Just like that ...

It feels like a door has been closed or slammed shut really. For the past 8 months we have had this cloud of uncertainty hanging over us. Even though we’ve pretty much known for a while now, there was always still that possibility … that hope. 

From the beginning my mom has said she would rather it be anything BUT Alzheimer’s. It’s not even been a year since we buried my dad’s mom, who had a rapid progression of dementia due to a head injury. So for her that’s what Alzheimer’s will be like. She will forget us all. She will be a shell of a person and miserable. The reality is we are a ways off from that, but my grandma was almost 90. She lived many, many good years. Mom is 54 … 

Last week’s test at Baylor was basically supposed to tell us whether or not the proteins that are present in brains with Alzheimer’s were present in her brain. The way the doctor explained it to us was that the areas of heavy protein (they have another name for it - Amyvid) would light up red on the scan. 

He took us into the room and we all sat quietly while he pulled her scans up on his screen. Her brain lit up like a Christmas tree, a very red Christmas tree. My heart sank. 

The truth is in my gut I knew this is why he had called us in, but there still remained that small sliver of hope. I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe … I mean I still believe that God does miracles. I see evidence of them all over. So maybe the scans would show something everyone else had missed. Something that could be fixed and then my mom would be the mom I’ve always known and life could go back to normal and this past year would be something we all laughed about one day. 

But the proof that I’d been hoping for, the answers I”d been seeking stared back at me from that screen…not only was the Alzheimer’s protein heavy in the back of her brain (where she has already been diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy) but it was also heavily present on the sides and the front. We are still in the early stages…we knew that she’s 54. What this means though is that by the age that most people experience onset of symptoms mom will be in a rapid decline. We are looking at anywhere from 5-10 years of decline. 

She will have good days. She will have bad days. There will be days when the cylinders just don’t click. He expressed to her the importance of taking care of herself. He talked with her about finding something to do that she enjoys. We had a good laugh because every hobby that she could come up with she won’t be able to do because of her vision. We are still dealing with the fact that she will function very much like a blind person eventually. 

Mom handled it wonderfully. Every other single trip we’ve taken to the doctor she leaves crying uncontrollably. This time she took it all like a champ. We are going to try a medicine for 3 months and then go back and see him. 

For me, it feels like a really crappy ending to one chapter and a crappy start to the next. The future is unknown, it is scary. I know I will be up for the battle (and there will be many of them) but right now, in this moment, I just don’t want to think about the fight that lies ahead. 

All the things I know about Jesus are still true. He is still fighting for me and with me. He has not abandoned me. There is a plan in all this crazy madness. He will find a way for his glory to be shown to others through our fight and he will hold me steady through it all.