Charity Spotlight: Alzheimer's Association
River City Rising
The most meaningful gifts sometimes come in the smallest of packages. This was my sentiment when I entered the quaint offices of the Alzheimer’s Association in Memphis and was most certainly so after I left. It didn’t take long to register that those who work here do so with hearts and purpose so big their impact extends far beyond the office’s walls, into much of our community. And the reasons behind their drive to find a cure for Alzheimer’s are not simply rooted in the job descriptions given them. They go much deeper, having grown from personal experiences with a disease that many still do not understand though most know someone affected by it.
Laura Beth Davis, Manager of Development, explains how both her general perspectives and approach to motherhood were influenced after watching a young woman’s life be forever altered when her mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She saw the drastic changes that occurred when the role of caretaker was unexpectedly reversed and ponders that life had come nearly full circle, perhaps too soon, for this young woman in her mid-20’s attending graduate school and planning a wedding. Situations such as these that show life’s fragility helped Laura Beth grow in patience, an attribute for which she is grateful as mother to a young son. “This thing is messy and tough,” she says of Alzheimer’s and reflects that learning how to deal with something carrying those connotations strengthens those who must unfailingly do so.
Laura Beth Davis, Manager of Development, explains how both her general perspectives and approach to motherhood were influenced after watching a young woman’s life be forever altered when her mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She saw the drastic changes that occurred when the role of caretaker was unexpectedly reversed and ponders that life had come nearly full circle, perhaps too soon, for this young woman in her mid-20’s attending graduate school and planning a wedding. Situations such as these that show life’s fragility helped Laura Beth grow in patience, an attribute for which she is grateful as mother to a young son. “This thing is messy and tough,” she says of Alzheimer’s and reflects that learning how to deal with something carrying those connotations strengthens those who must unfailingly do so.
Before stepping into her current role as Manager of Programs and Education with the Alzheimer’s Association, Miriam Clay wasn’t sure of what her next career move would be. But she was sure she needed to have a passion for it. “I want to wake up (every day) and make a positive impact,” she says with an honesty that is transparent through her smile. Embracing her new position was bittersweet. While she would be part of a movement whose purpose was to prolong lives she would also be continually reminded of the life that was lost less than eighteen months prior- her grandmother’s.
Miriam shares the private, and painful, experience that caused her to view those living with the disease through a different lens. Her grandmother had begun to say very unkind things to her; things that had never before been said. As the hurt enveloped Miriam she sought comfort from her mother. It was in this pivotal moment that a shift in her attitude (and approach) towards the disease took place. “My mother asked me which one I wanted to accept, the Alzheimer’s or the behavior.” She accepted the Alzheimer’s and a little over a year later accepted her calling to make a difference in the lives of others also affected by the disease.
The Alzheimer’s Association’s office in Memphis is more than part of its regional hub for fundraising (it is the largest funder of Alzheimer’s research outside of the Chinese and United States governments.) This office is a place to which people come searching for answers and seeking solace when the effects of caring for someone with Alzheimer’s makes both appear out of reach. It is the place where a man sits across from a complete stranger and sobs uncontrollably about their shared commonality: he, too, is a stranger- to his own mother. He cannot reason with her, he tells Miriam, and asks if she would please write down what he could or should say in those moments of deepest distress.
“I can write down what to say but no, you cannot reason with her,” Miriam explains to him empathetically. He puts his head in his hands and just cries.
Conversations such as these push Miriam every day to press on. The stories and circumstances shared with her from those who walk in filled with grief and confusion keep her from giving up on the cure that has not yet been found. On the hardest days of this messy, tough fight against Alzheimer’s a small piece of wooden art that sits on Miriam’s desk beckons her to do just one thing. Believe. For those of us whose lives are somehow tied to this fight, too (my uncle has the disease) we must do the same.
Believe.
Miriam shares the private, and painful, experience that caused her to view those living with the disease through a different lens. Her grandmother had begun to say very unkind things to her; things that had never before been said. As the hurt enveloped Miriam she sought comfort from her mother. It was in this pivotal moment that a shift in her attitude (and approach) towards the disease took place. “My mother asked me which one I wanted to accept, the Alzheimer’s or the behavior.” She accepted the Alzheimer’s and a little over a year later accepted her calling to make a difference in the lives of others also affected by the disease.
The Alzheimer’s Association’s office in Memphis is more than part of its regional hub for fundraising (it is the largest funder of Alzheimer’s research outside of the Chinese and United States governments.) This office is a place to which people come searching for answers and seeking solace when the effects of caring for someone with Alzheimer’s makes both appear out of reach. It is the place where a man sits across from a complete stranger and sobs uncontrollably about their shared commonality: he, too, is a stranger- to his own mother. He cannot reason with her, he tells Miriam, and asks if she would please write down what he could or should say in those moments of deepest distress.
“I can write down what to say but no, you cannot reason with her,” Miriam explains to him empathetically. He puts his head in his hands and just cries.
Conversations such as these push Miriam every day to press on. The stories and circumstances shared with her from those who walk in filled with grief and confusion keep her from giving up on the cure that has not yet been found. On the hardest days of this messy, tough fight against Alzheimer’s a small piece of wooden art that sits on Miriam’s desk beckons her to do just one thing. Believe. For those of us whose lives are somehow tied to this fight, too (my uncle has the disease) we must do the same.
Believe.