My Grandfather My Champion

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Alzheimer's ...for caregivers

My Grandfather, My Champion!
by Christopher Trojanovich

I spent the first twenty years of my life looking up to my grandfather Stanley. He was a strong man. He made me feel safe no matter where I was. Nothing was too big for him to handle, to protect me from. He did what was best for me and never let anything or anyone take advantage of me. He was my role model. In my first college year, I still thought he was invincible, long after I had given up on Santa Claus and the tooth fairy.

I spent every summer with him and he taught me right from wrong. Taught me manners, and respect. I shared my deepest feelings with him and looked to him for guidance.

Slowly at first, things did not seem right. Stanley would do things you wouldn't expect. He'd forget things and act absent mindedly. Everyone said it was just old age and nothing to worry about. Those that were closest couldn't see the early changes, but I hadn't seen my grandfather in about six months, and when I did, I noticed the change in him. Alzheimer's took its toll quickly, the plateaus not lasting years but only months.

My first feelings were of sadness and fear. The man that had protected me since I was born, who had taught me about life, could no longer protect himself. He needed my protection and my guidance. Alzheimer's left a continuous look of fear in his eyes. I wanted to comfort him, tell him it was O.K., but nothing we said or tired put him at ease. My champion was slowly and in a most disturbing way being destroyed and there was nothing I could do about it.

On television and in the papers, all I had seen of Alzheimer's was the very early stages; the forgetting of a meeting, or of where the care keys were. I heard the jokes in school when someone forgot something. "Hey you got Alzheimer's or something?" No one told me about the episodes of uncharacteristic hitting and violence. Nothing prepared me to deal with my grandfather wanting to go home when he already was. Walking in New York City, my grandfather taught me who not to mess with and when to keep my mouth shut. Now, he was not keeping his mouth shut and he was confronting the very people he had taught me to watch my step with. Many times, I feared that we were not going to make it home. My grandfather also had panic attacks, which I did not know how to handle. It was hard trying to reason with someone living in another world.

A lot of innocence I still felt for life was taken by watching the cruelty with which the disease affected my grandfather and his family as we watched the looks of fear and despair in my grandfather's eyes, the look on his face when he stumbled or fell. And, our wondering if he was trying to communicate but couldn't, wondering what his eyes and ears were telling him. All of a sudden, life changes for the caregiver forever. This is one heck of a traumatic experience for anyone involved to go through.

After Stanley died, I felt guilty. I wished I had spent more time with him. I wished I had no tried to get my brother or sister to watch him when I did not feel like it. This man selflessly put up with me for over twenty years and I wished that I had given my best

~*~

Post Script:

But, he did give his best. All three of my children gave their time, their regard, their love and devotion to their grandfather, who was also my father. I was proud of how unselfishly they gave of themselves and how they belied the perception that exists about teenagers being so self-absorbed that they can't see the realities life imposes on families. I have more faith in this new generation, having watched by own children rise to the occasion of meeting the needs of my father when he needed them.

Irene Trojanovich,

Former Chair, Community Elder Care Coalition of Boulder County.

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