This heart-breaking love story will enlighten and offer support to those who struggle with the brutality and inevitability of Alzheimer's Disease. Readers will identify with the compassion of one care giver in comparison with the brutality of the disease itself.

When I think of who my mother was in her prime, and who she became in the end, it's like imagining two different people. She too was a graduate from nursing school in 1943. Care giving was natural for her. She came from a large family of seven children who worked hard on their farm to make ends meet. She helped provide for the family and took care of her younger siblings. She enjoyed working in the hospital and felt at ease among the halls of medicine. She never would have wanted her life to become so dependent upon others but unfortunately, her nurturing role was reversed. My father stepped into the role of care giver for 15 years as she helplessly became the unwilling recipient.

My greatest hope for today is to spread awareness of the disease and support extensive research for the promise of a cure once and for all.
About the Author: Suzanne Johnson's experience with disabilities and prior career of nursing with the elderly give Johnson a unique awareness of personal and family needs when dealing with physical and emotional limitations.

Johnson lives in Maine with her husband of 37 years. They have two wonderful adult children and a lovable black lab.

A note about Alzheimer's care from the Author: I graduated from nursing school in 1971. Alzheimer's was even more of a mystery back then. It was often linked with dementia which is primarily caused by hardening of the arteries, while Alzheimer's has a distinctive feature of a build up of amyloid plaques on the brain, causing brain functions to shut down over the course of time. In the 70's, Alzheimer's patients did not receive the care and attention they deserved. It was assumed that old age harbored dementia and Alzheimer's patients were listed as such.

The nursing home I worked at in 1972 had no special unit for Alzheimer patients. They were often restrained in chairs and rolled into large solariums to be left there until it was time for someone to feed them a meal. Heavy doses of sedatives were frequently given to healthier individuals who managed to wander outdoors or become belligerent. Some of the patients were ridiculed by young aides who did not know any better. I distinctly remember a teacher we had as a patient. Every morning, she was bathed and harnessed into her chair with wheels and parked near the nurse's station. She believed she was still a teacher and would often speak to nurses and aides as if they were her pupils. It was endearing to most, but in retrospect, she was worthy of much more care and understanding than she was given.

As for myself, I am angry and frustrated with the disease. It dissolved my mother and devastated my father in ways unimaginable. Their golden years were tarnished with the pain and restrictions caused by Alzheimer's. We, as a family, were bewildered by the new roles we had to learn. My mother was stolen from me at a time when my own children were growing up while she was forced into a frightening world of delusion.