A little over a year ago, on September 8, 2025, my life took a permanent turn when I received an early-stage Alzheimer’s diagnosis from Duke Neurology.
The title of this post is a portion of the plain-English report I received.
It marked the beginning of a journey that I often call "the long goodbye." Since then, Linda and I have had to navigate incredible uncertainty, adjust to worsening symptoms, and make difficult choices about my treatments and our future.
It would be easy for me to give up the fight and let nature run its course. There are certainly days when that is precisely what I desire. Yet, I have always been a fighter, and even with the monumental adversities Alzheimer’s disease presents, I am going to make the best of my remaining years.
Adversity is a state of serious difficulty, hardship, or misfortune.
We face a new adversity with the daily rising sun. Adversities are joined by opportunities, which are often weighed down by challenges. Our challenges may morph into struggles, and those struggles can run amok and develop into sadness.
There is a proverb that says, “Where there is no struggle, there is no strength.” Whoever came up with that saying did not suffer from Alzheimer’s disease. My physical strength and endurance are limited thanks to Alzheimer’s disease.
My mother often told the child version of me, “What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.” To this day, I do not understand that proverb. Did my mother actually want me to risk death cleaning my room in the hope that I survive as a stronger child? The more I learn about Alzheimer’s disease, the less sense Mother’s saying makes. The reality is that Alzheimer’s is killing me. And I am actually getting weaker.
I get the point, though. Face the adversities head-on, look for opportunities, overcome the challenges, kick the struggles to the curb, try not to become sad, and seek strength.
The essay I wrote on September 8 demonstrates my lifelong ability to follow the above formula with a decent degree of success. I am most proud of my volunteer work and modest philanthropic contributions to help the homeless in Durham, North Carolina.
Alzheimer’s disease put an enormous wrinkle in my plan to work until age 75.
I have always been a tad outspoken, or as my sister eloquently said, “Greg has always been driven, brimming with idealism, passionate, enthusiastic, innovative, and rarely deterred by risk. Impetuous and impulsive? Absolutely.”
At the risk of ruffling feathers, or as the British would say, ‘getting on your wick,’ I am stepping upon my soapbox for a brief message.
While our substantial rent reduction is a step in the right direction, the financial strain remains incredibly tight. Unfortunately, the financial relief we hoped for has been heavily blunted. The savings from our lower rent are quickly being eaten up by out-of-control inflation, which impacts everything from our daily necessities to basic household expenses. Managing a terminal illness on a fixed income is an ongoing battle against rising costs. Can someone please stop the Washington madness? If it can’t be stopped, please, I beg you, ask the president to send Linda and me a few bucks. We can be happy with half of the money Trump gave Natalie Harp for Christmas.
Please forgive my soapbox outburst. Can I blame Alzheimer’s for my lack of soapbox control?
As I move into my second year as an Alzheimer’s patient, my focus remains on advocacy, education, and resilience. Writing these reports and connecting with this community gives me purpose amid the decline. I am incredibly thankful for your continued readership, your comments, and your support as Linda and I pass this milestone.
Speaking of support, if possible, please toss a few coins in one of the following buckets. You can consider it my Alzheimer’s first anniversary gift.
Thank you. Linda and I are grateful.