alzheimer « WordPress.com Tag Feed

Les vacances et ma tante

jacynthe — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 21:35:10 +0000

Comme chaque année je m’occupe de la maison de mes parents lorsqu’ils partent en vacance l’été. Je ne prends pas juste la responsabilité de la maison, mais celle de la tante à ma mère qui a 97 ans. Étant plus jeunes nous étions assez proches de cette tante.

Jusqu'à l’âge de 90 ans, elle habitait sa maison, mais elle avait de la difficulté avec son diabète et commençait à avoir des pertes de mémoire. Comme dans ma famille les seules personnes qu’elle aimait étaient mes parents alors ils ont pris la responsabilité de s’occuper de la tante. Nous avons dû la placer dans un foyer pour les personnes semi-autonomes. Plus les jours passaient plus elle avait de la difficulté. Le centre ou elle était ne s’occupaient pas bien d’elle et le CLSC a retrouvé une journée d’hiver ma tante dehors seule et seulement un jupon comme habit. Le soir quand mes parents sont arrivés du boulot et ont su ils ont fait des recherches pour une autre place de mieux.

Maintenant elle est dans un centre ou les employés sont des perles. J’y suis allée à quelques reprises, mais ma tante ne me reconnait plus. Des fois elle était fâchée de me voir, car pour elle j’étais rendue une intrue. Elle souffre d’Alzheimer et est rendue sur l’étage ou tout doit être barré. Le personnel est toujours là pour elle et dès qu’il y a quelque chose ils appellent mes parents. À tout les dimanches et des fois dans la semaine ils vont rendre visite à ma tante. Ils sont vraiment dévoués pour elle.

Bref pour revenir aux vacances quand mes parents quittent l’été je prends la responsabilité de ma tante. Le personnel me téléphone s’ils ont besoin. Hier soir pour ne pas oublier mes parents sont venus chez nous pour me donner tout les papiers au cas où pour ma tante. Tous les ans, ça me touche, car les papiers sont des papiers pour si jamais elle décède durant le départ à mes parents pour que je puisse m’occuper de tout le temps qu’ils reviennent en vitesse de leurs vacances.

Pas que nous voulons qu’elle meure, mais disons qu’elle serait mieux au ciel. Elle n’a plus de qualité de vie. Son mari est décédé lorsque j’étais bébé alors je ne l’ai pas connue. Sa fille est décédée a 46 ans alors plus personne autour d’elle. Là je ne parle même pas des maladies qu’elle a sans parler non plus que ne marche plus. Elle n’a plus rien. Tous les gens qu’elle aimait ne sont plus là. Mais bon j’espère juste que tout va bien se passer.

Hold me close and hold me fast: Reset, Remembered, Retold

Joie — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 18:25:32 +0000

Louis Armstrong - La Vie En Rose

[audio http://www.fileden.com/files/2008/6/20/1967807/02%20-%20Louis%20Armstrong%20-%20La%20Vie%20En%20Rose.mp3]

!!! SPOILERS AHEAD !!!

Amnesia has always been a narrative shortcut for dramatic effect, particularly one of suspense, inserted in the beginning of a film (as the plot mobilizes into a detective investigation of identity) or towards its very end (as a requisite hurtle before the sappy reunion). While Wall•E is no stranger to this rule, the film and its titular character do however share an uneasy relationship to the processes of remembrance and memorization, the twin halves of what we normally assign to as "memory."

Segwaying into Meg's post about the hazy "new order" between programmes and personalities, on the most basic level, Wall•E and the Gels aboard the Axiom are "humanized" exactly because they learn to replicate what they see and hear from stored cultural knowledge embodied by the Hello Dolly VHS and the computer's memory bank of our civilization before Earth was trashed. Humanity abides not to the laws of biology, but whether one possesses the mental capacity for acquiring and recalling information, followed by enacting it within a wholly contingent situation. Alanis was right: you live, you learn. If comedy is the result of miscommunication, then our laughs and sighs during Wall•E and Eve's initial courtship stem from watching signs of affection being misread and ignored by someone who's oblivious to their intentions. Eve has only one directive so far: to find the MacGuffin (seedling in a boot).

By the second act, everything slowly changes for both robots and humans alike, culminating in a sumptuous scene of emotional recognition by Eve of her own recorded memory, her POV video as surveillance footage. It's like watching your home movies 10 years from now and noticing details that escape your attention the first time around. Eve not only witnesses Wall•E's persistent dedication during her downtime, but the same identical scenes she experienced before, now in a radically different light. Walter Benjamin couldn't be more prescient about this triumphant moment of self-awareness through the unconscious mechanism of film: tapping into a realm where objects are more fleeting than concrete, visible only within the frame that hold its precious cargo of frozen moments, gone then, here forever.

Evidently a different nature opens itself to the camera than opens to the naked eye – if only because an unconsciously penetrated space is substituted for a space consciously explored by man...The act of reaching for a lighter or a spoon is familiar routine, yet we hardly know what really goes on between hand and metal, not to mention how this fluctuates with our moods. Here the camera intervenes with the resources of its lowerings and liftings, its interruptions and isolations, it extensions and accelerations, its enlargements and reductions.

Coincidentally, Benjamin's observation mirrors director Andrew Stanton's own attitude in hiring talented cinematographer, Roger Deakins, as a lighting consultant for recreating the photographic apparatus's penchant for flaws and blemishes, an absent trait in the world of animation, where imagination soars without limit, often without direction either.

We actually had a lot of stuff that wasn't correct in our software. The math wasn't doing the right thing, so all the subtle imperfections that you're used to, that you don't pay attention to that happen with the camera lens — the way things go distorted in the background, when they do it, how the plane of focus works, what things do in the foreground — all that was either slightly or majorly incorrect with our software, and had always been. I wanted to use the camera much more directly as a tool for intimacy in the film. I mean, I got a metal box falling in love with a metal box and a dystopian background, where am I going to get the intimacy? I'm going to use it with the camera by how shallow of a lens we use and how shallow the focus is, how narrow the lens is. So fixing all that and having Roger there to sort of confirm that we were in the right ballpark with it visually was just key to getting a lot of what comes, I think, unconsciously when you're watching the film.

Luckily enough we do not need a monitor screen to access our memory, but the film, being a work of science fiction, never treads away from articulating a future where scientific wonders afford the ability to prosthetize our mind from its body. Look up the Precogs from the grandmaster himself, PKD. Instead of being confined to a particular individual or even a localized site (the brain), memory as potential and kinetic energy is transferable and disperse, to be memorized, to be recalled, to be used again and again.

Eve fidgets with her hands as she reacts tearfully to the "It Only Takes a Moment" scene from Hello Dolly, echoing the same movement of yearning that Wall•E expressed, their behavior results from imitation, their hands gradually engraved with familiar reminiscence. Through this uncanny refraction by media itself are the two able to meet eye to eye, heart to heart. This is the stuff of remembrance, in which knowledge is retrieved in a manner that speaks beyond the level of barebone plots to byzantine associations worthy of prophecies and elegies, where meaning seeks confusion as an equal adversary.

When we finally reached the final act, the threat of amnesia leaves Wall•E in a state far worse than death itself, bereft of soul and spirit. Reading the weekend testimonies, men and women, young and old wept when Wall•E reverted back to his automated self; saving him from deletion inadvertently made the adorable spunky cube into a flat square, a shell of wires and silicon chips. Of course, this also happens to be the moment when the film succumbs to the cheap miracles of resuscitation by the 'Snow White' kiss (in this case, a spark of electricity), one can only eye-roll the numerous times Matrix got through that ordeal unscathed from fanboys booing at the incredulous act of faith performed by Trinity to the dying Neo. But I guess that film was an allegory of religion or something, I prefer its simpler elements: leather, bullet time, and Keanu. Most people subscribes to what Richard Corliss recently stated in his appraisal of Wanted that fantasy films work because of a built-in motor aptly called "movie sense" in contrast to the scriptures of our common sense.

This answer may be sufficient for most audience members leaving the theater, but I think Wall•E already has its own built-in logic for this unexplainable feat of life after coma. Recall that the film returns incessantly to a pair of hands in dire search of its righty and lefty, and that the explicit origin of this romantic desire comes from a fragment of an 1960s Hollywood musical. Despite of its revamped setup, the indirect reference that director Andrew Stanton, the know-it-all movie magpie, wants the smarter kids out there to think about is Chaplin's City Lights. Joe Morgenstern beat me to the chase, but I'll have my revenge soon. For a more nuanced study of physical comedy's legacy of jesters and simpletons (Wall•E has a vast family tree), look for the related post from Keaton. In the 1931 silent film comedy, the tramp falls in love with a blind flower girl, he finds money for her surgery but lands himself in the slammer. With her sight restored along with a new flowershop, she gives the downtrodden tramp a flower, only realizing when their hands touched that he was her mysterious benefactor. She utters, "I can see now," and these final words of the film verbally substitutes for the inexpressible warmth of their third skin, a crossroads of caresses between forgotten soulmates. Stanton gleefully simulates this classic scene by dividing it temporally and spatially (and gender reversal!), first with Eve's metaphoric blindness, then at the end, with Wall•E's amnesia as mechanical blindness, both overcome by the power of touch, of hands enmeshed into one, holding its own form of material memory. In short, a love conquers all ending that isn't a deux ex machina, it's all there, like bread crumbs leading up to the satisfying payoff.

What's truly delightful and moving about Wall•E's intricate layering and retracing of past relics with present crises is the sentimental grasp it has over the viewer, paralyzing us to believe fully in the utopian dimension of the film, and I'm not referring to the optimistic epilogue, but rather how memory is fluidly passed on from human to robot, robot to robot, and on a metalevel, old media to new media, almost to the point of near indistinguishable. Yesterday's mass culture is today's national treasure. So much of the film, of form and content, relies on the fetish of live action by animation, the meticulous rendering of digital bits into its analog reality, and with that, comes the possibility of actual affect through special effects. What Wall•E hopes we remember after another 700 years is that it too was a special time capsule, a host of cultural history and emotional relevancy, waiting to be imitated by a new classic far far away.

P.S. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that I wasn't re-viewing the tragic fates befalling on our star-crossed lovers, it would've be relentlessly cruel for Stanton to end on the lingering mood of The Notebook or A Very Long Engagement. Rated G for happily ever after.

Alzheimer 'R' Us in The Notebook

Can one forget what pain is?

photon — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 16:39:28 +0000

Can one forget what is sleeping or standing or sitting?

Can one forget what eating is?

Can one forget one's own children?

Can one forget what pain is?

The answer to all the questions is a big YES. These are the most disturbing effects of one of the most feared diseases that afflicts a person in their old age : The Alzheimer's Disease.

My nani (maternal grandma) has started showing the signs of the disease and the worst part is its incurable. I mean, yesterday I went to visit her and I got very pathetic blank looks from her. Not that she meant those looks, i.e. when mom asked her " Ki dekcho Maa ? " ( What are you looking at mother?) she simply replied " Kichu na to, kichu dekchi na to " ( Nothing, am looking at nothing), and the reply was barely audible or for that matter intelligible. It really hurt to see this.

AD is a degenerative terminal disease of the brain. It mostly comes to people who are over 65 yrs of age ( my grandma is 75) but it is seen in ages much lower than this too ( as shown in the bollywood film U Me aur Hum ). But till date the scientists have been unable to get to the reason behind this ailment. Yeah they do say its about the destruction of the plaques and tangles of the brain but they don't know it for sure till date. Even the activities suggested to prevent of the disease are not too effective ( mental activities and healty food is suggested by the way).

I hope it all becomes Ok and she doesn't reach that stage which many a people say that she will ; the stage when one cant recognise anyone and wont to be able to speak; the stage when one wont be able to remember what sleeping is; the stage when one becomes unable to tell what pain is.

Filmtipp: Das Rätsel Alzheimer - Der Kampf gegen die Vergesslichkeit

Heike — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 12:23:47 +0000

In der WDR Dokumentation wird eine Untersuchung um das "Alzheimer-Rätsel" geschildert.
Es war ein ungewöhnliches Experiment, dem sich die Ordensschwestern von Notre Dame in Mankato im US-Bundesstaat Minnesota 1991 einverstanden erklärten.

Der Altersforscher David Snowdon testete die älteren Nonnen regelmäßig und durfte nach ihrem Tod ihre Gehirne im Labor untersuchen.

Dabei machte er und sein Team eine Entdeckung, die Zweifel an den bisherigen Erkenntnissen der Medizin in Bezug auf die Alzheimer-Erkrankung weckt.

Auf der Grundlage seiner Ergebnisse wollte er wissen, ob Menschen, die regelmäßig entzündungshemmende Mittel, wie Ibuprofen einnehmen, weniger Alzheimer haben. Seine Umfrage bei Fachärzten ergab, dass es so gut wie keine Rheumakranken mit Alzheimer gibt.

Dies sei zwar keine wissenschaftlich stichhaltige Studie, aber nach Ansicht von Snowdon gäbe diese Erkenntnis durchaus Anlass über einen Zusammenhang nachzudenken.
Doch wirklich nachdenklich wird man nach seinem Hinweis, dass er keine Gelder für eine fundierte Studie auftreiben konnte.
Dagegen werden Forschungen zur Entwicklung (teurer) Impfstoffe gegen Alzheimer von der Pharmaindustrie finanziert.

Der Dokumentarfilm "Das Rätsel Alzheimer - Der Kampf gegen die Vergesslichkeit" läuft heute, 30.06.08 um 22:00 Uhr im WDR-Fernsehen.

Sorg som trycker inuti

siggeistaden — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 14:36:58 +0000

Igår satt jag på jobbet med ångest. Utåt kunde man säkert ingenting se. Inne i mig bubblade ångesten. Jag använde ett brev till en kompis som Konsultens Pysventil:

"Hej Magali,
Är på jobbet och är ganska trött. Stor klump i halsen/bröstkorgen. Som tur är behöver jag inte generera extrakrafter till att leda grupper eller ens enstaka kunder, mer än ett återkopplingssamtal på telefon en halvtimme i eftermiddag. De har ju gått så pass okej hittills så att det känns överkomligt. Bra med något som låter mig behålla skärpan ialla fall. Vilken tur att jag inte har en uppsats att skriva. Skulle ha varit förödande att må på detta viset förra sommaren.

Efter att två dagar i rad briserat som ett koleriskt nervknippe i sammanhang som varit riskfyllda vad gäller krav på omgivningens förståelse har jag börjat fatta att jag är och har varit under psykisk anspänning. Genom att utbrista i vrede bland folk åsamkar jag inte bara dem smärta, jag gör främst mig själv illa. Tror nog att jag har koll på det nu. Nu fattar jag att jag har ett tryck inifrån. Igår hade jag ett så härligt samtal med Sigrid Anna. Vi gick direkt in på det som hade hänt dagen innan i konferensrummet. Ja, vad var det som hände? Sen så var det så skönt att det var HON som tog upp det med min mamma, jag har pratat om henne förut, vid någon lunch o så. Den bestämda och petiga Sigrid Anna kliver in i psykoterapeutrollen och visar sin förmåga att knyta ihop, se bakom och förstå. Det behövde jag verkligen. Det var Hon som sa, inte jag, att jag bara som ensamstående lever under konstant ansvarstagande. Ja, och även om jag inte känner av det när det går bra så är behovet av att fungera och greja och fixa så stort att jag fortsätter med det och låter bli att känna efter. Tänker jag nu.
Sigrid Anna tyckte också att det som var temat i konferensrummet och som hade gjort att det brast för mig var att jag inte uppfattade att jag blev lyssnad på. Och hon tyckte det var viktigt att kolla om det var så jag känt här förut. Och nej, så är det inte. Men hon menade att det låg bakom det här med min mamma. Min mamma försvinner mer och mer in i sina Alzheimerhallucinationer och ser mig inte längre, lyssnar inte och finns inte där längre som någon som kan ta emot och bekräfta. Den parallellen har jag inte tänkt på. Och min släkting som skällde på mig för att jag åkt utomlands med Volle istället för hem till päronen... som verkligen inte heller kunnat se mig i situationen. Bara sig. Iaf just då.

Så går jag då från jobbet lättad över att man får vara lite labil och sätter genast igång med en scen med Volles kompisars föräldrar...ännu farligare mark. Jag uppfattar att de garvar åt stackars simläraren. Och jag har tidigare varit med om att gå starkt igång på mobbningssituationer. Ibland ser jag dem när inte andra ser. Slutsatsen igår blev att allt handlade om min mammas Alzheimer. Jag tänker inte gå i strid med människor som har starka principer om rätt och fel och anser sig för det mesta göra rätt och har därmed alltid starka argument för sitt agerande. Jag förlorar genast gentemot barnensbästa-argument. Där har jag intet att tillföra. Därför kan jag inte bli politiker. Det är först när folk är öppna för att lyssna som jag har något att komma med. Annars är det bara att nicka och hålla tyst. Jag tänker idag att ja, så klart fanns det en strimma av något som triggade mig. Sen så övertolkade jag helt klart. För det var inget egentligen som hände. Inte av den kalibern jag föreställde mig.

Och än sen då? Whts the Big Deal? Ältaältaält.
Dessa utbrott har iaf fått mig att fatta. Jag känner sorg för att mamma förvandlats till en babblande grönsak. Och sorg och förlust triggar sorgen över andra förluster. Jag kan sakna Fabian ibland. Kommer alltid att göra. (Delar av honom, det vi hade gemensamt). Definitivt att jag känner sorg över hans livsöde. Inte mammas på samma sätt. Visst, hon har levt ett liv med begränsningar. Men så är det väl med många. Alla måste vi hitta rätt bland friheter och begränsningar. Jag får släppa ansvaret för mammas val. De är hennes. Hon har nog inte varit helt olycklig. Det är heller inte ett tragiskt levnadsöde på samma sätt som Fabians som bara levde ett halvt liv. 35 blev han. Faktiskt bara.

Men det här som finns bakom ögonen och i halsen och i bröstkorgen, det är ett tryck som jag inte vet vad jag ska göra med. Acceptera säger psykologer kanske. Ja...och mera? Känna på det? Hur? När? Det här trycket minns jag att jag hade i bröstet när jag åkte till Sicilien med Volle strax efter att Fabian försvunnit i havet. Vi åkte ner i december 2001. Och antagligen första terminen på universitetet. Jag gjorde det jag skulle, men med något tungt som krävde energi hela tiden ovanpå allt det andra. Det kommer att släppa. I stunder. Och på sikt. För att komma tillbaka och hälsa på andra gånger.

Nu måste jag gå. Jag har återkopplingssamtal och ska vara fokuserad på andra människor med andra liv alldeles om en stund.

KRAM"

Cientistas identificam gene relacionado ao mal de Alzheimer

baixarjogos — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 18:29:12 +0000

Um grupo de cientistas americanos e franceses identificou um gene que poderia aumentar os riscos de uma pessoa desenvolver o mal de Alzheimer, informou hoje a revista "Cell".

Leia a matéria na íntegra no Tudo Agora Notícias

UPDATES, UPDATES, UPDATES!!! - I GOTTA DO BETTER

msjboogie — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 07:49:13 +0000

OK, I haven't posted in more than six months! Why so long? Because I'm a procrastinator. I keep saying I don't have time, yada, yada, yada. And then there are those drafts saved all over the place. I've got drafts of posts concerning everything from Reverend Wright to Don Imus to book reviews. The judge I clerked for right after law school used to tell me that making something perfect wasn't as important as getting it done on a timely basis; that all my hard work and pursuit of perfection meant nothing if my work was still late. So, rather than sitting down to write the perfect blog entry,I decided to be like Nike and "Just do it!" So much has happened since the last time I posted. For instance:

1) On Christmas Eve, my neighbors called me at work to tell me granny called 911 and told them she saw dead people on the floor and smelled smoke. Several squad cars and ambulances pulled up, only to find an elderly little lady who couldn't find her keys. When the cops broke the lock on the gate and discovered that there were no dead people or smoke, they decided it was time for her to go on a special little trip to the psych ward. Granny ended up spending two weeks, including Christmas and New Years, in a geriatric psychiatric ward. During the first week, I told her she was at a retreat for elderly people. That worked pretty well until the meds started to wear off some and her psychosis calmed down a bit. Then she got all rational on me. While sitting in the hospital's dining room one day, she leaned back and crossed her arms and legs, laughed and said to me, "Now look at that man there. He's crazy. He keeps walking back and forth all day long. Wait, just sit here and watch him." I didn't have the heart to tell granny she had a bad case of "the pot calling the kettle black."

Granny is one smart cookie, and will inject logic in ways that leave you shaking your head and wondering what just happened. After she came home, we followed up with a psychotherapist. When the psychotherapist asked her whether she'd come back to speak with the psychiatrist, granny answered, "No I'm not coming back cus I'm not crazy. If I came back, that would mean I was admitting I'm crazy." Granny did have a pretty good point.

This Christmas and New Years were the absolute worst in my life. Granny and I had never been separated during the holidays. She wasn't even coherent enough on Christmas to have a conversation or bathe herself. I was a sniveling, crying mess because I didn't know what would happen to her, when she'd be coming home, and I knew that she must be so afraid. My neighbors said she started to cry when she realized the paramedics were taking her to the hospital. She spent 3 days in the psychiatric ER because it was the holidays and no beds were available in psych ward. Visitors aren't allowed in the psychiatric ER, so I called there every hour and spoke with granny. I called so much that she just parked herself by the phone and all the other patients kept an eye on her. One patient even told me that the nurses were ignoring her. She began crying on the telephone, "J, I'm hungry. Can you bring me some food?" The nurses received a friendly call from me, especially considering the fact that they had given her medications. Where do these people get their licenses?

During another conversation, granny said to me in a groggy voice with slurred speech, "J, how come you haven’t called me? How come you didn't call me?"
She didn't remember our prior conversations. But, I kept copious notes every time we spoke, noting the date, time, what we talked about and how she sounded. So, I simply rattled off the times from my notes.
"Oh." she answered. At least she knew I was working on trying to break her out of "jail."

When I got off the phone, I broke down again. Poor baby didn't know where she was, that it was Christmas or that we had spoken several times that day. Then she told me stories about her lawyer coming up to the hospital. Yea, granny was out of it and truly thought she was in jail.

Six months later, granny's still upset about having been taken away involuntarily. She believes the invisible people conspired to have her put in jail and that the police overreacted. I've tried to get her to understand why her complaints about dead people on her floor and smelling smoke might have alarmed the cops. She says she was misunderstood and that the invisible people were the ones who called the cops. Righhhhht granny. One day at a time.

2) After a battery of tests, granny was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I'm not sure I buy that diagnosis, but we'll take it one day at a time.

3) The invisible people still live with us. Granny fusses at them about invading her space and not paying rent, and she occasionally hits them with her cane or other flying objects. I, on the other hand, have learned to peacefully co-exist with her and the invisible people.

4) Granny now has a home attendant 7 days a week.

5) Granny and I frequently review the "don't you dare call 911 or else the po po is gonna come take you away from me again" rule. She agrees with that rule. Instead, she wants to call some random detective and other government agencies. One day at a time.

6) Granny has regained some ability to cook. She has her good and bad days. Granny threw down tonight, while I supervised. On my way home, she asked me whether I wanted her to take anything out for me to cook. I told her to season the lamb chops for me.
"Oh, I'm the seasoner huh?" she asked.
"That's right. You're the designated season lady!"
Granny's a good seasoner. Granny made squash, candied yams, and fried chicken. I made the rice and the lamb chops.

7) Granny served a brief stint as a babysitter since coming home from the hospital in January. I'll have to keep my eye on that little girl. I think she's trying to steal my granny, and I've already told her on several prior occasions to get her own granny. I don't care how cute and sweet granny is. She's mine. Granny used to have foster kids when I was little. She says that I used to tell the foster kids, "I'll be glad when yall leave so I can have my granny to myself!" Some things never change!

8) Granny celebrated her 71st birthday this year!!!! Wooo hooo! I threw her a small birthday party. We had 3 friends over. I cooked, bought a birthday cake, ice cream, balloons, party favors and made everyone wear a birthday hat. We took plenty of pictures, granny opened her presents, and even gave a "Thank You" speech. She does one hell of a Forrest Gump impression - and I don't even think she meant to impersonate him! We had a great time, although she frequently got up to chase the invisible people out of her bedroom, and went to see what was on TV.
"Granny, stop being rude to your guests! You can't watch TV while everyone else is having a party."
Apparently, I was the irrational inflexible one in the conversation. She responded, "I'm not being rude. Yall should come in here with me!" I wanted to give her a good birthday and make her feel special. I think I succeeded. She kept those balloons up for a couple of months and told all her home attendants about her birthday party.

GREATEST LESSONS LEARNED THIS YEAR:
1) The power and value of wonderful friends. My neighbors, and several of my friends and granny's friends have been phenomenal and supportive. I may not see them everyday, but they have made life and dealing with my granny so much easier.

2) I'm stronger than I ever thought I was. We have an amazing ability to adapt. Adaptability and being able to just roll with the flow is what helps up to survive even the most trying times in our lives. My granny taught me that!

3) Love like you'll never see someone again. "It is sheer good fortune to miss somebody long before they leave you." Sula by Toni Morrison

MID-YEAR'S RESOLUTION: To post to my blog at least once a week! My last mid-year's resolution was to only read one book at a time. That didn't work out too well, but one can at least hope for the best!

More to come soon!!!!

Ayer murió mi abuelo

mortero — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 01:52:09 +0000

Ayer murió mi abuelo Pedro. Es extraño, pero siento que estaba muerto, aunque todavía vivo, desde hacía más de un año. La enfermedad de Alzheimer es horrible. Poco a poco se fue olvidando de todo, hasta de si mismo. A mi abuela la confundía con su madre, que a penas conoció porque fue criado por su propia abuela. A mi madre, su hija, la llamaba su hermana, cosa rara porque fue hijo único. A mis dos hijos los conoció primero por foto, cuando todavía podía saber que eran sus bisnietos. Se pasó sus últimos días mirando las fotos que le mandé de Marcos y Sebastián, diciéndole a mi abuela que esos dos de encima de la mesa no paraban de reírse ¿se estarán riendo de mí estos zagales? Cuando los conoció por fin, esta pasada Navidad, ya no sabía quien eran. Vivir sin recuerdos es peor que estar muerto.

Ahora que pasó a otra vida ¿habrá recuperado la memoria? Que bonito tiene que ser, después de muerto, volver a recordar todo aquello que habías olvidado. Algo parecido nos pasa cuando despertamos desorientados por una pesadilla y no sabemos distinguir la realidad del sueño. Al cabo de unos minutos sentimos un alivio al recordar que nuestra vida es real, y la pesadilla, solo fue eso, un mal sueño. Mi abuelo pasó el domingo quejándose, ya casi no podía respirar. Quizá a través de sus gritos impotentes nos quiso decir que quería morir para poder recobrar la memoria. Quizá gritaba los goles de España y quiso morir a tiempo para vivir el partido del jueves, y si con suerte se gana y más allá también se sale con suerte de la final, al menos mi abuelo nunca lo olvidará porque lo vivió, aunque sea ya muerto, pero entre nosotros. Mi abuelo ya no está vivo y desmemoriado, ahora está muerto pero sabe de nuevo quien somos. Para mí eso vale más que la carne y los huesos. Mi abuelo Pedro ya no vive en el olvido, mejor aún, una vez muerte vivirá para siempre en nuestro recuerdo, y nosotros en el suyo.

Alzheimer più probabile per i depressi

stevenworldnow — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 05:16:37 +0000

Attenzione all'Alzheimer. Secondo uno studio olandese e uno americano, chi ha sofferto D depressione ha due volte e mezzo più probabilità degli altri D contrarre il morbo.
Tuttavia, i ricercatori olandesi, hanno precisato che sono necessarie altre ricerche per comprendere appieno il legame tra la malattia D Alzheimer e la depressione: "Non sappiamo ancora se la depressione contribuisce allo sviluppo dell'Alzheimer - hanno confessato - o se un altro fattore sconosciuto causi sia la depressione che la demenza senile." Dal canto loro, gli scienziati americani sottolineano comunque che la depressione è un fattore D rischio per l'Alzheimer ma non un sintomo precoce del morbo.
In altre parole, non tutti i depressi si ammaleranno. Insomma, ancorché non definitivi, i risultati aiuteranno comunque a capire D più i meccanismi del morbo e creare nuove prospettive D ricerca.

Articolo pubblicato sul quotidiano "City" in data 9 Aprile 2008.

'alzheimer expres'

izuzu — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 21:35:14 +0000

DELFT - In een gesloten afdeling van een verpleeghuis zitten en toch zelfstandig een reisje met de trein maken. Dat kan in De Bieslandhof in Delft dankzij het Kunstwerk De Coupé van Lino Hellings en Yvonne Dröge Wendel. - door Thea Detiger - De Telegraaf, vrijdag 20 juni 2008
Demente bewoners, die voorheen onrustig bij de afgesloten deur stonden omdat ze naar buiten wilden, schuifelen nu vrolijk naar de comfortabele reisfauteuils, die in formatie zijn opgesteld in de gang. Onder het monotone geluid van een trein die over de rails zoeft en kijkend naar de projectie van een voorbijschietend Noord-Hollands landschap, brengen de veelal psychogeriatrische bewoners vaak uren door in De Coupé. Het personeel komt langs met koffie en thee en soms zelfs de warme maaltijd.

Kunstwerk
"Toen het zorgcentrum met het verzoek voor een kunstwerk kwam, dachten we eigenlijk aan iets stimulerends. Iets met kleuren, beweging of licht, waarbij we verborgen talenten naar buiten zouden halen en mensen tot activiteit konden aanzetten", zegt Yvonne Dröge Wendel, die als kunstenares verbonden is aan SKOR (Stichting Kunst en Openbare Ruimte) in Amsterdam. "Maar uit intensieve workshops met de bewoners, waarin we hen in hun omgeving konden observeren, bleek dat ze daar helemaal geen behoefte aan hadden.

Ze wilden juist rust en het recht op 'nietsdoen'. Waar ze naar verlangden was een aangename passiviteit." Samen met haar lerares Lino Hellings, die van huis uit sociologe is en één van de oprichtsters was van de Dogtroep, zocht Yvonne net zo lang tot ze op het idee van de trein kwamen. "Aanvankelijk hadden we in binnen- en buitenland films gemaakt om op de beeldschermen in de vorm van ramen te vertonen. Maar van sneeuw en bergen en allerlei herkenningspunten, die steeds terugkwamen, raakten de bewoners de kluts kwijt.

Deze mensen worden de hele dag al gestimuleerd met herinneringen aan het verleden. Ze hebben aldoor het gevoel dat ze iets moeten kunnen herkennen en interpreteren. Daarom laten wij nu in de trein een vrij monotoon polderlandschap zien met 80 procent lucht en 20 procent weilanden. De enige onderbreking vormen bomen, die even een schaduw werpen."

Legitimatie
Voor De Coupé kochten de kunstenaressen de meest luxueuze treinstoelen, maar ze lieten ze wel bekleden met een rustige groengrijze stof. Hoewel de bewoners zich wel degelijk bewust zijn dat ze niet echt op reis zijn, zijn ze dol op hún trein. Er in zitten geeft hun een legitimatie om niets te hoeven doen. Net zo goed als het bezoek zich in de trein niet verplicht voelt steeds te praten.

"De stoelen staan met opzet achter elkaar. Aan de ene kant hebben we tweemaal twee stoelen naast elkaar, aan de andere kant twee aparte stoelen achter elkaar", zegt Yvonne. " Bezoekers die zwijgend naast hun vader of moeder in de trein zitten, voelen zich minder opgelaten dan wanneer ze tegenover elkaar in de huiskamer zitten. De trein heeft een paar vaste passagiers die er elke dag zitten. Maar het personeel zit er 's avonds ook graag en kinderen vinden het helemaal geweldig."

De stappen die tot De Coupé hebben geleid zijn te zien op www.bies.nu.

Una sociedad sin excluidos

socialistesmorella — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 09:08:52 +0000

por Ximo Puig Ferrer

La puesta en marcha de la ley de la dependencia es un hito en la consolidación del estado del bienestar entre nosotros. Probablemente en el futuro será recordada esta acción del gobierno Zapatero mucho más que otras cuestiones más efectistas pero mayormente coyunturales.

Los gobiernos desde una visión progresista tienen la obligación de cohesionar socialmente para que nadie quede al margen. Los valores que procuran la protección de los más débiles sufren con cierta insistencia los ataques despiadados de quienes defienden un individualismo enmarcado en un elogio de la única responsabilidad personal que te hace vivir prósperamente o en la marginación.

Sin duda, nadie puede huir de su responsabilidad pero un país socialmente avanzado como el nuestro debe tener capacidad de respuesta a la desgracia de seres humanos como cualquiera de nosotros que han tenido peor suerte.

Encoge el corazón pensar en el grave incidente producido hace unos días en la plaza Maria Agustina. Un acto de desesperación extrema en un mundo que a veces hace oídos sordos al sufrimiento. La red de servicios sociales que en los últimos años el gobierno de la Generalitat ha empobrecido por la falta de apoyo a los ayuntamientos, es una prioridad no sólo por humanidad - ya sería suficiente - sino también por cuestiones de estabilidad en el entorno económico. Un país con protección social es un país mejor preparado para afrontar los desafíos del futuro.

El proceso de implantación de la ley de la dependencia que va a significar la consolidación de un nuevo pilar social en el estado del bienestar, está demasiado ralentizada en esta comunidad. Pasados ya nueve meses prácticamente aún no hay ningún solo valenciano que ya esté en plena disposición de acogerse al nuevo derecho porque las valoraciones que ha de poner en marcha el gobierno autónomo van con una lentitud desesperante.

El viernes se celebrará el dia mundial sobre el Alzheimer. Una enfermedad que crece exponencialmente, que nos destruye como personas, que inunda de tristeza de dolor y de angustia a las familias que ven como en un cuerpo tan conocido como estimado habita una persona desconocida.

El dolor no se puede evadir. La conciencia de ir perdiendo poco a poco a un ser querido es un tránsito tan amargo como intransferible. Pero esta sociedad moderna, progresista, avanzada sí que debe procurar instrumentos para ayudar a las familias en estas situaciones que con el mayor desarrollo y el incremento de la esperanza de vida, crecen en gran medida.

Me gustaría sentirme orgulloso de un pequeño país, grande en solidaridad y capacidad para compartir.

Buena semana y suerte.

What You Bring Back (Short Story)

ruzkin — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 13:00:03 +0000

Hey all - a new short story for you. This is going off for submission in a few days, so catch it while you can. Any last minute advice you have would be fantastic - I have 7 days to improve this, and I appreciate every crit provided.

They argued for hours; Andrew growing louder and louder as he paced circles around the kitchen table; Bill, his father, never shouting, mug clasped tight in knurled arthritic fingers, steam wreathing through what patches remained of his beard. He sat at the head of the table and spoke slowly, and sipped his coffee until it went cold. His answer was always no.

Andrew left, jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. Fran waited in the café across the road. He ordered an ice tea and sucked on a cigarette held between trembling fingers.

“He won’t go,” he said.

Fran lit her own from the tip of his Marlboro. “You showed Bill the photos?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a nice home.”

“Yeah.”

“Private nurses, even.”

He shook his head. “He didn’t care. He wants Susanne or nobody.”

“Does he know she’s dead?”

He fell silent a moment, then took a final drag and crushed the cigarette to death in the ashtray. “Sometimes he's on, sometimes he’s off. Alzheimers is weird like that.”

“Well.” She jangled the car keys. “He’ll come around. Maybe take him on a tour of the home? He’ll see how nice it is. A room to himself and everything.”

“Maybe.” Andrew looked up at the fourth floor apartment. The curtains were drawn tight. Somewhere behind them his father was sitting and seething; probably relabelling the cupboards or sorting spoons. Anything to keep his mind on track.

“Did you leave your number?”

He nodded. “Stuck it up next to the kettle.”

“Maybe you should leave a photo, too.”

His fingers clenched into a fist, and he reached to snatch her Marlboro. He breathed in, let it swirl in his lungs, and remembered the flicker of recognition in his father’s eyes as he’d opened the door. How long until even that was gone?

“Yeah,” he said, and stuttered out a sigh.

Andrew called his father every day at five.

“How you doing, Dad?”

“Same as yesterday.”

“Remembering to eat?”

“What, do you think I’m senile?”

Sometimes Bill hung up first, and Andrew was always secretly relieved. His father always sounded annoyed, as if he’d been in the middle of something important when the phone rang. But what was there for him to do besides the crossword? The last of his police pension was gone, squandered on a world cruise for retirees and geriatrics. A last chance to see the world before he left it. All he had now was photo albums and all the hours of the day.

“Go visit,” said Fran. “He’s probably lonely. And he’s your father.” He wanted to protest, but such fights only ever ended in grovelled apologies. He took the train.

The door was ajar when he arrived. “Dad?” He nudged it open. The carpet was strewn with socks and books piled knee high, and the air was so thick with roast coffee he could taste it. The curtains were drawn suffocatingly tight.

Bill stood in the kitchen, watching his meal spin in the microwave. He looked up. “Oh,” he said, sullen. “Why the visit?”

They sat together on the couch. Dust rose in fine clouds from the cushions. “You doing well?” asked Andrew.

“Well enough.” Bill pushed his glasses up on his nose, thick bifocals. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

“I’m sure you’re doing fine.”

“It’s not,” he said again. “Got to keep the mind active. That’s all. I do the cryptics.”

“Mm,” said Andrew, doing his best not to stare at Bill’s paunch, his thinning hair. Instead he looked at the photographs hung in gilded frames above his father’s head. A line of llamas ascending a mountain trail, the peaks tipped with crystalline Andean snow. In another, a dark skinned guide pointing out the blur of a Jaguarundi vanishing into dappled ferns. In another, the husk of a leaf-cutter ant clinging to a branch, body consumed from the inside by fungus that burst from the corpse in long finger-tendrils.

He tried to imagine his father climbing a mountain now and almost laughed, even though it tasted bitter. Three months changed so much.

“You need to get out of the house.” He nodded towards the curtains. “This isn’t healthy. Go see a movie.”

“Eh. Cinema. Restaurants. That was Susanne’s thing.”

“It was.” He paused, hesitant. “And she’s dead now.”

“Of course she’s dead!” His father’s eyes turned cold. “You think I’d forget that? I watched her drown.” He set his coffee mug down. “You don’t always got to call me. I’m not gone up there. Not yet.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to drag you down.”

Andrew wanted to snap, say “Too damn late,” but he stilled his tongue. Instead he reached out, touched his father on the back of his hand. His skin was cold and slick. “Dad. I love you.”

Bill pulled away. “I know. Get out of here. Go spend some time with your girlfriend. Whats-her-name.”

“Fran.” Andrew stood and kicked socks out of the way as he walked to the door. “My wife.”

As he walked down the stairs he heard keys jingle in the lock and the dull click of the bolt sliding home.

The daily calls got shorter and Bill grew quieter, until his voice was nearly lost in the static crackle. “I’m not an invalid,” he said one night. “Stop treating me like I am.” He hung up, and Andrew wrung the receiver in both hands like it was a living thing.

At night he curled up beside Fan and chewed the inside of his lip ragged. Fran saw the spots of blood in the morning, little red flecks on the pillowcase. “Andrew Harrigan,” she said. “You need to see a doctor.”

“It’s just nerves.”

“Dad?”

“Who else.”

“Mm.” She patted him on the cheek. “See the doc. Hell, take Bill to the doc. He probably needs it.”

“Only if he makes house calls. I can’t drag him outside.”

“Well,” said Fran. “Maybe I can. Bill always liked me.”

They arrived just past lunch as the growl of traffic began to die. This time the door was shut and locked. Andrew knocked and waited, and as his watch ticked off the seconds a twisting guilt awoke in his gut. How much was there left for his father, without Susanne? Would it be so bad if Bill never answered?

Then a click of tumblers, and Bill peered out from the crack. “Oh!” he said, with a Cheshire grin. “It’s been a while. And you brought a nurse!”

Fran and Andrew tidied while Bill rummaged through the kitchen, spooning instant coffee into mugs. The apartment stank of sweat, and specks of mildew eddied through the air. “Dad,” said Andrew. “You thought of giving this place a clean?”

“Sometimes,” he replied. “But it gets away from me.” He was wearing a tie and burgundy suit jacket buttoned tight over his belly. It took Andrew a minute to recognise the crest on the jacket breast; it was his father’s old school uniform.

“Been getting out? Seeing the old buddies?”

Bill looked confused for a moment, then shook his head. “What would they want with me?” He sighed, and phlegm rattled in his chest. “I’m an old weight now. And I’d just get embarrassed. Their faces… I know their faces. Not the names, so much.”

There was a sour stink coming from the garbage. Fran lifted the lid and recoiled. “It’s rotten. Bill, when was the last time you took the garbage out?”

“A while.” He shrank down into his suit. “It gets away. Things are right there sometimes but I don’t see.”

Andrew took his father’s hand. It trembled in his. “It’s hard to sleep,” Bill said. “Sometimes I wake up in the night but there’s nobody there. I keep thinking it’s Susanne. Sometimes I wake up in the kitchen.”

“You need a carer.”

“No.” He jerked his hand back. “You think it’s fun, when your son tells you to give up? I’m still working. Up there.” He tapped his head. “I can still do things. Take photos. I took those.”

The glass of the hanging frames was thick with dust, and he smeared them clean with his palm. Behind the filth was the sleek beauty of the Jaguarundi, the ruin of the leaf-cutter ant. “See that one, the ant? It eats their brain first. Drives them crazy. They climb as high as they can and then it grows out of them. Huan told me that. The guide. We drank pisco together.”

Andrew tried to smile. “Was it nice?”

His father’s expression sank. “It must have been. Otherwise I wouldn’t have drunk it. Yes. It was nice.” He tapped the first photo. “The snow, too. You see that? Wasn’t like the snow here. Tasted cleaner. You know what we did? Melted it and drank it. Like communion. You still go to church? Or do the girls steal all your time? Girls, girls, girls, always. Always.”

Andrew looked from his father to Fran. She shook her head. There was disappointment in her eyes, but whether it was meant for him or his father he couldn’t tell. Then back to Bill, who stared at his feet, lips barely moving as he mumbled. Was he even making noise? He couldn’t tell.

A migraine was beginning, bright and sharp behind his eyes. “I want you to go to the doc.”

“No.”

“Then I want you to go to a home.”

“No.” Bill’s eyes were dark and furious. “You can’t make me.”

“Fine.” Andrew rubbed his forehead. The headache was promising to be an all-nighter. “Then I’ll bring the doc to you.”

Two calls. First, the family doctor. “Mr Harrigan?”

Andrew imagined the doc on the other end of the line; a skeletal man, a biro behind his ear, eyeglasses flashing like silver dollars. The same man who’d slapped him into life thirty years before. “Doctor Slinger. How was his bloodwork?”

“Not good.”

“Why? It the Alzheimers getting worse?”

The doctor coughed. “Alzheimers doesn’t show in bloodwork. For that, we need to do an MRI. No, it’s not that. Your father is undernourished. He’s severely deficient in iron, potassium, vitamin C. And he’s only a short step away from diabetes.”

Andrew twined the phone cord around his wrist. Fran stood across the living room; she caught the worry in his eyes and reached for the extension line. “So what do I do?”

“He can’t live alone,” said the doctor. “He’s not eating right. Get him to hospital and then into a home. Within the week. I understand your situation, but he needs personal care.”

“I understand.” From across the room, Fran nodded, triumphant. “Will he be alright?”

A pause. “I don’t know.”

When the call finished he hung up, hands shaking. Fran cocked her head. “At least he’ll be out of the house.”

“Not funny,” he said, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyesockets. The phone rang again and he snatched it from the cradle. “Yes?”

Low breathing, hissed through wet lips. Then his father’s voice, quiet, reedy. “Son? I’m lost. Son?”

He drove white-knuckled, screaming at every red light. He ran the stairs to the fourth floor. The door was open.

Inside the apartment it was near black, and the air was suffocatingly humid. Strange dusts tickled his sinuses. A bookcase was drawn across the windows, and the stench of urine spilled from the bedroom.

He flicked on the light; his father sat in the corner, a bag of sugar in his lap. His eyes were sunken and rolled in their sockets. His skin was the colour of curdled milk. “I tried I tried I tried,” he said. “You came. Didn’t think you’d come.”

Andrew pried the bag of sugar free of his father’s grasping fingers. “Jesus.” He did his best not to breathe in. “Okay. Up. Let’s get you into the bath.”

“I’m hungry,” said Bill. Saliva pooled in one corner of his mouth. “But I…” He went limp, head lolling. “Can’t go where I want. Forget it all.”

“That’s alright,” said Andrew. He blinked hard as tears pricked his eyes. “It’ll be alright. It’ll come back.”

He bundled his father into the bath and scrubbed him clean, and then left him there as he attacked the carpet with sponges and detergent. He gathered up soiled clothes and pushed the bookcase back so that light flooded the living room, and for the first time he saw how thick the air was with dust.

He vacuumed and mopped and dressed his father in pyjamas and put him to bed. He called Fran. “No,” he said. “I’m staying the night. I don’t want him to drown. No. I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t think it’s a stroke.” He glanced down the hallway to the bedroom; snoring carried through the door. “Yeah. Tomorrow. Call the doc, arrange a time. We’ll get him into the home.” He hung up. “Thank Christ.”

He sat on the couch with his head in his hands and gnawed at the inside of his lip. The pain was momentary, but it kept him awake. The house smelled of lemon and lavender. Sterile, hospital smells. Get used to it now, he thought, and then chastised himself for being so cruel. It didn’t make the thoughts any less real.

On the table was a newspaper; the date was a week ago. He read the headlines, the cartoons, the editorial. Finally the crosswords.

Every box of the cryptic was filled with red pen in neat block letters. He brought the paper up to his face to read his father’s answers. His gut tightened. The words were all the same.

REMEMBER REMEMBER REMEMBER REMEMBER REMEMBER

Bill Harrigan woke. He shuffled from the bedroom, his blanket falling away in a heap. His eyes were rheumy, clouded by sleep. His hands grasped at the air.

In the living room was Andrew, on the couch, head tucked into his chest. Bill stood and watched his son a while. The gilded photo-frames were licked by moonlight. They shone like silver. He boiled a cup of coffee and supped in silence. The clock on the microwave read past midnight.

He took off his shirt and shoes, skin tight over his ribs, pants hanging slack off jutting hips. Then he left the apartment without looking back.

Three flights of stairs led to the rooftop. The knob was thick with dust, and his fingerprints were as deep as footprints. He closed the door behind him, twisting the key in the lock with a sudden burst of strength. Nobody would follow.

The rooftop was covered in pebbles that bit at his bare feet. He ignored the pain and kept his eyes fixed ahead. At the edge of the roof he looked down at the stream of cars that blazing headlight trails into the night. Far in the distance was the centre of the city, a million bright coloured pinpricks in the darkness, homes and offices and schools all tangled and fighting for air.

To his right was a tall television aerial sprouting steel branches. He turned away from the expanse and climbed the aerial to its highest peak. There he wrapped his arms tight around the crossbar, clinging against the wind like a caterpillar to a twig. The metal was stingingly cold against his flesh but he did not notice. The stars were dull behind the sheen of smog. He waited.

The moon shone bright upon sallow skin. At first he shivered, but then he went still. Something inside Bill Harrigan’s mind dwindled.

Dawn came quickly through clouds tinted green by industry. Bill Harrigan hung as a scarecrow, his skin dry and tight like parchment, gut distended, eyes closed. His pants had fallen away in the night. He watched naked over the city.

He watched a school bus boil over with laughing, chattering children. The baker put out his sandwich board – coffee and bagel, $4. He wiped doughy hands on his apron and went back inside.

Clouds gathered and then left. Something bulged above Bill’s right eye. Andrew was on the street now, yelling into his phone. He did not look up.

The first tendril broke through a weak spot in Bill’s skull, white and flaky and finger-thin, waving about as if tasting the air. It grew as the sun rose, curled upwards, following the aerial towards the sun.

The second came slower; it wormed out between his teeth, jaw dislocating with a crack of dried muscle. It was as thick about as his wrist. In his bloated belly, things squirmed. At noon, they too burst free.

By afternoon there were only scraps of bone, wrapped tight within the twists of fungus. The wind picked up, blowing hard and strong over the rooftops. The aerial swayed in metronome time.

The tendrils dried and hardened with the sun.

Then a strong gust; the tendrils collapsed in layers, shedding skin like a rain of ash. The air was filled with flakes of white. The husk split in two, then three, then a hundred pieces. The wind took the flaked in gentle arms. A flurry of spores twirled and danced as they were carried over the edge, passing seven sets of windows down to the sidewalk.

A child in a yellow windcheater broke away from his father as he saw them falling. “Look!” he cried, reaching up to catch them in cupped hands. “Snow! Snow, Dad!”

“Can’t be snow,” his father said. “It’s September.” He snatched a handful from the air. “Don’t know what that is.”

“Snow,” the boy repeated. He stuck his tongue out, held it there until a flake landed on the tip, swallowed. The air filled with white.

INECO en BBC Ciencia.

ineco — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 23:49:25 +0000

Compartimos con ustedes una nota Firmada por María Elena Navas para BBC Ciencia, referente a las investigaciones realizadas por un equipo de científicos dirijidos por el Dr. Facundo Manes.

Cuando el olvido es un problema.
¿Se le olvidan las llaves de la casa a menudo? ¿Tiende a no recordar el nombre de esa persona que ve diariamente? ¿Suele olvidar el camino de regreso a casa?

Hay olvidos que nos pasan a todos y olvidos que pueden ser síntoma precoz de la enfermedad de Alzheimer. Pero hasta ahora había sido difícil diferenciar cuándo se trata de un deterioro cognitivo normal y cuándo este deterioro es un signo precoz de demencia.

Ahora científicos argentinos diseñaron una serie de pruebas con las cuales, dicen, se puede identificar al grupo de personas en mayor riesgo de desarrollar Alzheimer.

"Se trata de identificar lo que llamamos deterioro cognitivo leve (DCL)" dijo a BBC Ciencia el doctor Facundo Manes, Director del Instituto de Neurociencias de la Fundación Favaloro y del Instituto de Neurología Cognitiva (INECO) en Argentina, quien dirigió el estudio.

"Ésta es una "zona gris" entre el olvido normal de la edad avanzada y el olvido patológico que se presenta con la enfermedad de Alzheimer, cuando los problemas cognitivos tienen un impacto en la vida diaria"

Etapa inicial.

El estudio de la demencia se ha tornado cada vez más sofisticado pero hasta ahora no se ha podido definir apropiadamente a un grupo de personas que pueden presentar un deterioro cognitivo pero que no cumplen los criterios para el diagnóstico de Alzheimer.

Y a la vez, detectar a aquéllos que podrían estar en mayor riesgo de desarrollarlo.

Tal como explica el científico, el objetivo de la investigación publicada en Journal of Neurology (Revista de Neurología), fue poder identificar a los individuos que presentan el DCL.

Según el investigador, "nos interesa estudiar a este grupo de pacientes con deterioro cognitivo leve porque creemos que es el estado precursor o la etapa predemencial de la enfermedad de Alzheimer".

Éste, agrega, es el estadio ideal para empezar con el tratamiento de los problemas cognitivos.

"Nos dimos cuenta que había muchos pacientes que consultaban a la clínica de memoria y al hacerles la evaluación cognitiva el resultado era normal, no se detectaba pérdida de memoria", dice Facundo Manes.

"Pero a pesar de esto, el paciente seguía quejándose".

La prueba incluye leer y comprender una historia y repetirla. A la media hora el paciente debe repetirla otra vez.

"Pero lo que hicimos ahora fue modificar esa evaluación cognitiva y pedirle al paciente que recuerde la historia a las seis semanas".

Los científicos se dieron cuenta de que la mitad de los pacientes que se quejaban de su memoria y que resultaban normales en la prueba de evaluación cognitiva, mostraban a las seis semanas un comportamiento de pérdida de memoria como el deterioro cognitivo leve.

"Así logramos detectar a pacientes que con los métodos tradicionales cognitivos no hubieran sido identificados y que cumplen el criterio del DCL", dice el investigador.

Progreso.

Aunque todavía no se tiene una cura para la enfermedad de Alzheimer, sí existen tratamientos farmacológicos y no farmacológicos que pueden retrasar la progresión de la enfermedad.

Y éstos también pueden mejorar la calidad de vida del paciente y de la familia.

"Cuanto antes podamos detectar el deterioro cognitivo, mayor autonomía podremos darle al paciente y mayor la posibilidad de que pueda planear su futuro mientras conserva la capacidad de hacerlo. Dr. Facundo Manes "

Pero tal como señalan los expertos, es esencial detectar la enfermedad de forma temprana y precisa para poder ofrecer al paciente el mejor tratamiento disponible.

"Actualmente hay más de 60 investigaciones de diferentes fármacos por lo cual es muy importante poder disponer de un estadio precoz de la enfermedad para la investigación de nuevas terapias".

Según los investigadores, éste es el primer estudio que propone el deterioro cognitivo leve como un factor de riesgo para desarrollar Alzheimer.

Por lo cual es necesario llevar a cabo más investigaciones para confirmarlo.

Hasta ahora, dice Facundo Manes, lo que se ha demostrado es que el riesgo de una persona de 65 años de desarrollar Alzheimer es de 1,5%.

Pero el riesgo de desarrollar la enfermedad en una persona de 65 años que presenta deterioro cognitivo leve es del 15 al 20%.

"Es por eso que pensamos que el DCL es el comienzo muy inicial de la enfermedad de Alzheimer".

"Y cuanto antes podamos detectar el deterioro cognitivo, mayor autonomía podremos darle al paciente y mayor la posibilidad de que pueda planear su futuro mientras conserva la capacidad de hacerlo", afirma el experto."

Desculpas furadas

Gabriel — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 22:12:25 +0000

Claro que, em menos de uma semana, é impossível desbravar uma cidade inteira. Não dá. Ainda mais um lugar tão especial como Barcelona. Em cada praça, em cada rua, há um detalhezinho surpreendente, uma escultura, um bar legal. Duvida? Olha só, então.

Mas eu e a Gabi nos esforçamos. Do kit básico “primeira vez na cidade”, só faltou o Montjüic, apesar de todas as boas referências do Ruy e da Lu.
A culpa foi daquela minha cagada no primeiro dia, quando comprei a passagem de trem para a França um dia antes do previsto. Teria dado pra ver tudo. Azar. É um bom motivo pra voltar um dia.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Outro motivo para voltar, claro, é encher a cara de Freixenet. É bem simples. Basta ir a um supermercado, entregar três moedas e sair com uma garrafa debaixo do braço. Uma barbada.
Pena que só compramos – e tomamos – uma na viagem toda.
Outra coisa legal de Barcelona: o salmão defumado é mais barato do que o presunto. Como a minha companheira de viagem gosta pouco de salmão, todo dia tinha salmão com pão, salmão com queijo, salmão com água, salmão com kit kat ou salmão com salmão.
Se os estudos sobre o ômega 3 estiverem certos, estamos livres do Alzheimer por uns 40 anos.

Filhos usam tecnologia para monitorar pais idosos

telmalomba — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 17:04:22 +0000

Elizabeth Olson

A primeira coisa que Lynn Pitet faz a cada manhã é verificar em seu computador se sua mãe, Helen Trost, saiu da cama, tomou seus remédios e está se movimentando pela casa em que vive, a centenas de quilômetros de distância.

Na metade do ano passado, o marido de Trost morreu depois de um derrame, mas ela optou por se manter na casa em que vive há 36 anos. Não queria ninguém vivendo na casa para cuidar dela, e não pode mais dirigir. Aos 88 anos, ela sofre de degeneração macular e usa remédios para prevenir convulsões, perda de memória e problemas musculares nas pernas.

"Ela é uma mulher valente", disse Pitet sobre a mãe. "Quando toma os remédios, tudo fica bem, mas mesmo assim eu vivo com medo porque ela está sozinha".

Pitet e a irmã decidiram se tornar parte do número pequeno mas crescente de pessoas que fazem instalar sensores de movimento e de monitoramento remoto para manter em segurança parentes idosos. Sensores afixados às paredes registram o momento em que Trost sai da cama e se ela vai ao armário de remédios, e alertam as filhas quanto a quaisquer desvios em sua rotina que possam indicar um acidente ou enfermidade. A família é mantida informada por um relatório eletrônico atualizado a cada manhã.

Sistemas de monitoração como esse, que vão vem além dos botões de emergência que existem há anos para uso doméstico, ainda não estão disponíveis em muitas casas. Alguns dos idosos se preocupam com a invasão de sua privacidade, e o custo básico do pacote pode variar entre US$ 50 e US$ 85 (R$ 81 e R$ 138) ao mês para o pacote de sensores e de aparelhos de monitoramento remoto escolhidos pela família de Trost. Pacotes mais abrangentes podem incluir aparelhos que acompanham a pressão sangüínea dos pacientes, seu peso e seu ritmo respiratório.

Os especialistas em envelhecimento dizem que esses sistemas se tornarão mais e mais comuns à medida que os membros da geração baby boom (os norte-americano nascidos entre 1946 e 1964) se aproximam de idade nas quais problemas físicos ou outros como diabetes ou dificuldades para enxergar podem ameaçar sua capacidade de viver independentemente.

O número crescente de pacientes do Mal de Alzheimer também pode ajudar a estimular a adoção de tecnologias como os sensores de movimentos, que podem alertar quanto a desvios de rotina, bem como de rastreadores que informarão se remédios estão sendo tomados e botões para acionar serviços de emergência.

Os sistemas de tecnologia que permitem aos usuários continuar envelhecendo com independência, ou, como definem alguns, "vivendo sem sair do lugar", ainda estão a anos de uma adoção mais generalizada, à espera de financiamento mais generoso para a pesquisa. Mas existem projetos em curso para o teste de aparelhos de alta tecnologia, entre os quais sensores sem fio e aparelhos de regulagem da temperatura, da luz e dos eletrodomésticos de uma casa, bem como de monitores médicos sofisticados.

Pesquisadores da Intel estão desenvolvendo aparelhos como um "bracelete de memória", que vibra em um momento especificado para lembrar o usuário de consultas médicas ou de tomar seus remédios. Em testes, há também tapetes com sensores integrados - Eric Dishman, diretor de pesquisa de produtos da empresa os define como "tapetes mágicos" - e sensores integrados às roupas, que medem mudanças na passada, a fim de evitar quedas.

Reconhecendo o potencial comercial de tecnologias para ajudar as pessoas que estão envelhecendo, dezenas de empresas norte-americanas como a GE Healthcare, IBM e Medtronic dois anos atrás formaram a Continua Health Alliance, para desenvolver produtos que ajudem pessoas mais velhas. A despeito dos projetos, dos testes e do interesse comercial, Dishman diz que os Estados Unidos estão "ficando para trás" no que tange às tecnologias de assistência aos idosos, se comparados à Europa.

"Ainda não conduzimos trabalho de pesquisa e desenvolvimento em volume suficiente para provar que essas tecnologias funcionam", disse ele. "Nenhum de nós quer colocar em casas de idosos tecnologias que não tenham sido testadas".

Ele informou que a União Européia havia destinado US$ 1,5 bilhão em verbas para financiar o desenvolvimento de tecnologia de assistência à vida independente.

No ano passado, a Intel formou uma parceria com o governo da Irlanda para criar o Centro de Pesquisa de Tecnologia para a Vida Independente, conhecido como Tril, em Dublin, para inventar e testar tecnologias que auxiliem os idosos e enfermos a manter vidas independentes.

Até agora, disse ele, uma dúzia de outros países e 30 universidades solicitaram a assistência do Tril.

Algumas empresas prestadoras de serviços de saúde começaram a equipar seus clientes com aparelhos que se enquadram às suas necessidades. A NewCourtland Elder Services, que presta assistência de saúde a cerca de duas mil pessoas em Filadélfia, iniciou um programa piloto de um ano de duração, em 2006, acompanhando 33 pacientes que viviam sozinhos, por meio de sensores remotos que acompanhavam as mudanças em sua saúde ou padrões de atividade que poderiam exigir intervenção médica rápida, disse Kim Brooks, vice-presidente de habitação e serviço na NewCourtland.

Um dos pacientes é Cleora Colley, 77, técnica farmacêutica aposentada que usa uma cadeira de rodas desde que perdeu as duas pernas devido ao diabetes. Ela mora sozinha em um condomínio para idosos, e um sistema remoto mede sua pressão e envia dados a um centro de monitoramento, que notifica Colley e seu médico sobre quaisquer mudanças. "Eu vivo por minha conta, mas não estou sozinha", disse Colley, acrescentando: "realmente aprecio a minha independência".

Tradução: Paulo Migliacci ME

De laatste dementie

martijn — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 08:09:57 +0000

Liefste,

De bel gaat, en je springt op. Eten !, roep je. Je lacht uitbundig. Maar een fractie later zet je je wollen muts op. Je grijpt naar je sjaal. De mooiste die je ziet. Je wil je jas van mij. Als ik aarzel, dring je aan. Je zegt dat we weggaan. Naar buiten. De weg op. Naar het strand. Meeuwen eten geven. Ze hebben honger, zeg je. Het is koud geweest vannacht. En de bel ?, vraag ik je. Maar die ben je alweer vergeten, blijkbaar. Zoals je alles vergeet. Zelfs wie ik ben, weet je niet meer. Je mompelt in jezelf, net niet stil genoeg zodat ik het kan horen: "met wie hebben ze me vandaag nu weer opgezadeld ?"

Liefste, ik neem het je niet kwalijk. Als je niet meer weet wie ik ben. Jij van wie het verstand stukje bij beetje afbrokkelt. Net als de huizen die met de krijtrotsen van Dover in het Kanaal donderen. Jij van wie het verstand met je speelt als met een kind op een op hol geslagen achtbaan. Gegijzeld met doodsangst in je ogen. Zweterige handen. Schuim dat tussen je tanden over je lippen langs je kin op de vloer druipt. Er is haast niets meer dat je weet of kan. En haast niets kan je nog ophouden. Niets in je lijf van gerookt vlees, noch in je getergde verstand. Maar mijn liefde is er nog. Onze liefde.

Liefste, de hele dag door leg je je mooie handen in die van anderen, die ik betaal, hoewel je me niet meer kent en we apart slapen. Jij met de nachtoppas. Elk in een bed. Ik in een kamer ernaast. Op een zetelbed. Lucas is aardig voor je. Hij drinkt liters water elke nacht. Hij noteert je doen en laten in een thuiszorgboekje. Zoals iedereen die met je omgaat. En naast elke opmerking staat mijn krabbel. Ik, staat er, heb alles 'gelezen en goedgekeurd'. Nou ja, goedgekeurd is veel gezegd. En af en toe lees ik meer tranen dan tekst.

Liefste, vannacht ben je braaf geweest, staat er. Je bent drie keer gaan plassen. Daarin ben je alvast niet veel veranderd. Hoeveel keer heb ik vroeger niet wakker gelegen toen je weer eens een druppel moest lossen in 't holst van de nacht ? Of hoe je wel een half uur lang je tanden moest poetsen ? Al dat water dat maar wegliep. Tot ver in mijn dromen. Het water van mijn liefde, voelde ik je zachtjes in mijn oor fluisteren, als je weer warm naast me kwam liggen, l'eau de mon amour.

Liefste, je bent altijd gek geweest op water. Ik zie je nog voor me. Dat moment dat onze wegen elkaar voor 't eerst vermengen. Op een brug in Praag. Tussen de beneden - en bovenstad. Pal in het midden. Jij, een vrouw die een meisje is gebleven, maar met de gratie die je al van kindsbeen af hebt. Sommige meisjes staan er en blijven ergens voor staan. Jij bent er zo een.

Liefste, je wandelt nog steeds graag. Zo graag dat we de hele zeedijk afschuimen. Tot aan het topje van het staketsel. De boten zien uitvaren en dan terugkeren. Als we thuis zijn, doe je je jas uit. Je drinkt een kop hete thee met veel suiker of honing. En je vraagt een moment later, doodserieus : wanneer gaan we eindelijk wandelen ? Straks, zeg ik je dan, wat wil je dan zien ? Je kijkt me aan. Met je grote ogen. Alsof voor jou de ultieme dwaas zit. Je roept uit : de zee, de zee, ik wil de zee zien ! Als je in de gang bent, roep je, weer op zoek naar iets onzichtbaars, dat je weer eens ontglipt is: 'ik ben van de zee'. Waarop ik terug roep: 'ik ook !'. Dan kom je teruggelopen, intens blij, omhelst me en fluistert in mijn oor: "ik heb al zooolang gewacht op iemand van de zee. Je moest eens weten wat ze hier allemaal afzetten. Al die boeren en boerinnen, dat schorriemorrie dat met me wil gaan wandelen."

Terwijl je nog wat verder rommelt en gevechten levert met wolken, zet ik de radio op. Als de meisjesgroep K3 "je hebt een vriend" zingen, wordt je heel stil en komt bij me zitten. Je pinkt een traan weg. Even rust. Straks komt de ziekenoppas het overnemen. Dan schrijf ik je verder. Beloofd !

Je man.

Kopi Lindungi Otak Dari Kerusakan

rasanrasan — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 20:43:09 +0000

Dimuat di Warta Kota Magelang
Edisi 05 tahun 2008

SEBUAH penelitian menunjukkan kafein (kandungan utama dalam kopi) dalam jumlah yang tepat dapat melindungi otak dari kerusakan akibat kolesterol.

Dalam penelitian sebelumnya didapatkan bahwa kolesterol menjadi penyebab utama kerusakan otak. Memang masih belum didapatkan secara pasti apa penyebab alzheimer, tapi para ilmuwan meyakini tingginya kadar kolesterol dalam darah merupakan pemicu munculnyapenyakit itu.

Kafein mampu menghadang efek buruk kolesterol. Kafein terbukti memperkuat penghalang bahan-bahan berbahaya yang dibawa darah ke otak atau yang dikenal dengan istilah blood brain barrier.

Blood brain barrier adalah semacam filter yang mampu melindungi sistem syaraf pusat (otak) dari bahan-bahan kimia yang punya potensi berbahaya yang terbawa oleh darah. Kafein mampu menghadang efek negatif kolesterol yang membuat blood brain barrier melemah.

Selain memperkuat blood brain barrier, kafein dalam jumlah tepat juga terbukti aman dan siap diolah menjadi obat yang mampu menstabilkan blood brain barrier. Jika telah mampu dibuat, obat ini diyakini akan memegang peranan penting dalam terapi bagi penderita gangguan syaraf.

Penelitian yang dilakukan bukan pada menusia, melainkan pada kelinci. Kelinci-kelinci itu menjalani program diet tinggi kolesterol selama 12 minggu. Kemudian, kelinci itu dibagi dalam dua kelompok. Satu kelompok kelinci diberi suplemen kafein yang jumlahnya setara secangkir kopi seriap hari. Hasilnya kelinci yang diberi kafein punya blood brain barrier yang lebih bagus dan kuat daripada yang tidak diberi kafein.

Penelitian itu membuat juru bicara Masyarakat Alzheimer menyarankan agar penelitian serupa dilakukan pada manusia. Hal itu perlu dilakukan agar diketahui hasil dengan detail yang akurat tentang dampak kafein pada manusia dan otak.

Selain berdampak pada peredaran darah, kenaikan level kandungan kolesterol bisa menyebabkan persoalan dengan blood brain barrier. Padahal blood brain barrier inilah yang melindungi otak dari racun dan infeksi. Selama ini, belum ada penelitian bagaiman blood brain barrier melindungi otak dari alzheimer atau stroke.

Meski demikian, Masyarakat Alzheimer menilai penelitian tersebut merupakan bukti terbaik bahwa jumlah kafein setara secangkir kopi mampu melindungi otak dari akibat buruk kolesterol. Penelitian ini membawa secercah cahaya terang perihal manfaat minum secangkir kopi sehari.

Diet Bisa Buat Otak Cemerlang Loh

hidupsehatselalu — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 02:16:37 +0000

Siapa bilang diet rendah kalori cuma bikin tubuh langsing? Sebuah penelitian yang dilakukan oleh Mark Mattson, Ph.D, dari National Institut on Aging di Baltimore, memberikan bukti lain.

"Dari percobaan terhadap binatang, kami menemukan diet rendah kalori dapat melindungi sel otak dari penyakit Alzheimer dan Parkinson." Di samping itu diet rendah kalori juga dapat meningkatkan kemampuan belajar dan memori.

Bagaiman diet rendah kalori dapat berpengaruh pada otak? Mattson menyebutkan makan dalam jumlah sedikit menyebabkan sel syaraf mendongkrak protein yang ampuh melawan penuaan. Di sisi lain peningkatan protein juga memproduksi sel syaraf lebih banyak.

Mattson memperkirakan takaran yang bisa dikonsumsi wanita untuk menjalankan dietnya yaitu 1600 kalori. Jumlah itu cukup baik jika Anda berniat menurunkan berat badan, tapi memang terlalu sedikit jika Anda tidak ingin menurunkan bobot Anda.

Mattson melakukan penelitian ini terhadap sekelompok tikus yang mengkonsumsi 30 persen kalori lebih rendah dari kelompok tikus lainnya yang mengkonsumsi kalori dalam takaran normal.

Kemudian dua toksin otak tikus yang berbeda diberi asam kainic, senyawa yang memusnahkan sel syaraf di hippocampus, bagian otak untuk belajar dan mengingat; dan 3-nitropropionic asam, yang memusnahkan sel syaraf di striatum, daerah otak yang khusus mengatur kontrol gerak-gerik badan.

Pada pasien Alzheimer dan stroke, sel syaraf hippocampus mengalami kerusakan, sementara orang yang menderita penyakit Huntington dan penyakit Parkinson kontak sel syaraf di striatum yang mengalami kerusakan.

Untuk tikus yang melakukan diet ketat, asam kainic akan mengurangi resiko kerusakan pada bagian sel syaraf hippocampal daripada tikus yang tak menjalani diet. Asam kainic semakin menyebabkan otak tak bisa dengan cepat mencerna sesuatu dan mengurangi kemampuan daya ingat pada kelompok tikus yang tak membatasi makanan.

Hasilnya masih lebih nyata pada model penyakit Parkinson dan penyakit Huntington. Toksin menyebabkan terganggunya kerja otak pada tikus yang tak melakukan diet, tetapi tidak berpengaruh pada tikus yang melakukan diet rendah kalori.

"Meskipun penelitian ini tidak dilakukan pada manusia, namun tampaknya masih ada kaitan yang erat antara konsumsi kalori pada manusia dan dengan timbulnya gangguan neurodegenerative," kata Mattson.

Misalnya, orang yang tinggal di Jepang dan Cina cenderung mengkonsumsi kalori lebih sedikit dibanding orang Amerika dan orang Kanada, sehingga mereka prosentase penyakit Alzheimer lebih rendah.

Bagi orang berusia diantara 20 dan 50 tahun, Mattson menganjurkan pemasukan kalori antara 1.600-2.200 perhari. Jumlah asupan tersebut tak akan akan membuat kelaparan, meskipun jauh dari rata-rata kalori normal yang biasa dikonsumsi pada rata-rata usia tersebut. (lighthouse)

Alzheimer

setan cupu — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 18:00:56 +0000

Tadi sore abis nonton pilem korea, bukan pilem baru seh, tu pilem premiere di korea taon 2004, judulnya Nae Merisokui Jiwoogae ato kalo enggres titelnya tuh A Moment To Remember. Yawh namanya juga pilem drama, ya sedih-sedih ditu deh, untungnya gwe nonton sambil Ye-Em'an, jadi aman dari mata memerah alias mu nangis deh, hehehehe...

Nah, di pilem itu tuh karakter si cewek kena penyakit yang namanya Alzheimer atawa Kepikunan, iseng-iseng browsing ternyata ada penjelasan soal penyakit ini, serem juga liatnya, iseng-iseng browsing, iseng-iseng ngeblog, lama juga udah gak posting, yawda iseng-iseng lagi gwe tulis ajah soal Alzheimer ini, jadi begini ceritanya...

Alzheimer atau kepikunan merupakan sejenis penyakit penurunan fungsi saraf otak yang kompleks dan progresif. Penyakit Alzheimer bukannya sejenis penyakit menular. Penyakit Alzheimer adalah keadaan di mana daya ingatan seseorang merosot dengan parahnya sehingga pengidapnya tidak mampu mengurus diri sendiri. Penyakit Alzheimer bukannya 'kekanak-kanakan karena usia tua' yang sekadar suatu proses penuaan. Sebaliknya, adalah sejenis masalah kesehatan yang amat menyiksa dan perlu diberikan perhatian.

Alzheimer digolongkan ke dalam salah satu dari jenis nyanyuk (dementia) yang dicirikan dengan melemahnya percakapan, kewarasan, ingatan, pertimbangan, perubahan kepribadian dan tingkah laku yang tidak terkendali. Keadaan ini amat membebani bukan saja kepada pengidapnya, malah anggota keluarga yang menjaga. Penyakit Alzheimer yang menurunkan fungsi memori ini juga menjejaskan fungsi intelektual dan sosial penghidapnya. Biasanya, anggota keluarga hanya datang membawa orang yang sakit berjumpa dokter apabila mereka sudah tidak tahan dengan gejala orang yang sakit.

Hingga kini, sumber sebenarnya penyakit ini tidak diketahui. Tetapi, ia bukanlah disebabkan penuaan. Bagaimanapun, ilmuwan berpendapat, ia dikaitkan dengan pembentukan dan perubahan pada sel-sel saraf yang normal menjadi serat.

Resiko untuk mengidap Alzheimer, penyakit yang sinonim dengan orang tua ini, meningkat seiring dengan pertambahan usia. "Bermula pada usia 65 tahun, seseorang mempunyai resiko lima persen mengidap penyakit ini dan resiko ini meningkat dua kali lipat setiap lima tahun," kata Ahli Psikogeriatrik, Kantor Pengobatan Psikologi, Fakultas Pusat Pengobatan Universitas Malaya (PPUM), Dr. Esther Ebeenezer.

Menurut Esther, sekalipun penyakit ini dikaitkan dengan orang tua, namun sejarah membuktikan bahwa pesakit pertama yang dikenal pasti menghidap penyakit ini ialah wanita dalam usia awal 50-an.

Sejarah Alzheimer
Penyakit yang pertama kalinya, ditemukan oleh Dr. Alois Alzheimer pada 1907 ini, dinamakan Alzheimer, menurut namanya.

Hasil bedah pengamatan, Alzheimer mendapati Syaraf otak tersebut bukan saja mengecut, malah dipenuhi dengan gumpalan protein yang luar biasa yang disebut plak amiloid dan serat yang berbelit-belit (neuro fibrillary).

Amiloid protein yang membentuk sel-sel plak protein, dipercaya menyebabkan perubahan kimia otak. Musnahnya sel-sel saraf ini menyebabkan syaraf otak yang berfungsi menyampaikan pesan dari satu neuron ke neuron lain terpengaruh.

Meskipun penyakit ini yang semula ditemukan hampir satu abad yang lalu, ia tidak seterkenal penyakit yang lainnya seperti sakit jantung, hipertensi, Sindrom Pernafasan Akut Parah (SARS) atau sebagainya.

Kemungkinan ini disebabkan oleh penyakit ini tidak dapat dilihat gejalanya langsung seperti penyakit hipertensi yang dapat dilihat melalui pemeriksaan tekanan darah secara berkala.

Penelitian klinis terbaru menunjukkan suplementasi dengan asam lemak omega-3 dapat memperlambat menurunan fungsi kognitif pada penderita alzheimer ringan.

Pengungkapan terhadap Alzheimer
Publikasi mengenai penyakit Alzheimer masih rendah dan banyak orang tidak mengetahui tentang penyakit ini sampai dipublikasikan secara terbuka sendiri oleh bekas Presiden Amerika Serikat yang ke-40, Ronald Reagan dalam suratnya tertanggal 5 November 1994.

Penyakit Alzheimer sukar dideteksi sebab banyak yang beranggapan orang tua yang semula lupa, adalah sesuatu yang lazim karena faktor usia. Padahal itu mungkin tanda-tanda awal seseorang itu mengidap penyakit Alzheimer.

Tingkat Alzheimer
Lupa meletakkan kunci mobil, mengambil baki uang, tidak tahu membeli barang ke kedai, lupa nomor telepon atau kardus obat yang biasa dimakan ialah di antara sebagian gejala ringan.

Apabila orang yang sakit lupa mencampurkan gula dalam minuman, garam dalam masakan atau cara-cara mengaduk air dikategorikan sebagai tingkat sederhana.

Apabila orang yang sakit sudah tidak mampu melakukan perkara asas seperti menguruskan diri sendiri, keliru dengan keadaan sekitar rumah, tidak mengenali rekan-rekan atau anggota keluarga terdekat, ia menandakan orang yang sakit berada di tingkat yang serius.

Tanda-tanda lain
Orang yang terkena penyakit ini dapat menjadi agresif, cepat marah dan kehilangan minat untuk berinteraksi atau hobi yang pernah diminatinya. Diperkirakan bahwa pada sekitar 1950-an kira-kira 2,5 juta penduduk dunia mengidap penyakit ini. Pada tahun 2000, pengidap Alzheimer diperkirakan mencapai enam milyar orang.

Organisasi Kesehatan Dunia (WHO), memperkirakan lebih dari satu milyar orang tua yang berusia lebih dari 60 tahun atau 10 persen penduduk dunia menghidap Alzheimer (2003). Peningkatan ini, ada kaitannya dengan semakin banyak penduduk dunia yang berusia lanjut , masa hidup wanita meningkat hingga umur 80 tahun dan 75 tahun bagi lelaki. Selain itu, penjagaan kesehatan yang lebih baik, tingkat perkawinan menurun, perceraian bertambah dan mereka yang kawin tetapi tidak banyak anak.

Orang yang sakit yang berada di tahap sederhana dan parah akan menunjukkan tingkah laku yang aneh. Di antaranya, seperti menjerit, terpekik dan mengikut perawat ke mana saja walaupun ke WC.

Selain itu, orang yang sakit juga mendengar suara atau bisikan halus dan melihat bayangan menakutkan. Semua ini secara tidak langsung memberi tekanan mental kepada perawat sebab mereka terpaksa menjaga orang yang sakit '36 jam' sehari.

Orang yang sakit juga kadangkala akan berjalan ke sana sini tanpa sebab dan pola tidur mereka juga berubah. Orang yang sakit akan lebih banyak tidur pada waktu siang dan terbangun pada waktu malam.

Secara umum, orang sakit yang didiagnosis mengidap penyakit ini meninggal dunia akibat radang paru-paru atau pneumonia. Ini disebabkan, pada waktu itu orang yang sakit tidak dapat melakukan sembarang aktivitas lain.

Yang menyedihkan, adalah orang yang sakit itu sendiri tidak memahami apa yang terjadi pada diri mereka dan memerlukan bantuan orang lain. Berita buruknya penyakit Alzheimer ini, tidak dapat disembuhkan. Tetapi, gejalanya masih dapat dikendalikan dengan obat-obatan.

Obat-obatan yang diberi pada tingkat awal, dapat membantu ingatan penderita seperti kognitif, aktivitas harian dan tingkah laku.

Orang yang berisiko
pengidap hipertensi yang mencapai usia 40 tahun ke atas
Pengidap kencing manis
Kurang berolahraga
Tingkat kolesterol yang tinggi
Faktor keturunan - mempunyai keluarga yang mengidap penyakit ini pada usia 50-an.

Pengidap Alzheimer yang terkenal
Enid Blyton
Charles Bronson
Winston Churchill
Perry Como
Alfred Deakin
James Doohan
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Barry Goldwater
Rita Hayworth
Charlton Heston
Beatrice Lillie
RatuJuliana dari Belanda(1948 – 1980)
Burgess Meredith
Iris Murdoch
Maurice Ravel
Ronald Reagan
Sugar Ray Robinson
Margaret Rutherford
Cyrus Vance
E.B. White
Harold Wilson

Pembahasan Alzheimer ini gwe ambil dari sini.

gambar gwe ambil dari sini.

Near death experiences...

boldfrank — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 14:21:59 +0000

Zilele trecute am vazut intimplator pe TVR2 un documentar strain despre oamenii care au trait experiente de tip "near death", adica au fost in moarte clinica, au vazut si simtit diverse lucruri si apoi s-au intors inapoi in corpul lor. Mai toate povestirile lor aveau o serie de elemente comune:

- luminile puternice pe care le-au vazut cind erau in moarte clinica, senzatia de tunel spre o alta lume

- o puternica senzatie de pace si impacare, de caldura si de a se simti iubiti

- senzatia de iesire din corpul fizic, de a isi vedea corpul din exterior

Este prea mare coincidenta ca toti acesti oameni sa vada aceleasi lucruri. Faptul ca ei au fost in moarte clinica e confirmat de cei din jurul lor. Adeptii stiintei pure vin sa argumenteze ca asa e programat creierul sa actioneze cind ramine fara oxigen, se intimpla niste reactii chimico-energetice care produc lucrurile de mai sus, mai ales pe cele de la punctul 1.

Dar asta nu poate insemna ca Dumnezeu a "proiectat" special creierul uman spre a ne facilita trecerea spre lumea "de dincolo", desprinderea sufletului de trup si elevarea lui ? Scrierile de tip "Cartea mortilor" de acum 2000 ani ale civilizatiilor Egiptene sau Persiene vorbeau despre aceleasi tunele si lumini si despre faptul ca luminile sunt binevoitoare si trebuie urmate... Un preot recent disparut, unul din marii si autenticii duhovnici ai Romaniei, fiind pe patul de moarte si aproape in coma, a spus "ce frumos este dincolo"...

Imi doresc sa cred ca aceasta trecere a sufletului in alta lume este adevarata, si ca sufletul tatalui meu mort in urma unei grele lupte cu maladia Alzeimer s-a eliberat din trupul si creierul acelea care nu il mai ascultau si acum e liber si neingradit undeva acolo unde ii e bine pe masura sufletului sau mare... si desi mie mi-e dor crunt de el, ma gindesc ca trebuie sa nu fiu egoist si sa ma bucur ca el s-a eliberat....

España | Gala Benéfica en Sa Gruta de los Rotarios del Llevant a Favor de los Enfermos de Alzheimer

Pablo Fernando Sanchez — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 04:21:27 +0000

Gala Benéfica en Sa Gruta de los Rotarios del Llevant a Favor de los Enfermos de Alzheimer
Libertad Balear - Palma, Baleares, España

El Club Rotary Llevant de Mallorca celebrará el próximo día 20 de junio, a las 21:30 horas, en el restaurante Sa Gruta Nova de Porto Cristo, una Gala Benéfica ...

Fake Bus Stops Used to Retrieve Alzheimer's Patients

Jerrold Bartholomew — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 11:56:19 +0000

How lax is security at Alzheimer's facilities in Germany? This story apparently answers that question and explains that fake bus stops are used to gather in patients who wander away:

"It sounds funny but it helps," said Franz-Josef Goebel, the chairman of the "Old Lions" association.

The result is that errant patients now wait for their trip home at the [fake] bus stop, before quickly forgetting why they were there in the first place.

"Our members are 84 years old on average. Their short-term memory hardly works, but the long-term memory is still active.

"They know the green and yellow bus sign and remember that waiting there means they will go home."

I have never seen a facility in Michigan that would allow patients out the door, never mind rely on a fake bus stop to retrieve the patients. I wonder, however, whether this story has been reported with complete accuracy or if something has been lost in translation. I cannot believe that an Alzheimer's ward would allow patients to wander off unobserved. It makes more sense that the fake bus stops are used as a form of therapy: if the patients feel that they must try to return home, the bus stop can allow them to scratch that itch. And going out to the bus stop will give the patient some exercise. But I would be interested to hear the thoughts of others with some expertise in the care of Alzheimer's patients. Can this story be accurate as reported?