couldn’t find it. Then she figured out that she needed to be looking for her baby blue bag. She changed the chant.
“Blue bag, blue bag, blue bag.”
She found it on the kitchen counter, her cell phone inside, but off. Maybe the noise was someone’s car alarm locking or unlocking outside. She resumed her position on the couch and opened Dan’s thesis to page twenty-six.
“Hello?” asked a man’s voice.
Alice looked up, eyes wide, and listened, as if she’d just been summoned by a ghost.
“Alice?” asked the disembodied voice.
“Yes?”
“Alice, are you ready to go?”
John appeared in the threshold of the living room looking expectant. She was relieved but needed more information.
“Let’s go. We’re meeting Bob and Sarah for dinner, and we’re already a little late.”
Dinner. She just realized she was starving. She didn’t remember eating any food today. Maybe that was why she couldn’t read Dan’s thesis. Maybe she just needed some food. But the thought of dinner and conversation in a loud restaurant drained her further.
“I don’t want to go to dinner. I’m having a hard day.”
“I had a hard day, too. Let’s go have a nice dinner together.”
“You go. I just want to be home.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. We didn’t go to Eric’s party. It’ll be good for you to get out, and I know they’d like to see you.”
No, they wouldn’t. They’ll be relieved that I’m not there. I’m a cotton candy pink elephant in the room. I make everyone uncomfortable. I turn dinner into a crazy circus act, everyone juggling their nervous pity and forced smiles with their cocktail glasses, forks, and knives.
“I don’t want to go. Tell them I’m sorry, but I wasn’t feeling up to it.”
Beep, beep.
She saw John hear the noise, too, and she followed him into the kitchen. He popped open the microwave oven door and pulled out a mug.
“This is freezing cold. Do you want me to reheat it?”
She must’ve made tea that morning, and she’d forgotten to drink it. Then, she must’ve put it in the microwave to reheat it and left it there.
“No, thanks.”
“All right, Bob and Sarah are probably already there waiting. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“I’m sure.”
“I won’t stay long.”
He kissed her and then left without her. She stood in the kitchen where he left her for a long time, holding the mug of cold tea in her hands.
SHE WAS ON HER WAY to bed, and John still hadn’t returned from dinner. The blue computer light glowing in the study caught her attention before she turned to go upstairs. She went in and checked her inbox, more out of habit than out of sincere curiosity.
There they were.
Dear Alice,
My name is Mary Johnson. I’m 57 and was diagnosed with FTD five years ago. I live on the North Shore, so not too far from you. This is such a wonderful idea. I’d love to come. My husband, Barry, will drive me. I’m not sure if he’ll want to stay. We’ve both taken an early retirement and we’re both home all the time. I think he’d like a break from me. See you soon,
Mary
Hi Alice,
I’m Dan Sullivan, 53 years old, diagnosed with EOAD 3 years ago. It runs in my family. My mother, two uncles, and one of my aunts had it, and 4 of my cousins do. So I saw this coming and have been living with it in the family since I was a kid. Funny, didn’t make the diagnosis or living with it now any easier. My wife knows where you live. Not far from MGH. Near Harvard. My daughter went to Harvard. I pray every day that she doesn’t get this.
Dan
Hi Alice,
Thank you for your email and invitation. I was diagnosed with EOAD a year ago, like you. It was almost a relief. I thought I was going crazy. I was getting lost in conversations, having trouble finishing my own sentences, forgetting my way home, couldn’t understand the checkbook anymore, was making mistakes with the kids’ schedules (I have a 15-year-old daughter and a 13-year-old son). I was only 46 when the symptoms started, so of course, no one ever thought it could be Alzheimer’s.
I think the medications help a lot. I’m on Aricept and Namenda. I have good days and bad. On the good, people and even my family use it as an excuse to think that I’m perfectly fine, even making this up! I’m not that desperate for attention! Then, a bad day hits, and I can’t think of words or