Oliver: At 7-year mark, Alzheimer’s disease continues to take its toll bit by bit

On this date seven years ago, Tony and I received news that changed our lives forever.

That’s the day we learned what was causing Tony’s short-term memory problems, why my husband of two decades was “off” sometimes.

We had hoped it was something simple, such as a vitamin deficiency

Sadly, it was the one thing I had been hoping against hope that it wasn’t. On Aug. 31, 2015, we learned Tony had early onset dementia – Alzheimer’s type.

Tony was 57 years old.

To get to this point, he had undergone tests and brain scans with a neurologist. He had gone to a neuropsychologist, who measured Tony’s reaction times and ability to solve problems.

The results had trickled in. We knew that there was some visible shrinkage in his brain. We knew his ability to solve problems was compromised, though at that point he still was functioning at the level of most adults, just not at the high level he would be if his brain was healthy.

Tony was still working, though he would soon retire. He was still driving. He was able to cook. He was able to work with me to take care of my elderly mother, who also had dementia.

We just didn’t know how long that would last. People with Alzheimer’s disease live an average of eight years after their diagnosis. Of course, most are not as young as my dear Tony.

In the beginning, my Tony was mostly himself. This horrible, progressive disease had only just begun to steal him away bit by bit.

In the years since, he has lost his ability to do many things.

Early on, we decided it was best he didn’t try to use a lawnmower or the snow blower.

Then it started taking longer for him to come back from going to the grocery store. Invariably, he would leave his phone at home so I couldn’t reach him to see what was going on.

One terrifying incident, for me at least, was when he went to buy bananas at a nearby grocery store. When he didn’t return in the expected amount of time, I jumped in my car to see if I could find him, fearing that he had gotten lost.

Turns out, he had gone to another grocery store in a nearby town because the bananas were better there. Only he didn’t let anyone know. He was surprised to see how relieved I was when he walked through the door.

A couple of years later, he no longer was comfortable driving, so he offered to stop on his own. By this point, he wasn’t driving by himself and always had me beside him. Still, he knew when it was time to turn in his keys.

Then came the phase of hiding things all over the house. He was particularly fond of hiding his socks, but he’s done that with his slippers, his coats, his dress shirts and his shoes. One time he relocated the cat’s pooper scooper. I was none too happy about where I found that.

One frustrating thing about Alzheimer’s disease is the decline is not linear. Tony will remember how to brush his teeth, the next day he will not, but the day after that he will handle it without incident.

Some days he’s happy to have my help; other days, he gets frustrated at the suggestion he might not be able to do a task himself.

In recent days, my usually amiable husband has entered the “belligerent” phase. This reminds me of what a woman whispered to me years ago: “Wait until he gets mean.” I suppose this is what she meant.

Through practice, prayer and a lot of deep breaths, I’ve learned tricks to get through the worst of it. Try as I might, it’s sometimes difficult to stay calm when he kicks his slipper across the room, hurls his T-shirt at my face and refuses to put on his shoes when we need to leave.

Yet, he’s still here. As hard as the past seven years have been, I’m happy we’re still together and there are pieces of him that remain.

He’s my best friend. That hasn’t changed.

• Joan Oliver is the former Northwest Herald assistant news editor. She has been associated with the Northwest Herald since 1990. She can be reached at jolivercolumn@gmail.com.