My Alzheimer's Journey

Part 33 - Death

Note to my readers, followers, and subscribers:

I wrote this blog post a long time ago. It was Part 7 of my story. I decided not to publish it, though. The timing did not seem right.

Lying awake at three this morning, hoping to get more sleep, I read a very moving story about Mike West and his Alzheimer’s journey. Suddenly, the time seemed right to publish Part 7 - now Part 33.

As someone who is a firm believer in science, medical research, and provable facts, I view death as the permanent and irreversible end of all biological functions, marking the end of life for a person, animal, or plant.

The first time I experienced the raw reality of death was at age eighteen while working as an Emergency Medical Technician for a volunteer fire department. It was about six in the morning when my pager woke me to respond to a serious traffic accident involving a gasoline tanker truck.

The scene was horrific. The tanker truck was engulfed in flames. Another truck was not recognizable. The driver of the tanker truck was screaming. Soon, the screams stopped.

There was nothing the ambulance crew could do. The heat was so intense, we could not get near the burning truck.

After the fire was contained, I and my fellows EMT’s moved toward the burned out truck cab. Our mission was to remove the body. For some reason, I took the lead and climbed on top of the turned over truck cab. I reached through a broken window and placed my arms under the body of the truck driver. Due to the intense fire, his body was fused to the seat springs. With help from another EMT, I managed to remove what was mostly a skeleton.

It took me weeks to overcome the rawness of that day. To this day, I vividly remember the images, the smells, and the sounds of that awful accident.

Since that day fifty years ago, I have experienced the death of grandparents, parents, a sister, my father-in-law, and several close friends. Every one of these deaths were sad. Some were tragic. Some were expected. All of them were permanent.

I think I have always been curious about death. Not fearful. Certainly, not expecting anything after I take my last breath. For me, the greatest concern about death is the sadness others will experience.

Of course, the truck driver fifty years ago was unable to prepare for his death. He was not given the chance to say goodbye to loved ones. The sadness his family and friends experienced must have been overwhelming.

As I try to accept that my awful disease is going to end in death long before I expected to die, I am facing many hard decisions.

How much do you fight the inevitable? How do you prepare for the end? How do you spend your remaining time? How do you tell loved ones and friends that you have an incurable disease?

At this point, I have no answers to those questions. Instead, I have memories of a very fulfilling life. Today, I enjoy a life supported by a wonderful wife and her family (now my family), my feline children, and many friends and acquaintances.

Together, we will make the best of every day.