I  made  a  vow  that, you  know,  if  this  were  me, if  she  were  on  the  opposite  foot, that  Steve  would  take  very  good  care  of  me, and  he  would  not  lose  his  temper. But  he  didn't  have  a  temper. He  was  just  very  low  key. And  I,  on  the  other  hand, have  always  had  a  temper  and  a  lack  of  patience. But  I  made  a  vow  that  I would  never  lose  my  patience  with  him, no  matter  what.  And  I  didn't. More  than  6  million  Americans, most  aged  65  or  older,  may  have  Alzheimer's, a  brain  disorder  that  slowly destroys  memory  and  cognitive  abilities, eventually  removing  the  ability  to carry  out  even  the  simplest  task. But  this  condition  does  not just  change  the  life  of  the  patient. It  significantly  impacts  the  life  of  those  around  them. Of  these  6  million, about  80%  receive  care  at  home. The  vast  majority  of  caretakers are  the  daughters  and  wives  of  the  ill  person. Taking  on  this  role  represents a  significant  shift  in  identity  and  routine. They  must  navigate  the  meanings of  illness  just  as  much  as a  sick  person  in  order  to  provide care  and  reconcile  their  own  identity  as  caregiver. What  used  to  be  a  relationship  founded  on mutual  support  can  become  characterized  by  grief, emotional  labor,  and  the  challenges of  navigating  biographical  disruption. What  was  your  life  like  before  Alzheimer's? I'll  start  off  by  saying  before  Alzheimer's, my  mantra  to  everybody  that would  listen  was,  I  love  my  life. And  I  did.  It  was  I  was  more blessed  than  I  ever  deserved  to  be,  and  I  was  very  happy. And  I  just  I  just decided  I  was  not  going  to  acknowledge  Alzheimer's. And  if  I  didn't  acknowledge  it,  it  would  go  away. It  didn't  go  away.  I  just  felt like  if  I  don't  if  I  don't  say  anything  about  it, I  don't  see  it,  it'll  go  away. I  just  felt  like  he  was  such  a  vibrant  person. So  in  my  mind, if  he's  still  quick  witted, you  know,  he  doesn't  have  Alzheimer's. How  did  you  adjust  to  the  role  of  caretaker? I  just  think  I  took  on  a  new  identity. You  know,  my  identity  at that  point  was  the  wife  of  an  Alzheimer's  patient. And  I  kept  that  identity  until  Steve  passed. And  it  was  difficult  for  me  because  I  was, you  know,  having  to  show  him. He'd  just  give  me  the  high  beats  and, like,  I  need  help. And  if  he  did  that, I  would  try  to  figure  out  what  does  he  need  help  with. And  that's  what  I  would  I  would  do,  you  know,  Oh, you  need  to  use  your  fork,  you  know, maybe  use  a  knife  to  cut  that  meat,  you  know. How  did  your  routine  change  as you  took  on  the  role  of  caretaker? I  got  up  every  morning  at  four  to  do  what  I  could do  to  help  Steve  get  together  before  I  went  to  work. And  as  time  went  on, I  had  to  have  some  help  at  the  house,  you  know,  with  him. And  I  looked  up  on this  jewel  of  a  woman  who  her  name  was  Audrey, and  I  had  some  months where  I  had  to  get  up  extremely  early, and  I  am  not  an  early  early  morning  person  and  shave  him, help  him  brush  his  teeth, help  him  get  dressed. And  dressing  was  a  challenge. Because  when  you  got  one  arm  in  his  shirt  sleeve, then  he  would,  by  the  time  you  got  the  other  one  in, he'd  have  this  one  out  again. Same  thing  with  pants. It  will  wear  you  out. I  remember  I  was  talking  to  the  insurance  company, and  I  hung  up  the  phone  and  I  said,  I  hate  my  life. And  Steve  was  sitting  there, and  he  said,  I  don't  want  to  hear  you  say  that. And  I  burst  into tears  because  I  felt  like  I  had  let  him  down. Um,  but  I  told  him, I  said,  I  didn't  mean  it  having  to  do  with  you. I  said,  I  just  was frustrated  with  dealing  with  the  insurance  company. I  made  it  a  point  not  to say  anything  like  that  in  front  of  him, even  though  I  would  get  frustrated  and  I would  get  upset  and  I  would  get  unhappy. I  wouldn't  I  wouldn't  say  anything  in  front  of  Steve. When  did  you  realize  that  the  care that  was  needed  was  beyond  your  ability? Well,  I  think  the  final  decision  came because  I  had  spent  the  whole  night  up  with  Steve. He  was  walking. And  when  I  gave  him  a  job  to  do,  I  said, hold  on  to  this  rail  of  the  railing  top  of the  staircase  until  I can  move  the  clothes  from  the  washer  to  the  dryer. And  I  came  out  of  the  laundry  room  to  see Steve  doing  a  swan  dive  down  the  staircase. And  his  head  went  into  the  foyer  wall. That  was,  again,  one  of  the  things  that  was  like, you  know,  you  can't  keep  him  safe  at  home  anymore. And  I  could  see  that. And  I  was  worn  out. Given  your  experience  as  a  caretaker, how  would  you  define  Alzheimer's? Alzheimer's  is  a  thief. It  robs  you  of  the  people  you  love  and  your  time. Because,  I  mean,  by  right, Snoop  should  still  be  here. He  was  just  six  months  older  than  me, and  I'm  74,  he  would  have  been  75  at  this  point. And  most  75  year  olds, I  shouldn't  say  most,  but many  75  year  olds  are  still  in  the  world. So  I  miss  him. Steve  passed  away  in  2015  from pneumonia  caused  by complications  from  Alzheimer's  disease. Like  many  caregivers,  too, Linda  had  to  advocate  for  the  death  certificate to  reflect  Alzheimer's  as  the  true  cause  of  death. In  the  United  States, Alzheimer's  is  the  seventh  leading  cause  of  death. Each  year,  approximately  120,000 people  die  from  the  disease, although  the  number  is  likely  higher. Around  80%  of  Alzheimer's  patients  receive  care  at  home, most  often  from  caregivers  like  Linda, older  women  who  are  the  wives  of  patients. Currently,  over  11  million  adults  in the  United  States  provide  unpaid  care for  someone  with  dementia. This  care  relies  not  only  on the  bond  between  patient  and  caregiver, but  also  on  the  caregivers  ability  to interpret  symptoms  within  a  shared  social  context. To  do  this,  the  caretaker  must learn  to  interpret  the  meaning  of  illness, which  requires  an  understanding  of  how  symptoms are  shaped  by  larger  societal  factors. For  the  patient,  memory  decline destroys  their  sense  of  self  and  ability  to  communicate. Leaving  the  caregiver  to  manage both  their  physical  needs  and  interpret their  evolving  symptoms  is  a  form  of expression  that  goes  beyond  just  providing  medical  care. Alzheimer's  is  not  just  a  biological  condition. It  is  a  biographical  disruption. It  steals  an  individual's  identity, relationships,  and  the  planned  narrative  of  their  life. Caregivers  like  Linda  must  reconcile their  life  with  the  new  reality  of  life  with  illness. By  sharing  her  story, Linda  hopes  to  raise awareness  of  the  challenges  of  life  with Alzheimer's  and  emotional  labor and  dedication  of  the  loved  ones  affected  by  it.