Columnist Sandra Thompson: Caregivers deal with Alzheimer's a day at a time

SANDRA THOMPSON is vice president/associate editor of the Las Vegas Sun. She can be reached at 259-4025 or on the Internet at [email protected]

ALZHEIMER'S is a cruel disease. It robs you of your memories and your identity.

The numbers of those afflicted with the progressive, degenerative disease of the brain are startling: 4 million. According to a Gannett news report, nearly half of the nation's population age 85 and older have the disease, and about 400,000 new cases are diagnosed each year.

Alzheimer's, the most common form of dementia, is the fourth leading cause of death in adults after heart disease, cancer and stroke.

Generally, people who have Alzheimer's don't suffer, their relatives and caregivers do. They watch their loved ones die "one brain cell at a time."

Those who are afflicted lose their memory, have trouble performing routine tasks and have their judgment impaired, among other symptoms.

In the later stages, Alzheimer's victims have trouble finding their way around. They may go for a walk or drive and forget how to get home.

According to the Alzheimer's Association of Southern Nevada, it's common for a person with the disease to wander. Some meet tragic fates. Others, like 89-year-old Sam, are found safe.

Sam has had Alzheimer's for about four years. Initially, the former secretary-treasurer of a Teamsters local would be forgetful. More recently, he couldn't remember some people's names or details of the many treasured trips he took with his wife of 27 years.

On Saturday a week ago, for some unknown reason, Sam got into his car and went for a drive. His wife, Fedora, says he has always been a careful driver. "The car is the one big love of his life," she says.

She became worried when he didn't come home that night. Once or twice before he had gone for a drive and had gotten lost amid the new construction and unfamiliar roads in eastern Las Vegas and Henderson. A few hours after Fedora called police, an officer spotted his car and led him home.

No such luck this time. By Sunday afternoon, Fedora was distraught. She had contacted the police, but they could not devote manpower to look for Sam. They did make up a missing person's report that was given to other police agencies and the media.

By Monday morning she was frantic. His car had no air conditioning. Temperatures soared above 100. Was he sick -- or worse, dead -- parked on a desert road?

The Sun ran Sam's picture and his description in Monday's afternoon edition. It was a jolt to see it in print, and Fedora by this time was fearing the worst.

"I had been praying and crying for days," she says.

Late Monday, she received a call from Caliente, a small town 171 miles from Las Vegas. A Lincoln County deputy sheriff had found Sam sitting in his car parked on the side of the road in Caliente.

The deputy sheriff, who had received an alert about Sam's disappearance, knew he wasn't dangerous. Instead of housing him in a jail cell, he called a couple who lived nearby and asked if Sam could stay there for a few hours.

Sam was eating fried chicken and talking and laughing with the couple when Fedora and her daughter arrived in Caliente a few hours after the initial call.

When he saw Fedora, Sam hugged and kissed her. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you. I've been waiting for you here," he said.

How he ended up in Caliente is a mystery. "It's amazing how he functions in his car," Fedora says, "but can't remember other things."

Messages left with Metro's missing persons department to discuss how it deals with these situations and what families could do were not returned.

If the Caliente deputy sheriff had not been so alert, there's no telling how far Sam would have traveled or what may have happened.

There's no cure for Alzheimer's. It just gets progressively worse until people can't find their way around at all and don't recognize loved ones.

That's difficult for relatives to accept, a spokesman for the Alzheimer's Association says. That's why he encourages them and other caregivers to join support groups. There are at least six in Las Vegas and one in Pahrump. Call 248-2770 for times and locations.

Through the groups, caregivers and relatives learn how to handle difficult behavior problems and share ways they can become less impatient and frustrated.

"We haven't developed enough patience to listen to them (those with the disease) and to understand them," Fedora says.

For now, she copes one day at a time, and is very grateful to a deputy sheriff and Caliente couple.

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