ATMOSPHERE - After three weeks of testing at the Mayo Clinic, my neurologist delivered the three words that would change my life forever: mild cognitive impairment (MCI). I knew I had been slipping — forgetting names of people, using reminders to function at work, and living in a constant fog of dizziness and headaches.
Still, I told myself, “I can handle this.” But then my neurologist dropped the other shoe. He told me that my condition was progressive and would only get worse. Having MCI means I’m at higher risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease or another type of dementia in the future.
Since my diagnosis a little over a year ago, the disease has indeed progressed. My life has changed considerably. Virtually overnight, I went from being in the prime of my legal career as a deputy state’s attorney to a retiree at age 59. Today, my days are spent differently. Instead of spending weekdays in court or preparing a case, I’ve been acclimating to a “new normal” and discovering new activities to give my life purpose.
My Days Start Earlier Than I Might Like
A typical day for me begins at approximately 3 a.m. There are days when I wake up at midnight, and sometimes I can sleep in to as late as 6 a.m., but usually by 3 a.m. my day has started. It’s not my preference, but my MCI didn’t bother to ask me.
I begin each morning by checking my calendar to see what the day has in store for me. This isn’t much different from when I was working, but now, on most days, the plans on my calendar are pretty basic: go to the store, mow the grass, or attend church. If it is not written down, I forget.
Next, I check my email and wait for the morning paper to arrive. I’ve always liked to read and love fiction, but these days novels are too complicated. That’s why I like to read the newspaper. The articles are short and concise.
How I Stay Organized and Don’t Lose Things
Any time I leave the house, the first thing I do when I return is place the keys in a cup by the door. I also place my wallet, phone, and watch next to the computer. Following this routine helps me keep track of my things. I have spent far too much time this past year going from room to room looking for lost items.
I depend on my wife, Marianne, more than ever. Without her, I don't know how I would function. If I forget something, she reminds me. If I misplace an item, she helps me find it. She knows when I am getting tired and tells me to take a nap. She is also retired and by my side often.
Finding New Hobbies and Friends
Prior to my diagnosis, I loved biking. Riding in the fresh air and getting my blood pumping was stimulating. My MCI, however, can make me dizzy. Today, I can only bike a few blocks and only on level ground. I constantly feel like I may fall over, and I’ve been right on more than one occasion.
I still like to watch movies, as long as the plot is not too involved. One positive aspect of the disease is that because I have a hard time remembering what I’ve watched, I can watch the same movie over and over, and it’s always new to me.
Social interaction remains important to me and I sing in a local choir for people with dementia called the Unforgettables. The choir meets weekly and I love the opportunity it provides to talk with other people who are living with the disease.
Above all, I treasure the time I spend with my wife and family. I have problems following a conversation after a while, but my family knows my limits and is understanding.
Finding a New Purpose in My ‘New Normal’
Following my diagnosis, I reached out to the Alzheimer’s Association. It provided me with information and resources, but it also gave me something even more important: an opportunity to share my story to help others living with dementia. I was selected to serve on its national Early-Stage Advisory Group. In my role, I speak at conferences and meetings across the country.
It takes a lot of energy and work to engage with others, but it gives my life and my “new normal” purpose. I am living proof that individuals with MCI, Alzheimer’s, or other dementias are still able to make a contribution to society. My diagnosis has been devastating, but I’ve learned that just because one door closes on you, it doesn’t mean you give up. There are many things that I can’t do anymore, but there are things I still can. It’s those things that I’m embracing.[EDH]