the chagrin and denial of her daughters, my Aunt has always believed that my Grandfather was in the moderate stages of Alzheimer’s before his death at 83 years of age. In the old days this was referred to as hardening of the arteries. Well.
My Aunt drove down from Prescott and picked me up to be her eyes and ears at her first visit to Barrow’s Institute at St. Joseph’s Medical Center. We were greeted by a gentleman with a firm handshake, kind eyes, calm demeanor who guided us on this day’s journey. With deep dignity and respect, he moved us through the questions and memory testing. A sacred interaction for those looking to discover answers that may not lend themselves to being heard. This was our Physician’s assistant.
The doctor, who I later discovered was the Director of the Alzheimer’s division at Barrow’s, is a well-known author on the subject. He definitely had his hands full with my Aunt and her various intuitional inquiries and discoveries in the session.
As I wrote my notes and answered any questions posed to me by this doctor, I also appreciated his combination of authority, humor and compassion as well as his ability to go toe to toe with my Aunt. Again, all done with dignity and respect and the feeling that she was his most important patient. Another sacred encounter.
We went back this Monday. First for the MRI of my Aunt’s brain and then the appointment with the doctor for the results of this MRI, as well as the results of the genetic test. And again we were greeted by our young man who we discovered was actually middle-aged, was a PA and an EMT and has worked at Barrows for 20 years. Again, the strong handshake and the assured guidance on our journey. Sacred patience with the nervous talk and questioning of my Aunt.
And the knowledgeable doctor with the great sense of humor who responded to my Aunt’s statement that she thinks her memory has gotten worse this week with a laugh, “You gotta give me a break; you’ve only been my patient for a week!” The doctor’s recognition of the sacredness of his relationship with his patient made his revelations as to my Aunt’s journey easier.
My Aunt has been diagnosed with the beginnings of Alzheimer’s. Pre-stage. Her activeness and continued striving for a full life has delayed the onset. And because of her sacred desire for the family’s truth we now know she has inherited the gene for Alzheimer’s. Most likely from my Grandfather. Her daughters as well as my brother and myself may have had this gene passed to us. 50/50 chance. But it no longer has to stay a secret. It is now a part of sacred family story. One that can explain the actions of the past and the actions that foreshadow our future if we choose to accept its truth.
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