Jacqueline Schwartz English 393-W-20 Professor Webster Research Poem 1/22/13 Neuron Forest Its as if youre reading a book

and someone has torn the pages out. It was one of the worse days, people say there are good ones and bad ones. Before he transferred into the nursing home, instead, trapped in an insane ward to receive electro shock treatment seizures induced into his brain for therapy. They thought he was depressed. Psychiatric hospital is the correct term. Filled with curved surfaces, sharp edges prohibited, no hooks, only ones that retract, small windows, permanently sealed to the outside world, fuzzy socks, in absurd pastel colors ankle high with adhesive circles on the bottom, and residents, even young adults, staring at you questioning why someone normal is in here. Fifteen and scared. Some scary things happen, like not remembering my name. The neuron forest in Normans brain is slowly, or rapidly, being destroyed. One hundred trillion points. The signals of electric charges between synapses are being disrupted which lessens the activity of neurotransmitters leading to nerve cell death and tissue loss. A build-up of clustered amyloid protein plaque and neurofibrillary tangles

cause inconsistent memories, thoughts, and feelings. I am much more than just my diagnosis. I cant stop looking at his hands. Tense and curled stuck in unnatural positions jerking subconsciously. Those large beautiful wrinkled hands that held me facing out to the world to stop me from crying, the hands that painlessly pulled out my loose teeth. Now all that can be seen is the cracked bleeding, the line of dirt resting under his nails, the irritated cuticles, and the large bruise spots from his persistent anxious biting. His brain is shrinking and shriveling up like fingertips submerged in water. I wonder if there is anything for me to live for. My grandpa used to be incredibly smart. Programmer, engineered coder, debugger five computer screens in one office. Navigating, processing, manipulating his nerve branches mimicking the brain of a computer. Now, he just worries like a track set to repeat, Wheres your dad? Can I go back to sleep? Annette, I want to watch TV. eyebrows frowning, Wheres your dad? I need to lay down. Where am I? face twitching, Wheres your dad? I feel stupid. Whats wrong with me? eyes panicking. I was an editor and I cant even spell anymore. I wonder if they know its happening, I sense myself in a dream. I want to scream, get up, and walk out to find where I belong. if they can feel their memory and identity slipping away, Ive hoped for a long time for God to take me so I could be freed from this mixed up feeling.

if they long for clarity, death, It isnt death, its the loss of oneself while youre still alive. or if they are utterly and happily oblivious. Im a little boy now. Its as if Norman is a little boy that I never knew. This immense dominant male presence withdrawing, deteriorating into a helpless being. I can sense him falling into the traps of his brain, diminishing into simpler moments and perceptions. This brings you back down to the basics in life, a smile makes you happy. His reaction to my visits look at my beautiful sweetie pie, Ive missed you! Strange, it is somehow peaceful. I am still here.

Bibliography "Alzheimer's Disease and Dementia." Alzheimer's Association. Web. 16 Jan. 2013. <http://www.alz.org/>. Smoller, Esther Strauss. I Can't Remember: Family Stories of Alzheimer's Disease. Philadelphia, PA: Temple UP, 1997. Print. Snyder, Lisa. Speaking Our Minds: Personal Reflections from Individuals with Alzheimer's. New York, NY: W.H. Freeman, 1999. Print. Post, Stephen Garrard. The Moral Challenge of Alzheimer Disease. Second Edition. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins UP, 1995. Print.