Hello, friends.
It is 5:45 Thursday morning in Greensboro, North Carolina.
After a restless night spattered with vivid dreams and long periods of insomnia, I woke up and read emails that came in overnight. One email contained a comment on my blog post about hope. As I proceeded to respond to the comment, I struggled to type the word “cruel.” I could not remember how to spell “cruel.” I then realized I felt disoriented and confused.
After drinking water and making a cup of coffee, my Alzheimer’s brain began clearing out the fog. I laughed at the irony of not being able to spell “cruel.” Alzheimer’s disease and all dementias are cruel. So cruel that my Alzheimer’s would not let me spell the word that best describes it.
I turned on the morning news, and the headlines demonstrated the rampant cruelty in the world currently. Even the Laughing Cow stopped laughing due to the petty arguments driving people apart today.
It is easy to look at the headlines, or even look at my own hands trembling and struggling to find the right keys on a Thursday morning, and feel overwhelmed by that darkness. The fog of this disease wants to isolate us. It wants us to believe that cruelty is the default state of the world.
But as the coffee takes effect, Big Bit curls up beside me, and the morning light enters the room, I am reminded of a deeper truth. This disease may be cruel, but the people who have stepped into this valley with me are overwhelmingly gracious. Each of you provides the hope I wrote about yesterday.
Over the past year, my wife Linda and I have been deeply moved by the quiet acts of kindness from friends, old contacts, and strangers alike. When Alzheimer’s forced us to close our business, uproot our lives, and face a mountain of expenses, it was your grace that kept us steady. You have shown me that while the disease is relentless, human empathy can be even stronger.
Yet, as we turn the calendar page today, I have to be completely transparent with you.
Today marks the beginning of October. In the calendar of advocacy, October is a critical threshold for us. Right now, our GoFundMe campaign has stalled, the direct donations that keep this blog sustainable have slowed to a standstill, and subscriptions to my independent, scientific research reports are below the threshold needed to cover publication expenses. Behind the scenes, the reality of managing worsening symptoms, mounting care costs, increasing basic living expenses, and the daily hours required to scour medical journals is putting a heavy strain on our resources.
If this work is going to survive and thrive through the winter, we need to turn up the heat.
I am making October our Breakthrough Fundraising Month. My goal is to get our community actively re-engaged. If you have found value, hope, or a sense of shared purpose in these words, I am asking you to back that up with action this month. I want to get both publications into a sustainable, financially viable position. This will allow me to focus on research and writing instead of asking for your support.
You can help us break this stall in a few concrete ways:
Support the Journey Directly: Consider making a direct contribution to our GoFundMe campaign to help us build the baseline safety net we need for upcoming care and increasing living expenses.
Become a Part of the Research: If you value the deep-dive science updates, consider upgrading to a paid Substack subscription. It keeps this vital independent advocacy alive. I am extending a 50% discount on annual subscriptions until October 5.
Share the Story: If you can’t give financially, please copy the link to this post and share it with three people in your network.
We cannot stop the progression of the disease on our own, but together, we can absolutely outshine its cruelty with our collective grace. Let’s make this October a turning point.
Finally, Linda and I have decided that it would be beneficial for me to get a second opinion on the progression of my Alzheimer’s and the persistent chills I am experiencing. The process starts this morning with a visit to a primary care physician who will provide a referral. Greensboro has a well-regarded, comprehensive neurology clinic.
Thank you for caring and supporting me as I fight the cruelty of Alzheimer’s.
Greg