Alzheimer's Stories

Is one's essence defined by the age of the body, their culture, economic status, or gender? What are we without the context of time, gender, and culture? Tara's mother underwent a metamorphosis. Mildred wore different costumes of the mind. Each costume was unique, stemming from a different time in her life and drawing upon various life experiences. Alzheimer's disease sponsored Mildred's time travel. Tara remembers Mildre...

It's not the dripping that I hear, it's just the moaning in her sleep, resting here beside me. The faucet often awakens me as well. My sleepless nights we spend together as she restively walks in mysterious dreams unknown to me. And I hear the dripping, knowing it must be fixed, but how do I repair all of the broken things in our life. All the things I have to remember. The things she has forgotten from moment to moment....

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.3:07 in the morning,The void of night after the witching hour,When the world sleepsAnd the underlings of the underworldsSteal careless soulsAnd twist them crippledBefore returning themTo wreak their mischief bolder.I draw useless nicotineTo the edge ofAnother dimension,Through my decayed, gaping maw.No effect does this earthly t...

The shrill sound of the tea pot screaming shattered Max’s reverie. He was remembering when he and Rosie met forty years ago. He looked down at the cup, breathing a deep sigh, remembering the vision of the two of them rowing down the Charles River that May morning, the night after their first date, the first of many before they married, both of them still in their senior years of college, he at Harvard, she at Radcliffe, a...

She did this every year, so the call came as no surprise. In fact, I had been expecting it for the last few days. The only surprise was that it took so long. I was sitting with my wife having our coffee after dinner when the phone rang. As I got up to answer, my wife gave me a knowing glance but did not say a word. It was as if we both knew instinctively. “Hello.” I started into the phone, “Oh, hi Mom. Yeah, I’d been expe...