"Why would that nurse say I needed Aricept?" my mother sobbed to me over the phone.
I remember the day. It was a cold, February morning and I was out shopping, looking for a wrap to wear for my husband's banquet later that day. My cell phone rang. Caller ID said it was my parents, who lived two hours away.
"Aimee, the doctor's office called and the nurse on the phone said she had my prescription of Aricept ready. Why would she say that? Is there something wrong with me? Do I have Alzheimer's?"
My heart sank and I felt like I was going to be sick. I had no idea how to answer her question.
"Mom, Mom, where's Dad?" I questioned.
"He went to the store. The phone rang. The nurse from the doctor's office said she had my prescription of Aricept ready. Why would she say that?" Mom said.
Growing up, my mother was highly organized. Could always tell what detail in the room was out of order from when she last saw it. Now she was constantly misplacing her glasses, purse, keys, hairbrush, etc. and they'd end up in the strangest of places. My mother was also the person who knew what every prescription name, what it was prescribed for and what side effects it could possibly have. Her own mother, my Nonna, had died from Alzheimer's just ten years earlier. Mom was Nonna's primary caregiver. Of course Mom knew what Aricept was prescribed for- Nonna had taken it years before.The damned Alzheimer's was back, but this time, for my mother.
A few months earlier I had been watching Mom at my niece's birthday party. She was surrounded by family, but she looked bewildered, confused. I knew that look. I had seen it on my Nonna's face years before. It scared me. I knew, in the pit of my stomach, what was happening to her, even before the diagnosis.
"Do I have Alzheimer's?" my Mom questioned me.
How do I answer that question, especially over the phone?
McKinney, TX