2004), the author reminds those who have family members with Alzheimer’s that,
Individuals who are affected by Al- zheimer’s are not their disease; they are not Alzheimer’s patients – they are people affected by Alzheimer’s disease. They are still mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, grandmother, best friend; they are still individuals capable of loving and sharing; they still need a hug and a smile…And you’ll be bet- ter able to give and receive those feelings once you become more familiar with your challenges – the human brain and the changes it can go through during this disease process.4
The advocate’s job is an extremely difficult one – to educate the jury, con- vincingly, and with expert testimony, that Alzheimer’s is no better or worse than any number of ailments which will inevitably strike substantial numbers of us when we are elderly; that Alzheimer’s is better understood when we cast aside the fear and myths associated with the disease. Aside from the minimal voir dire
permitted by most judges, you must use elicit from your witnesses, expert and non-expert, testimony which will assist the jury in discarding preconceived notions about the lost family member. What acts or interchanges demonstrated that she could still be loved, that she could still love? That his presence offered comfort to his family? Did he or she behave differently when in the presence of a family member; was he calmer, did he seem more cogent? What exchanges did the LPN witness? How did the family “communicate” even if in untraditional ways? How were staff trained to make life as dignified and meaningful as possible for the individual with Alzheimer’s or
4 Id. 18 5
other form of dementia? Laura Kessler, reporter and author of
Dancing with Rose: Finding Life in the Land of Alzheimer’s, acknowledged that she faced her own mother’s illness and death of Alzheimer’s “with a combina- tion of fear and detachment, a stunned observer, emotions shut down. I knew that big, awful events like this were supposed to be at least instructive if not life-altering. I knew I should have learned something from the experience.” After her mother’s death, she determined to gain greater insight. She worked as a resident caregiver in a “memory care”
nothing remains, about commu- nicating after words fail, about meaningful life lived in the moment, about patience and kindness will always remain with me.5
We could endlessly debate whether
loss is more easily sustained when our loved one departs suddenly or after a long struggle; but there can be little doubt that the loss is the more horrific when unnecessary, unjust. In a death case involving an elderly woman whom the defense contended would likely have soon died from illnesses unrelated to
Ending a life prematurely, wrongfully, is not the more forgiv- able because the decedent had dementia rather than heart disease, stroke, end stage renal disease, diabetes or any combination of the above.
facility for four months. During that period she learned:
The people I cared for were ill, but they were not their illness. The world they inhabited — dreamy, fragmented, often wordless, some- times confusing — was far more vivid, more alive, more deeply human than I could ever have imag- ined. I became part of their lives: Jane, energetic, gregarious, the social center of the unit; Eloise, elegant, alternately dreamy and contentious; Marianne, who created an alternate reality for herself and lived in it hap- pily and comfortably; Frances, the almost-centenarian whose senses were more alive than anyone I’d ever met; Hayes, who ping-ponged between clueless oblivion and witty repartee; Jack and Caroline, the lovebirds… The lessons I learned about what is left when you think
Essay, “Seeing Instead of Watching,” Lau- ren Kessler.
Trial Reporter
the negligent perforation of her liver, our colleague, David J. Wildberger, did not dispute this eventuality. But he re- minded jurors that she should have died in her own time -- “not then, not that way, not at the hands of man.” Ending a life prematurely, wrongfully, is not the more forgivable because the decedent had dementia rather than heart disease, stroke, end stage renal disease, diabetes or any combination of the above. Finally, we cannot ignore even the
unspoken implication that life becomes less important to one who has had the good fortune of living a long one. To the contrary, as the days “dwindle down to a precious few,”6
they are exponentially
more important. The lyrics to a song, sung by a daughter to a struggling, el- derly mother, remind her that with all the frailty and uncertainty that old age may bring, there is much to live for: Winter’s sun is not as warm, but still it gives off light.
6 Kurt Weill’s “September Song” Winter 2009
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