The Alzheimer Deamon


It starts out slowly
With a word monopoly
"Its just my age" she says
With no idea of what lies ahead.

"Now where did I just put my glasses?"
Its the short term memory, you know, that goes the fastest
This is the point her children start to guess
"Lets keep it quiet, that seems best."

The deamon sinks its claws in ever deeper
Locking memories away, the evil door keeper.
He turns recent memories into dust
And starts turning the others into rust.

There's less rust the farther back you go
Memories intact but details far from pro.
The memories fade gradually it's true
Always creeping toward a non-existent you.

Now the grandchild may start to notice
As grandma seems to have a hard time with focus.
No one says anything at all
Acknowledging it would cause hopes to fall.

Now she starts sending money away
In the annoying spam letters that come every day.
And now the job is taken on by one of the Aunts
She's taken over all Grandma's finances.

Now we have to identify ourselves on the phone
And the siblings start to worry about her living alone.
She takes a walk every day
And there's the worry of a fall, or loosing her way.

Today was a really close scare
We were lucky somebody went over there
The gas on the stove got left on
And with no sense of smell, there could have been an explosion.

Now the Aunt visits Grandma every day
And her's taking her away
Now there are doctor's visits discussed in family emails
And the grandchildren are starting to get it, slowly, like snails.

Now the calendar is the central star
Figuring out the schedule from afar.
The medications are getting complicated now too,
Along with conversations between her, me, and you.

The Deamon has now taken all that is new
She'll ask you the same question, even if she already asked you
We'll talk for a while, soon she'll grow silent
My fidgeting grows silently more violent

Now I'm almost wiped from her memory
Remembering only that I'm at college, and that's only temporary
At family functions she just sits in her chair
Her brain full and empty beneath a mop of grey hair.

She needs help doing everything in the day
This for a woman who skipped seventh grade.
On top of loosing her memory
She has cataracts, has lost her sight, she can't see!

Now every night of the week
There's someone to stay with her while she sleeps
She needs a lot more care,
The family is working to get her there.

She needs to be not at her home
She has no memory, she can't be alone.
She's lost enough she can't be trusted outside
Without a friend or family member, someone to guide.

The siblings are trying to keep things nearly the same
The birthday cards come as they've always came
But no matter how hard they keep trying,
Even the youngest ones know, a big part of grandma is dying.

The Alzheimer Deamon has now got her in his grasp
He has chained her, tightened the clasp
The Alzheimer Deamon has brought me to this day
And swept her, my grandmother, far far away.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 12/01/08. This is a poem letting me get out a lot of the things surrounding my grandma, who has alzheimers disease.  Its half imaginary and half truth, I might try a fully figurative one next, it seems to want to come out...

View k4horses4ever's Full Portfolio