The Fog of Alzheimer’s

On January 11, 2006 Patricia Wood (my wife’s mother) passed away after a short illness. My wife had been in Maine since receiving the news that mother had been taken to the hospital. For two plus weeks she and her two sisters and brother were able to sit by the bedside and provide comfort, presence and some physical ministrations for their mother. 

Mother was a musician. She was a master pianist who could read any music, play any tune, play by ear, transpose to any key and all with no apparent effort. On occasion she would compose, arrange and perform her own music on the keyboard in real time. These times were own one time only, performance art. Her fingers were her paint brush. Sounds, flowing chords, changing tempos and a unique feel were her oils. When asked how her fingers flowed so delicately, even magically over the keys, producing such beautiful music she could only answer with an enigmatic smile, “I guess it’s a gift.” Her music was certainly a gift to her family, her church and finally her Alzheimer’s Unit.

Though music was her reality it changed during the course of the expanding fog. I’m not sure how to describe the change. Maybe it became more basic and simple. It certainly became less technical. What was slowly lost in the fog was the connection of tunes to their names, musical language and names of notes and chords. It was a little sad when she discovered that she could no longer look at a page of sheet music and play it. Even long loved songs could not be played while looking up at the page. But when she looked down at the keys she was fine. Where once I could ask mother to play a familiar tune in the key of “F,” later I could only ask her to “take it up” until we got to the right key. Where once I could ask for “What a Friend” later her daughter Sharon would have to start the tune on her violin before mother could make the connection.

In the last few years mother’s reality was crowded out by the fog of Alzheimer's. But her music continued. Long after she began to lose words she continued to play. Though her sentences became fragmented her music kept coming from deep within her. Even when her day to day decisions were in doubt she continued playing gospel songs. And when she could no longer drive or find her way home she could always find her way to the keyboard.