The agenda included speeches by a psychiatrist and



a geriatrician, followed by a panel of four caregivers

reporting on their own experiences.

The purpose was to educate, inform and support

an audience of caregivers who were struggling,

largely in isolation, with all sorts of issues, and

to provide an opportunity for them

to share experiences and to ask questions.

At first, I didn???t want to make this presentation.

I thought it would be an improper invasion of my

mother???s privacy to talk about her in a public forum.

Besides, it was an emotionally powerful subject

and, even though I had done a lot of public

speaking, I wasn???t sure I could handle this one in a

calm and professional manner.

I knew I would have to talk about Mom???s long,

slow descent into the opaque fog of multi-infarct

dementia: This is a different syndrome than the

well-known dementia called Alzheimer???s disease,

and it can be caused by frequent ???silent??? mini-strokes.

Here is the way a physician described the condition

to me: the ???victim??? of such events may not be, indeed

usually is not, aware that anything out of the ordinary

has occurred. Neither are his or her significant others.

Perhaps there is momentary weakness, headache,

or dizziness, but nothing major. Over time, however,

enough damage is done to the brain that symptoms begin

to appear. While some of these manifestations are unique

to this syndrome, all dementias have certain behavioral

commonalities.

Anyway, the program sponsors prevailed. All of the

other panel participants were women, they told me.

They said that the program needed a man who

was willing to share his experience as a caregiver,

as well as his feelings.

Men don???t easily do this kind of thing, they said,

so ???please,??? they pleaded, and finally wore down

my resistance. They pointed out that lots of men

are caregivers and that these listeners would

appreciate hearing a presentation by a man

about this sensitive subject.

In retrospect, they were right. The male caregivers

in the audience, and there were many, directed

most of their questions to me, andquite a few

approached me afterwards to thank me.

They suggested that a book describing my experience

as a male caregiver is urgently needed in the

marketplace. Existing books, they said, do not

address their feelings and unique responsibilities

as sons and husbands.

So, Dementia Diary, A Caregivers Journal is first and

foremost a memoir about what it???s like to be the only

child, a son, and the caregiver of a widowed and cognitively

impaired mother who lives alone half a continent away.

I also asked many of the women present at the conference

if such a book would find a readership among female

caregivers. Interestingly, they thought it would???that women,

too, would benefit from reading a man???s point of view

on the care giving experience.

I learned a lot that evening. The presentations and

audience questions taught me that the kinds of

bittersweet anecdotes described in Dementia Diary

are the common lot of all who deal with the

reality of dementia in a loved one.

Alzheimers and other dementias are diseases that

know no boundaries. They are blind to the categories

in which we usually place our fellow human beings.

They can occur at the age of 55 or 85. They can happen

to Blacks, Whites, Hispanics, Asians, Jews, Christians,

Muslims, males and females, rich and poor. Ex-presidents

have not been spared.

Tears are shed by husbands and wives, sons and daughters,

brothers and sisters???in fact anyone responsible for the

care of a loved one with dementia. I hope that this book

will help all such wonder-workers to understand that

they are not alone. My mother would want it that way.

Finally, it is my wish that caregivers will see beyond the

sadness, tragedy and, yes, comedy sometimes associated

with the evening hours of life, and will recognize that

dementia, while terrible, does not diminish

the essential humanity of the afflicted individual.