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My
Grandma Ruth, Alzheimer's, and Stem Cell Research
July 25, 2001
by
Modem Butterfly
An open letter to Mr. Bush:
I'd like to tell you about my Grandma Ruth. Grandma Ruth
was a bright, patient woman with dancing blue eyes and soft
skin that always smelled faintly of baby powder and rose water.
She had soft skin and was a brilliant seamstress, artist,
gardener, carpenter, and cook. She passed her talent for working
with her hands to my mother, who went to art school and took
up home remodeling as a hobby. She learned these things at
her mother's knee, since Grandma Ruth had helped my Grandpa
Al to build their house from the ground up.
Of course, I never got to know this side of Grandma Ruth.
My earliest memories of her are as a sweet lady who seemed
to have a lot of nervous habits. She was always tapping her
foot, shaking her head, or dropping things due to her inability
to hold her hands still. She had given up on drawing and painting
and by the time I was eight, she was no longer able to sew.
Still, she was a kind woman who knew how to tell a good story
and she was incredibly patient with all of her eight grandchildren.
She would take us shopping for adult clothes at Salvation
Army so we could play dress-up. She refurbished several bicycles
and tricycles so we would have things to play with at her
house. She would talk Grandpa into demonstrating the Texas
Two-Step and the Tennessee Waltz to their old country records.
I don't' ever remember her getting angry or depressed, though
I now know she certainly had a right to. You see, about the
time I was born, Grandma Ruth was diagnosed with Parkinson's
disease. Ten years later, she would be diagnosed with Alzheimer's.
After my grandpa's death, Grandma's health took a turn for
the worse. Alzheimer's made it difficult to keep up with her
medicine, or even to take care of herself. Grandma Ruth came
to live with us when I was about ten years old. Since my mother
had to work, I became her first primary caretaker, and she
became my baby-sitter. She would make sure that I came home
from school safe and was working on my homework. I would make
sure she had taken her pills. Our relationship slowly changed.
Gradually I became responsible for helping her get dressed,
helping her bathe, helping her eat. When my parents weren't
at work, they took over. Grandma Ruth stopped recognizing
me. She had regressed from being a capable, independent woman
to an infant. During her lucid moments, she would beg my mother
to help her die. When she tried to take matters into her own
hands, we knew that we could no longer care for her at home.
Grandma Ruth died of Alzheimer's when I was sixteen. She
did not die peacefully. When Alzheimer's kills, it starts
with memories and progresses to bodily functions. In the end,
my grandma died because she could no longer swallow. She lingered
for seven days. She weighed 72 pounds at the time of her death.
The doctor told us we were extremely fortunate because she
had a few final moments of lucidity before she died. She thanked
my mother for letting her go. She called me by my name for
the first time in years and said she loved me. The doctor
told us that most families of Alzheimer's patients aren't
that fortunate. No matter how many times I think about the
day she died, "fortunate" is not a word that comes to mind.
Alzheimer's deprived my family of Grandma Ruth, but it took
so much more away from us. I lost my childhood to Alzheimer's,
because I needed to grow up fast to deal with her illness.
My brother and I lost our mother to Alzheimer's, because the
pain and guilt she felt over my grandmother's illness and
death drove her into a dark, persistent depression that didn't
lift until I was in my early twenties. My parents lost their
retirement because of her medical expenses. My father lost
his health because of the sixteen hours a day he and my mother
had to work to help pay her medical expenses.
I don't envy the position the stem cell research debate has
put you in, Mr. Bush. I know that you find yourself locked
between science and sentiment. I know that there are many
persuasive voices urging you to protect the potential lives
of embryos. However, in the balance are the lives of millions
of actual, living human beings who are dependent on this research
to give them health and hope, people who suffer from Parkinson's,
Alzheimer's, diabetes, MS, cancer and other diseases. I'm
writing this to not only remind you of them, but of their
families as well. You see, when one family member suffers
a debilitating or terminal disease, the rest of the family
suffers right along with them. Withholding this research will
not only be a death sentence for those with terminal illness,
it will also be a cruel blow against their loved ones. Just
as no one truly lives alone, no one truly dies alone. When
you consider the potential human beings that would be affected
by stem cell research, please don't forget the actual human
beings who have waited so long and endured so much in the
hope of a cure or a treatment for ourselves and our loved
ones. Please don't take away our right to life.
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