 Renee Kaplan, my grandmother, has been living with Alzheimer’s disease since January of 2000. During these past six years, my relationship with her has been riddled with moments of pain and joy.
I was born in 1989 and, at the time, my parents lived downstairs from my grandparents in a two family house in Brooklyn. So, from the day I was born, Renee was an active participant in my life.
Renee often walked me to school at P.S. 191. She helped me with my homework, and played cards and read books to me.
Eventually, my parents bought a house down the block from my grandmother’s house. Then, my grandfather died leaving Renee alone. By then, our relationship had changed, and Renee and I spent time together doing different things. She often took me to my baseball practices and to Hebrew school. It was during a ride home from baseball practice that I realized something wasn’t right with Renee.
While attempting to park the car, Renee forgot how to go in reverse. To help my grandmother, I got out of the car to direct her. After many frantic attempts, Renee hit the car behind her and gave up. She was embarrassed and ashamed.
Things progressed rapidly from there. My parents took Renee’s car so she couldn’t drive anymore. Soon after, Renee was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease by a neurologist at Cornell University Medical Center. Eventually, Renee forgot ordinary things - dates, birthdays, and names of friends. Then, when she tried to visit us in the middle of the night and became lost and confused on the way to my house, my parents arranged for 24-hour care.
Yet again, my relationship with my grandmother changed. I began to see Renee once a week or once every other week. It seemed easier that way because she was frustrated and so was I. This built-up frustration culminated during our Passover Seder this past April. In the middle of the Seder, Renee stood up and began yelling and throwing food across the table. My father and mother immediately took her home. I didn’t see Renee for a month, because I was afraid that she would become aggravated again.
In June, my mother discovered that one of the homecare workers had left Renee alone. It was then that I realized I needed to take an active role in caring for my grandmother. Originally I planned to travel to Europe for the summer, but I realized that staying in Brooklyn to spend time with Renee was a priority for my family and for me. We all decided to visit Renee on specific days of the week in order to take an active role in her life, making sure she was eating properly and interacting with people.
From my visits with Renee, I became very interested in Alzheimer’s disease, specifically methods for communicating and connecting with people with the disease. As my visits became more regular, I noticed that Renee seemed to recognize me. She began addressing me in more specific ways. She would often say, “I know you!” or “It’s you again.” I also found that she could focus on what I was saying for a few seconds longer if I touched her and called her by her name. There were even times of astounding clarity. During one particular visit, my father scolded her for not using a tissue to wipe her nose. When he left the room to get her a box of tissues, Renee leaned into me and whispered, “He’s a stupid man.” At that moment, I felt like I had my grandmother back, as humorous and witty as before.
By the middle of July, I started to log the different techniques I used to connect with my grandmother. I decided then to change the topic of my Intel Social Science research paper to “Communication with People with Alzheimer’s Disease.” I had found the perfect topic to research, and, again, my grandmother became an active part of my life. Renee would be proud and delighted that she is helping me with my research of this disease, which affects so many people.
—Evan Kaplan
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