My mom had Alzheimer’s. And she gave me secondhand Alzheimer’s.
Haven’t heard of secondhand Alzheimer’s? I’m not surprised. I think I coined the term. The way I saw it, either I had some devastating disease as a result of taking care of Mom with her devastating disease, or I was a complete jerk. Since I didn’t want to think of myself as a complete jerk, I decided I had secondhand Alzheimer’s. …
During the first few days that my mother spent in hospice, I silently sat by her bed watching her chest rise and fall, listening to her moan, counting her doses of Ativan, Tylenol, and Morphine, and tallying the days she’d been without food and water.
On day five of my vigil, I asked her nurse, “How long can Mom live like this? She hasn’t opened her eyes or eaten or had …
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