Still Alice Page 0,57
to risk being blunt and too personal here. Is everything okay at home?”
“Yes.”
“How about you then, is it possible that you’re overstressed or depressed?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“This is a little embarrassing to have to ask, but do you think you might have a drinking or substance problem?”
Now she’d heard enough. I can’t live with a reputation of being a depressed, stressed-out addict. Having dementia has to carry less of a stigma than that.
“Eric, I have Alzheimer’s disease.”
His face went blank. He had been braced to hear about John’s infidelity. He was ready with the name of a good psychiatrist. He was prepared to orchestrate an intervention or to have her admitted to McLean Hospital to dry out. He was not prepared for this.
“I was diagnosed in January. I had a hard time teaching last semester, but I didn’t realize how much it showed.”
“I’m sorry, Alice.”
“Me, too.”
“I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Neither was I.”
“I was expecting something temporary, something you would get past. This isn’t a temporary problem we’re looking at.”
“No, no, it’s not.”
Alice watched him think. He was like a father to everyone in the department, protective and generous, but also pragmatic and strict.
“Parents are paying forty grand a year now. This wouldn’t go over well with them.”
No, it certainly wouldn’t. They weren’t shelling out astronomical dollars to have their sons and daughters learn from someone with Alzheimer’s. She could already hear the uproar, the scandalous sound bites on the evening news.
“Also, a couple of students from your class are contesting their grades. I’m afraid that would only escalate.”
In twenty-five years of teaching, no one had ever contested a grade given by her. Not a single student.
“I think you probably shouldn’t be teaching anymore, but I’d like to respect your time line. Do you have a plan?”
“I’d hoped to stay on for the year and then take my sabbatical, but I hadn’t appreciated the extent to which my symptoms were showing and disrupting my lectures. I don’t want to be a bad teacher, Eric. That’s not who I am.”
“I know it’s not. How about a medical leave that would take you into your sabbatical year?”
He wanted her out now. She had an exemplary body of work and performance history, and most important, she had tenure. Legally, they couldn’t fire her. But that was not how she wanted to handle this. As much as she didn’t want to give up her career at Harvard, her fight was with Alzheimer’s disease, not with Eric or Harvard University.
“I’m not ready to leave, but I agree with you, as much as it breaks my heart, I think I should stop teaching. I’d like to stay on as Dan’s adviser, though, and I’d like to continue to attend seminars and meetings.”
I am no longer a teacher.
“I think we can work that out. I’d like you to have a talk with Dan, explain to him what’s going on and leave the decision up to him. I’d be happy to coadvise with you if that makes either of you more comfortable. Also, obviously, you shouldn’t take on any new graduate students. Dan will be the last.”
I am no longer a research scientist.
“You probably shouldn’t be accepting invitations to speak at other universities or conferences. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for you to be representing Harvard in that kind of capacity. I have noticed that you’ve stopped traveling for the most part, so maybe you’ve already recognized this.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“How do you want to handle telling the administrative faculty and people in the department? Again, I’ll respect your time line here, whatever you want to do.”
She was going to stop teaching, researching, traveling, and lecturing. People were going to notice. They were going to speculate and whisper and gossip. They were going to think she was a depressed, stressed-out addict. Maybe some of them already did.
“I’ll tell them. It should come from me.”
September 17, 2004
Dear Friends and Colleagues,
Upon thoughtful consideration and with deep sorrow, I have decided to step down from my teaching, research, and traveling responsibilities at Harvard. In January of this year, I was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. While I am likely still in the early to moderate stages of the disease, I’ve been experiencing unpredictable cognitive lapses that make it impossible for me to meet the demands of this position with the highest of standards that I’ve always held myself to and that are expected here.
While you’ll no longer see me at the podium in the lecture auditoriums or busy writing new grant proposals,