Staying Connected

Retaining love amidst the loss of memory

STORY AND PHOTOS BY DANNY MILLER

Don stands impatiently gazing out his living room window toward the street in front of his house. His leather coat, folded over once, rests on the arm of the couch closest to the door. On the door, a lunch sack hangs by the handle so Don is sure to not forget it. Don doesn’t drive anymore. As a white shuttle pulls up, Don grabs his coat and exits the house to board the WTA bus headed for The Alzheimer Society of Washington office. The lunch remains on the door handle.

Don and Chandra Jansen have always known Bellingham as their home. The couple faced a new challenge in their 60 year-long-marriage when Don was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s six years ago.

One in nine Americans 65 years and older have Alzheimer’s disease, and many more experience other forms of dementia, according to the Alzheimer’s Association 2014 facts and figures. Additionally, as the average American lifespan increases with medical advances, so does the growing number of people diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. In coming years, an increase of Alzheimer’s diagnoses among the elderly is predicted, due to the influx of the baby boom generation nearing elderly status.

“I am getting better,” says Don to his bus driver one day as he commutes to his weekly class, Staying Connected, at the Alzheimer Society of Washington’s office.

“Don, you don’t get better,” responded the bus driver, “You are handling it better.”

Don sits comfortably in his living room, sipping a warm mug of coffee with his wife Chandra. Photographs of their two kids, four grandchildren, and six great grand children surround them. Remembering the story from the bus, Don repeats, “I am not getting better, I am handling it better.”

Don, 80, and Chandra, 79, both attended Bellingham High School but began dating while in college at Washington State University. The house where Don and Chandra have lived all of their married life is about a block away from where Don grew up. In his Staying Connected class, Don responds to a question about a place that he would like to visit. “I can’t think of any other place I would love to be [other than Bellingham],” Don says. Don taught mathematics for 30 years as well as coached cross-country, he ended his teaching career at Sehome High School.

THE GROUP

The Alzheimer Society of Washington is an independent nonprofit serving Whatcom and Skagit Counties by providing education and support services to diagnosed patients and caregivers. Don arrives at the Staying Connected class every Wednesday greeted with welcoming smiles and supportive energy. The organization wants everyone to feel accepted and welcome as soon as they step in the door, says Leslie Jackson, regional educational coordinator for the Alzheimer’s Society of Washington.

The social connections are incredibly beneficial for those diagnosed, explains Kathy Sitker, executive director of Alzheimer’s Society of Washington. “We need the sensory interactions — we need that as humans,” she says. The disease is difficult, Sitker explains. “Your loved one is not the same person anymore,” Sitker says, who dealt personally with her father’s memory decline after an Alzheimer’s diagnoses. As memories fade, relationships can change, but expression of emotion and connection in the support groups provides an outlet for navigating that change, Jackson explains.

Jackson leads the Staying Connected group every Wednesday. On this particular Wednesday, Jackson begins the meeting with a conversation starting question — what does this group mean to you?

“I was afraid of other people [after the Alzheimer’s diagnosis], but these people will hold a spot in my life that’s important,” one woman responds. Another member chimes in, “It’s the most important thing in my life — it’s enormously helpful.”

THE DIAGNOSIS

There were early warning signs, Chandra explains. Abrupt confusion and sudden silence were among early signs that Don was not acting the same. “We have acknowledged it from day one,” Chandra says “A lot of people don’t want to accept it — as we get older we all have a problem with our memory, so they don’t want to get into it.” They won’t openly recognize it even if it is diagnosed,” she says. The class, Staying Connected, as well as the caregiver’s support group, were an important outlet for Don and Chandra to begin navigating the challenging path following Don’s diagnosis.

For Don, certain tasks are becoming difficult. But, his optimism often triumphs the difficulty. There are certain ways Don helps himself to remember. “Two pennies in my coat,” he says. Chandra chimes in to help Don explain. After mistakenly grabbing other people’s coats, Don keeps two pennies in his coat to always identify it as his own.

Chandra explains that Don used to worry about things in the future — and now he doesn’t. Don lives in the moment, focusing on each day at a time. “I can’t look too far in the future, and I can’t worry about it — I know what’s coming,” Don says.

Don and Chandra go grocery shopping about once a week. “He used to hate shopping,” Chandra says. Now, it is something Don will look forward to.

“F2,” Don says to himself as they walk into the store. The “F” in “Fred Meyer” and the “2” signifies the second spot back in the parking lot. That is how Don remembers where they parked. Although Don does not drive anymore, he enjoys remembering where they parked after shopping with Chandra. Don grabs the cart as soon as he enters and tails Chandra down each aisle. Don will go to the flower section. There, he picks out flowers for Chandra. “I am never surprised, because we always check out of the store together,” Chandra laughs. After checking out, they depart to F2 and then Chandra drives them back home.

THE LOVE

“If that’s the hand we are dealt, then we might as well accept it and live with it,” Chandra says. But it is not an easy path — both Sitker and Jackson understand this well, having connected with and cared for the people that have attended their meetings and services. “I know that these people I have grown to love and care for, they are not going to survive this disease — we lose friends,” Sitker says.

Don is still able to handle everyday despite his declining memory. Like a math equation, Don focuses on each step at a time. He knows what is important right now. “I know I cannot drive,” he says. “I know my classes are important.” One story Don likes to tell is about putting on his hip boots he uses for yard work. “One morning I couldn’t figure out how to put the damn things on so I cut them,” he says. “Sometimes you just have to figure it out,” Don says — so you can slip them on and walk out the door.