Flowers For Algernon

I was going to start a post about how life's changing, and how christmas exemplifies this. For virtually every year of my life (except a few years ago when my dad was grumpy and didn't feel like going out), we've spent Christmas Eve at Ray and Rene's place. It's a big gathering of some of my parents old friends from who knows when. Every year, we'd go out past Macleod and Heritage, look for the house with all the unique orange christmas lights, and everything would be warm and happy. It didn't really matter that there weren't any others around the same age as my brother and I, there were some people a bit younger who we could interact with, or we could just sit and listen to the adults being British. But apparently last year was the last one. A few years ago, Ray died, but the gathering went on. But Rene was developing alzheimers, and it's now at a point where our christmas eve gathering simply can't happen. A lifelong tradition is over, and it saddens me. I didn't really know these people well, saw them once a year (or twice back when there was also a summer barbequeue, that ended years ago though), but I will still miss them. Oh well, it's part of growing up.

I guess I almost knew it was over last year. At the end, saying goodbye to some people, shared some eye contact with Samantha, I don't know about her, but I felt like it was almost a recognition of the way life really is and the illusions we create... I really don't know how to explain. I know for quite some time afterwards I wanted to talk to her about it, but of course, that opportunity never came.

But now I'm thinking more and more about Rene and her alzheimers. I hate it, it's a terrible thing. Even last year she'd sometimes sound a little crazy and I wasn't sure how to react. And we'd all share understanding glances between each other. As time goes by, things only get worse. Some stuff almost seems humorous, like apparently she was telling her daughter that they should really sell one of their houses since she really doesn't need two. It's actually just one house, but she thinks it's a different place depending on if she come's in the back door or front door. Almost funny, but instead it almost makes me want to cry. Last year, she was aware that Ray was dead, but now she just thinks he's away on a course. Last year, she sometimes didn't even know one of her daughters was her daughter. It's so evil.

But I'm not sure how she feels. I can imagine she's still happy. That is, if she doesn't know any better. I really don't know how aware she is of her condition. I know first hand the feeling of being smart enough to know you're going stupid. To know how far you've fallen. Imagine (and I know the terminology's not quite right here) being sane enough to know your crazy. To be lost in your own home. To see your family and know that tomorrow you might not recognize them. I think that would be agony.

Alzheimer's n : a progressive form of presenile dementia that is similar to senile dementia except that it usually starts in the 40s or 50s; first symptoms are impaired memory which is followed by impaired thought and speech and finally complete helplessness.

Even if I would be ignorant of what was happening, happy in my own little world, I don't think I would want to live with alzheimers. The suffering loved ones would go through watching me deteriorate. Although they'd still love me and object to this, I think I might rather just be gone and set them free.

I don't know how to conclude this, so that's it.