PrissPress

A blog to share my Early-onset Alzheimer's journey in an effort to offer a sense of community to others on the same journey and provide understanding to those supporting my journey.

  • A recent podcast encouraged listeners to widen their circle and step in rather than stand back. The message was about embracing people who are different from us and sharing our personal experience with Christ along the way. That encouragement stirred something in me and reminded me of the many resources I explored during the year following my diagnosis.

    I want to share those resources here in the hope that they may be helpful to others. Some supported me as a person living with dementia, some are especially useful for caregivers, and others could benefit anyone navigating unexpected life changes.

    In a world where we often rely on reviews before trying something new, a few of my reflections may sound a bit like that—and that’s okay.

    Apps & Programs

    Hallow App
    This app has been a true lifeline for me. It’s easy to navigate, works consistently, and allows you to set routines with helpful reminders. I start my mornings with a short, uplifting devotion based on Lisa Brenninkmeyer’s Be Still book and have gradually explored more of what it offers—particularly enjoying the Word of the Day puzzle, Jeff Cavins’ podcast, and closing my evenings with Dave Pivonka’s Holy Spirit reflections.

    There is soothing music, brief lessons on people from both the Old and New Testaments, and calming sleep stories. While it is Catholic-based, it is appropriate for anyone with a Christian faith background. For me, it has been worth every penny.

    Calm App
    This app includes soothing music and auditory sleep programs. I didn’t end up using it as often as I expected, but I can see how it might be helpful for calming agitation. Personally, I found it somewhat difficult to navigate given some of my challenges, and it occasionally closed without explanation (which could have been operator error).

    Glorify App
    I was hoping this would be a non-denominational alternative similar to Hallow, but it fell short for me. The navigation was not intuitive, and the content—stories, activities, and speakers—did not compare. I canceled my subscription after the free trial period.

    Care Calendar
    www.carecalendar.org
    This free website helps organize meals, rides, and other support during times of illness, recovery, or major life events. My friends encouraged me to set one up so they could sign up to take me to infusion appointments and accompany me to doctor visits.

    The calendar is easy to create, has solid privacy options, and is simple for even non-tech-savvy friends to use. Honestly, setting it up required me to face my “I hate to ask for help” tendency. What surprised me most was hearing how much my friends felt blessed by being able to help in a way that truly mattered. It definitely helped me widen my circle.

    iPhone Health App
    This has been a lifesaver. I keep my medications and vitamins listed in the app, which is incredibly helpful at doctor visits. I also use the built-in medication reminders (not the regular phone alarm), which prompt me to take—and record—that I’ve taken my meds at the correct times.

    This system works well for me right now, although I know a time may come when additional support will be needed.


    Counseling, Professional Support, Caregiver Wisdom

    Teepa Snow
    www.teepasnow.com
    Teepa Snow is a nationally recognized dementia care expert and a leading advocate for positive care for individuals living with dementia. Her website offers a wealth of resources for caregivers and medical professionals alike.

    In a rare opportunity, Teepa will be speaking in person in Dothan in January 2026. It will be well worth the $12 ticket to attend the workshop. Information can be found through this Facebook post:
    https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1CALqjbXa4/   

    Rachel Carpenter, Counselor
    carpentercounseling.rachel@gmail.com
    With personal experience of dementia in her own family, she provides compassionate support for both patients and caregivers.
    Rachel is based in Dothan but offers televisits for those outside the area or unable to come in person

    Her background includes music therapy, addiction counseling, and veteran therapy, making her someone many can lean on. She can be reached via phone or text at 334-769-2735 or by email. She also has a Facebook page.

    Jo Huey – The 10 Absolutes of Alzheimer’s Caregiving
    Jo Huey, an Alzheimer’s caregiver for more than 30 years, created what she calls The 10 Absolutes of Alzheimer’s Caregiving. These principles are grounded not in theory, but in decades of lived experience. She expands on them in her book, Alzheimer’s Disease: Help and Hope.

    As a patient, I can’t overstate how meaningful I find #1 and #5. It’s not that I don’t want to be corrected—it’s that my ability to think quickly enough to volley a topic back and forth is no longer there. When that happens, I simply shut down.

    And #5 is critical: words, events, or memories that are gone for a person with Alzheimer’s are often truly gone. No amount of hints, “you know,” or prodding will bring them back. Simply tell the word or the information and move on. That kindness matters more than being right.

    Be Light Care Consulting
    https://tinyurl.com/yc6axakm
    Be Light Care Consulting features Adria Thompson’s “must-see” short videos that offer insight, encouragement, and practical wisdom for everyday, one-on-one care between dementia patients and their families or caregivers.

    Her reels—available on Facebook and Instagram—are uplifting, relatable, and often affirming in ways that make you feel less alone and more understood. The content is bite-sized, easy to absorb, and grounded in compassion and real-life caregiving moments. Learn more at bio.belightcare.com.


    Faith-Based & Community Support

    Respite For All
    Respite for All is a national movement of faith-based, volunteer-driven programs dedicated to building communities of connection and well-being for those living with Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias. These programs provide daily activities for participants as well as support for caregivers and families.

    We are blessed to have a wonderful program here in Dothan, along with others throughout the South and across the country. You can visit www.respiteforall.org to see if there is a program near you.

    Hilarity for Charity (HFC) www.wearehfc.org
    I absolutely love this organization. I mean who doesn’t need to laugh along the way?! HFC is a national nonprofit focused on supporting families impacted by Alzheimer’s, activating the next generation of advocates, and advancing brain health research and education.

    I found HFC through a Netflix documentary shortly after my diagnosis, when I knew I needed to be more social and proactive for my own well-being. Caregivers—please consider attending the Calm Through Coloring Zoom session once a month. I joined not realizing it was intended for caregivers, and it became the most calming night of my month. No one minded that I was a patient instead. HFC also offers respite grants, virtual yoga, educational resources, and has an active Facebook presence. If nothing else, watch the documentary created by the founders.

    Leqembi and Kisunla Support Group (Facebook)
    https://tinyurl.com/35brhf5e
    This group was created for patients taking plaque-buster drugs, and it is the most caring, supportive community I’ve found. Spouses and caregivers can ask infusion-related questions, and patients like me can ask even the “silliest” questions without judgment.

    One of the admins, Dave—an Alzheimer’s patient himself—has an incredible depth of knowledge about trials, medications, testing, and emerging research. If you have trouble finding the group, feel free to reach out to me.


    Products

    “Empowering Me” Book (shameless plug)
    https://prisspress.com/empowering-me/
    This book was created to help individuals communicate their personal preferences, routines, and important medical details—especially during a health crisis. It’s designed to be a practical tool that speaks for you when you may struggle to do so yourself.

    The cost is $10 for local pickup or $15 to be shipped. Ordering information can be found through the Empowering Me link.


    Lifestyle & Activities

    American Mahjong (not the computer version)
    Oh my gosh—what a brain workout. Six months ago, I never would have believed this was something I could do. I was discouraged by my recent testing scores, struggling with word recall, and my math skills felt nearly nonexistent.

    I told my friends I would just watch (I even wore a shirt to the first night that said exactly that), but they didn’t let me stay on the sidelines. It was slow going at first, but now I can hold my own during games. Yes, they still help me recall tile names, remind me when it’s my turn, and repeat the rules more times than I can count—but I can tell it has improved my concentration and provided valuable social interaction.

    Travel Puzzles
    We all know puzzles are important for brain health. I started with standard-sized puzzles and left them on the table, completing several—but it really bothered me that they were always out, messy, and in the way.

    Then I discovered travel puzzles that come in small, portable tubes. They’re still challenging but can be done anywhere—even on a tray in your lap—and easily put away when you’re done. There are countless themes and price points available. I started with a set of three for $15, and they’ve been a great fit for me. https://tinyurl.com/36k5uxyc


    Products & Home Supports

    Fingerprint Door Locks
    It was a real shock the day I came back from a walk and couldn’t remember the code to my front door. It had been the same numbers for at least 20 years—half my son’s friends knew it! I ended up sitting on the front porch until I remembered it was tied to an old phone number.

    After that, my son installed fingerprint door locks. They are incredibly easy for me to use—just touch the lock. He can also unlock the door remotely if needed, and a few trusted people have their fingerprints programmed so they can check on me or let me in. There are several options available, but this is the model I use. My son said installation was very easy. https://tinyurl.com/bp9v5syk

    Skylight Calendar
    A smart, touchscreen calendar that tracks schedules, chores, meal prep, and more. Mine was a Christmas gift, so I’m still learning, but I like that it sits on my kitchen counter (it can also hang on a wall). Family members can add appointments remotely from their phones, and it’s easy to read and navigate.

    I still use a paper calendar because I like to write notes to myself—but I enjoy writing, so there’s that! I’ll give a more complete review down the road. myskylight.com

    Hero Pill Dispenser (not yet purchased)
    I haven’t purchased this yet, but it comes highly recommended by caregivers in my support group. It does have a hefty yearly price tag, but users say it’s worth every penny. There are less expensive alternatives on Amazon without subscriptions, though they aren’t quite as robust. For now, the Health app on my iPhone is keeping me on track, but I expect I’ll explore other options in the coming months.

    MyID Medical Bracelet
    On the day of my first infusion, I was given an alert card listing medications that are contraindicated for me and told to keep it in my wallet. When I mentioned this to my daughter-in-law (an ER nurse), she gently corrected that assumption. She explained that in a true emergency, medical teams do not search phones, wallets, or purses—they’re focused on saving a life. What they often notice is a medical bracelet.

    Because of that, I wear a MyID bracelet. It’s comfortable, not bulky, and has held up beautifully after a year of daily wear. On the back is a QR code that can be quickly scanned to access critical medical information. It has given me—and my family—peace of mind.
    More information can be found at www.shop.getmyid.com.


    Health, Nutrition, Diet

    Mediterranean Diet
    One of the first recommendations I received at Mayo Clinic was to adopt the Mediterranean diet, along with staying active, doing puzzles, exercising, and continuing my book club. I’ve found the diet easy to follow, satisfying, and flavorful.

    Do I still want chicken fingers and fries sometimes? Absolutely. But I stick with it most of the time. I started with online research and Mediterranean Diet for Dummies, then pared recipes down to meals I can easily prepare. (I no longer use the big oven and stove—don’t ask me why!)

    Mushroom Coffee (Lion’s Mane)
    My doctor recommended Lion’s Mane and other supplements for brain health. Since Lion’s Mane is a mushroom—and I have no desire to eat mushrooms—I was relieved to find it in coffee form because I love coffee!

    Fair warning: some mushroom coffees taste terrible. This one, with a splash of flavored cream, has become my daily 3:00 p.m. treat. It includes a solid dose of brain-supporting nutrients and nootropic herbs. https://tinyurl.com/ywdcum4d

    Salty Snacks
    My taste buds have changed this past year, possibly due to medication or perhaps brain changes related to Alzheimer’s. I seem to crave salt and that was never the case before. While salt isn’t always ideal, I’m choosing my battles. Because grazing is often better than large meals for dementia patients, my go-to snack is Walmart’s Ultra Thin pretzels (green bag—do not get the regular thin ones). They sell out often, and you can blame me when you’re hooked.

    Carry-Everywhere Snack
    Planters Nut Lovers Mix with pistachios, almonds, and cashews. This is the most sustaining, brain-friendly snack mix I’ve found. I keep a small bag with me at all times—for blood sugar dips, infusion days, or surprise hunger. It’s hard to find locally, so I order it online.

    This list is not exhaustive and will likely grow as I continue learning what supports this season of life. If you have found a resource, product, practice, or community that has helped you or someone you love, I invite you to share it. We learn best when we learn from one another, and your experience may be exactly what someone else needs


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  • In my devotion time today with Lisa Brenninkmeyer’s writings, she mentioned the little hidden steps we take toward humility and Christ-like behavior. They are the changes we make that no one sees, yet they make us kinder and more forgiving. They are bits of will—little denials of self, little inward victories.

    My journey with Alzheimer’s in 2025 feels very similar. At first, there were big, noticeable steps: changing my diet, adding vitamins I had not normally taken, becoming much more conscious of exercise, putting legal affairs in order, and, of course, spending more time in the medical community than I ever thought I would. But as the year progressed and those things became part of my new lifestyle, it was the little changes that became more frequent—and often unnoticed.

    It’s the number of notes I write to myself, not just to remember something the next day, but to remember it in the next two seconds: a security code that has to be transferred from a text into a web page within minutes or it expires; a question I want to ask during a phone conversation while the other person is talking; remembering why I even dialed a phone number; or a note reminding myself that I already called in prescription refills so I can avoid that embarrassing conversation again. When duplicates started showing up—identical bottles of coffee creamer, a birthday gift ordered twice, enough dog food for a herd—I began keeping a written log. I set alarms to remind myself to stop and sit down to rest throughout the day so I don’t become frustrated or confused. I use phone alerts to take and log my medications, and I write down what I’ve asked my friends in hopes I don’t ask them the same thing for the umpteenth time.

    And what is probably a small thing for many people is a real biggie for me: learning to budget my energy based on what I hope to accomplish in a day. As a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, pack-as-much-into-a-day-as-possible kind of person, planning rest, meals, driving directions, or even what to wear is exhausting. Over the course of a few months, I now find myself planning the “lead-up” to time for home maintenance, sewing, writing, visiting, going to play Mahjong, grocery shopping, volunteering, or attending Bible study and appointments. Yes, some of these things could be left undone (and sometimes they are), but they are things I enjoy, things that need attention, activities that help keep my stress level down—so very important in the dementia game—or simply things I want to accomplish within this undetermined time frame I’ve been given.

    It has also become very important to me to spend more time cultivating small spiritual changes: working to be kinder and more forgiving, focusing more on gratitude, and putting greater effort into purposeful prayer. And the hardest for me—being still. The struggle continues, as I have never been a settled soul and now feel as though I am racing against the Alzheimer’s clock.

    So why am I writing all of this? It is my hope that by sharing these moments, it will help others—caregivers, friends or neighbors of dementia patients, medical professionals, and others—better understand the rather manic mind that zaps energy, spurs restlessness, or sparks anxiety or lethargy in dementia patients, even those with mild symptoms. I know it is hard to answer the same question over and over, or to understand why a loved one zones out or seems frantic about getting things accomplished, but perhaps a bit of insight will make it easier.

    My prayer tonight is one of gratitude: that I am surrounded by loved ones who accept me where I am each day. And I pray that anyone else walking this path is comforted in knowing they are not alone in feeling that these small, hidden steps can be overwhelming.

    If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts or experiences in the comments.

    My sidekick, Covi (R), and my new grandog, Tivi (L).
    Pets are wonderful wee blessings.

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  • Yesterday, I had the opportunity to speak to a support group of wonderful caregivers. The purpose of the visit was to give them a “view from the other side,” so to speak. I arrived hoping that I could offer some helpful insights. Instead, I came away blessed by their interest in my story as someone diagnosed early enough to share, by their questions, and by their words (and hugs) of encouragement. The path they are walking is so challenging, and I hope you will join me in supporting that group with your prayers each day.

    I’ll interject here that when I got back home, I was completely exhausted (in a good way), but that is part of my journey with Alzheimer’s. Activities that were once easy-breezy can now be very tiring. So, I’m learning to lean into God’s plan for me to rest, even when I want to keep going.

    After a bit of a rest, I began to think about some of the questions I was asked and decided that would be a good place for me to start with today’s blog. There were the usual questions about how I was diagnosed and about my treatment. I had the opportunity to share how my book came about and how it could be purchased. But the most difficult questions were about how my day-to-day life is affected.

    Many days it is like my brain is wading through mud. Things that used to be easy—figuring out insurance, making calls for MRIs or appointments—now seem to use up excessive amounts of brain power. I spend what feels like a crazy amount of time just figuring out how to spell simple words to write myself a sticky note! Luckily, I seem to have quite a lot of time on my hands these days, so it all works out okay.

    Speaking of phone calls (no pun intended), it is one of the most challenging tasks for me. Everyone’s Alzheimer’s symptoms are different, as the disease progresses uniquely in each person and can be influenced by factors like age, health, and personality. For someone whose mind seems to have always gone “a mile a minute” (me!), having to stop and think about the last thing said or find a lost word needed to reply, talking on the phone can be exhausting. Texting, typing, etc., allows me time to think. And yes, to answer another question asked…it is frustrating, and sadness can hit without warning. Like with many obstacles in all of our lives, there are times we question what we have to offer, if fighting is worth the effort, or where do we go from here. Luckily, I have faith that God has a plan for me, and it’s my job to “Suck it up, Buttercup” and carry on!

    But you know what? Going through this has opened my eyes to how tough it must be for kids with learning disabilities. I find myself wondering if “wading through mud” is how some of them must feel in school. It’s at this point that I take time to be grateful for teachers like my dear Stephanie, who had the patience and love to help children with special needs.

    So today’s blog isn’t just about my brain going haywire; it’s about all the times people struggle to understand and be understood. We have to shine a light on the hard-to-discuss things—Alzheimer’s, learning differences, all of it. Nobody should feel lost and alone in the dark. We need to talk about it, get it out in the open, and be there for each other.

    P.S. Hey, Friends of Marcellus…yes, I told the support group how I was coaxed into learning to play Mahjong and that you each are responsible (and probably pay the price) if I manage to regain talking at my previous mile-a-minute speed! What would I do without each of you?

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  • Since sharing my diagnosis on social media, I’ve had quite a few questions about my diagnosis, with most wanting more information about the treatment I’m undergoing. To start, I am not an expert on the diagnostic process or the treatment, so this will definitely be the bare-bones explanation. For really great information, including cute videos, charts, etc., I encourage you to visit the Leqembi or Kisunla websites.

    Amyloid plaques and tau tangles are two key pathological hallmarks of Alzheimer’s disease. Amyloid plaques are deposits of a protein called beta-amyloid that damage neurons and disrupt brain function. Tau tangles are intracellular accumulations of a protein called tau which can damage the cell’s transport system and lead to cell death. Leqembi and Kisunla both address the buildup of amyloid plaque in the brain. To date, there is no FDA-approved treatment that addresses tau tangles (but there are several in trial phases). A person with early-diagnosed Alzheimer’s can have one without the other (that’s me!) or both. While not conclusively proven, it is generally accepted that the build-up of plaque leads to tau tangles (with some researchers feeling the opposite can also occur).

    Plaque and tau can only be diagnosed with a neuro PET scan or via a spinal fluid test. My PET scan showed only amyloid plaque buildup, so I felt fortunate that my diagnosis came early enough for me to qualify for one of the FDA-approved drugs that attack plaque.

    Did you catch my “early diagnosis” statement? This is key! Amyloid buildup may begin years before you start to experience symptoms of memory and thinking issues—years! As in 15 to 20 years before issues begin, thus making early detection (and thus available treatment, diet, stress management, etc.) so very important. It is also important because the two treatments currently on the market are able to remove plaque to prevent further damage, but they do not repair the damage already done. In other words, if treatment is successful, I won’t recover what has already been lost, but I won’t progress in the disease at the rate I was going.

    It was the possibility of success in “buying time” in the disease progression that led to my decision to risk the side effect of possible ARIA (brain bleeds). It was never a debate for me. I’ve seen what this awful disease can do and was willing to take the chance on buying more time for a possible cure or even just being a part of the cycle that might help others. Six months in, and I still think it was the right decision.

    For the remainder of this post, I’ll just talk about my knowledge of Leqembi. The decision to use one of the drugs over the other was made by my doctor based on my test results. They are both proven plaque busters, but I’m only familiar with Leqembi. I travel two hours from home to see a neurologist that prescribes and monitors my Leqembi use. He found a hospital as close to my home (an hour away) as possible that has the training, etc., to administer Leqembi via infusion every two weeks. The infusion process takes about two hours and is not frightening or uncomfortable. I did have a scary reaction to the first infusion (not to the drug itself) that is now effectively controlled with a pre-med cocktail given to me about 15 minutes prior to the Leqembi.

    My dear friends take turns driving me to my treatments, and all is going well on that front. There are 36 infusion treatments in this round, and I am monitored via MRI for brain bleeds at regular intervals. The treatment and MRI schedules are set by the drug company. So far my first two MRIs have shown no bleeds (God is good!), and I’ll have my next one after my 13th infusion in December (add me to your prayer list, please!).

    I’ll end this by answering the question I get most often: How were you diagnosed? After a referral from my wonderful nurse practitioner, I met with a neurologist at Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL. He reviewed my preliminary testing, blood tests, conducted an extended visit with neuro-specific questions and tasks. A general MRI was also done. Much of this was to rule out anything that might be causing dementia symptoms. I was asked to keep a log of memory issues. In my case, this had to do with retaining new information and finding the right words (as well as getting my brain to tell my mouth how to verbalize the words). When I returned for the next visit, having exhausted all other avenues for a cause, I underwent three days of testing which included a PET scan, specialized neuro MRI, full-scale psychological battery of testing, and bloodwork.

    I’ll leave this blog with the hopes that your take-away is that there is, at long last, hope on the horizon.

    Teresa

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  • Walk with me backwards to the first months after my diagnosis. This will sound weird but somewhere between leaving Mayo and arriving at a local neurologist, apparently my Alzheimer’s diagnosis stripped me of my ability to manage my own life. That’s the only explanation I can find for the first question the four local neurologists asked as they entered the rooms for my appointments.

    Here’s the back story. I was diagnosed by a wonderful neurologist at Mayo Clinic using various neurological and neuropsychological tools (MRI, PET, etc). Because the drive between home and Mayo is four hours, I needed to find a neurologist closer to home that would prescribe Leqembi (latest infusion drug for attacking plaque). You would think this would be a simple task but I found myself on the health care merry-go-round: Beg local neurologist to take a new patient. Wait 1-2 months for the first appointment (all the while wondering “how much brain power am I losing each month”), repeat this process three more times. Each time, I was met with the question:

    Who came with you today?”
    It never failed to catch me off guard.

    Let’s see, sir, just yesterday, I was traveling for work, living independently, cooking for myself, and sticking to my new diet and medication plan entirely on my own. Sure, over the past year, there have been moments where these things took more effort, but the thought of needing someone to accompany me to a neurologist appointment about these changes never even crossed my mind.
    The polite part of me wants to believe they’re simply accustomed to ensuring Alzheimer’s patients have a caregiver present. But honestly, it felt more like a dismissal, as if my ability to recall the conversation made my input less valuable. I’ve started calling it “The Question” because it’s so consistently asked. In one instance, The Question was followed by a rapid-fire: “Who drove you here?”, “You live alone?!”, and “Is your son making plans for you to move in?”. I remember sitting there, recalling my friend Regina’s aversion to sarcasm, so I simply smiled a sweet smile and, in my most Southern, seemingly naive tone, replied, “I still drive,” “Yes, I have lived alone for most of my adult life,” and “My son and his wife are very supportive of my independence.” The fact that my rather noncommittal answers weren’t probed further confirmed my suspicion: the physician was done talking directly to me until I brought a caregiver.

    I also found that finding a forward thinking, research sauvy neurologist close to home was not going to happen. Each one refused to prescribe Leqembi. I’ll save thoughts on that topic for another post.

    To continue, I quickly realized that the Alzheimer’s medical staff and “industry” in my neck of the woods heavily focuses on caregivers. I don’t mean to diminish the crucial role caregivers play – I truly believe they are the backbone of the Alzheimer’s journey. However, there’s another perspective on patient care, one that perhaps is only now beginning to emerge with earlier diagnosis available.

    People like me who receive a diagnosis in the earlier stages, are still capable and eager to be involved in our own treatment and life plans. I want to maintain my independence and productivity for as long as possible. I crave information that will help me make caregiving easier for my family or future facility caregivers (thus creating the Empowering Me! book). I am currently responsible enough to take notes, which I can share with my family or refer back to when my memory falters. I am capable of trying to establish routines that might simplify my eventual care. I can ensure my affairs are in order, preventing surprises for my son and daughter-in-law. I can buy sticky notes in bulk to remind myself to lock the door or turn off the stove…at least until the day I forget how to read.

    I can still live independently, I can promote awareness, and I can order sticky notes in bulk from Amazon! My friend, Cathy, has told me several times a variation of “You are the most un-Alzheimer’s Alzheimer’s patient I’ve ever seen.” It makes me strive to prove her right continuously (and I’m grateful to her for that push).

    So enough of that topic for today. Thanks for reading and supporting my journey.

    Teresa

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  • In the early 90s, I fiercely challenged a New York Times journalist’s insulting claim about children raised by single mothers. My small village of family and friends proved him wrong. Now, decades later, in 2025, I face another societal silence. Like many Southern women, I was raised to avoid certain uncomfortable truths. October 1st, 2024, my pre-diagnosis of Alzheimer’s was delivered, and confirmed via many tests at Mayo Clinic in January 2025. This is my reality, not a whispered “dementia” secret that stole family memories from two of my aunts. Just as I stood up for my child and single mothers in the 90s, I will not be silent now. This is a fight I intend to wage, demanding awareness and shattering the stigma surrounding Alzheimer’s. Some things just seem to require my voice. Thank you for listening as I attempt to take you on my journey in hopes that knowledge is indeed power and that someone else is helped along the path.

    The other day a friend stated, “If I have Alzheimer’s then I don’t want to know.” While I don’t share that view, I understand where the sentiment originates. Until very recently, there has not been a way to effectively diagnose Alzheimer’s in a living patient. And honestly, there was very little to change the course of the disease progression so why find out.

    I’ve always believed that I can face anything as long as I know what I’m facing, however, in this case, I did not seek out the diagnosis; it found me. As a result of my incredible primary nurse practitioner’s care, I was undergoing cardiac testing that evolved into addressing some neurological concerns. Having had cervical surgery about twenty years ago (after a scare that was thought to be a stroke), I attributed my recent “brain fog” to that issue. MRIs, PET scans, blood work, etc., delivered a diagnosis of amyloid plaque that was leading to neuronal damage and cognitive decline. In other words, plaque was clogging up my brain in the same way a different plaque was messing with my heart.

    Early-onset Alzheimer’s.

    Wow. Didn’t see that coming. But…

    Now I know what I’m facing.

    I was very blessed to find a wonderful, caring, smart cookie of a doctor at Mayo. He delivered the diagnosis in a manner that did not result in fear but hope. He set up a course of action that included a nutrition and lifestyle coach, explained medications that might prove helpful, and told me about two antibody intravenous (IV) infusion therapies that recently received traditional FDA approval which targets and removes beta-amyloid from the brain. The trial results confirmed cognitive and functional decline in people living with early Alzheimer’s. He asked if I was interested (yes, tell me where to sign up!), explained the side effects (they are not for the faint of heart), and the journey began.

    I will save the infusion journey for another post because at this point there were many, many more pressing decisions to pray about and make (but if you are curious google lacanemab). To tell my family or not. To tell friends or not. Buy long-term care insurance or not. Update my will, assign a medical and financial power of attorney, establish a DNR, research the supplements suggested, learn to shop on the outside aisles, the ethicalness of keeping my job, the list goes on and on. The biggie? Decide to face that “dementia” stigma…opt to keep or challenge that societal silence. I guess we know what I decided on that issue.

    Thanks for reading, may God’s peace be with you today, Teresa

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  • Welcome to my blog! I’m here to share my journey with early-onset Alzheimer’s. I hope it becomes a place where others facing similar paths can find a sense of community. I also want to help friends and family better understand what it’s like to live with this disease.

    This past year, I lost two of my dearest friends, Lisa and Kelly. Lisa bravely battled ovarian cancer, and Kelly fought brain cancer. Both of them shared their experiences openly on Facebook to help educate others. I feel it is my turn, and duty, to do the same.

    So Lisa and Kelly, watch over me from above. Lisa, I need you to tell me when it is time for me to stop posting so I don’t embarrass myself! Kelly, you would be my biggest cheerleader and I already feel you cheering me on as you run on the streets of Heaven. I miss you both more than words can say.

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