The flat drone of the motorcycle engine reflects my world; bland and unchanging. I’ve been riding for days. Or is it years? Time is meaningless and the days pass unmarked as one night is spent in a bedroll beneath a tree and the next in a fleabag motel, mostly for the shower, because I sleep on the floor, never trusting the beds.
Days bleed into weeks bleed into months. The emptiness is my only companion.
The wind tugs at my jacket as the vibration through the grips begins to put my hands to sleep again. But I shake it off, ignore it, and ride on.
I tell myself that I don’t feel the loneliness anymore, but in truth it’s become my friend. My only friend. I talk to it constantly. Ever since I stopped talking to her. She’s not here to talk to. She’s not here anymore. Only her memory remains, and the loneliness it brings.
So, I talk to the loneliness. I barely mumble to the waiters at the roadside diners. I nod to motel clerks and slide them the cash. But I talk to the loneliness nonstop. My voice echoes inside my helmet as the road drones on and I talk nonstop, mile after mile, day after day, to the loneliness. To the emptiness…
Little wonder I barely sleep. The dream waits for me to close my eyes. Like a predator, this dream and one other, more terrifying by far, but profound in its empathy.
So I read, I nap, and I watch her in her sleep. The one medication she’s on has the predicted side effect of making her pop her jaw and clack her teeth endlessly as she slumbers. It doesn’t bother me anymore; at least I don’t have to listen for her breath to ensure she’s still with me.
Last March, my wife was diagnosed with acute, early onset Alzheimer’s Dementia. At that point she was approximately at Stage 4 on the 7 Stages of Dementia. On average, Stage 4 lasts 2-2.5 years. Just over 6 months later, she’s deep into stage 5 and showing strong symptoms of stage 6. She’s progressed approximately 4 years in that time.
In short, dementia is storming through her mind like the nazis through Europe.
This is officially a terminal diagnosis. Upon committing it to paper, her doctor avoided those words, but he did lay it on nice and thick “We’ll be here fighting with you all the way to the end”.
Yeah, fuck that. End? She’s 58 fucking years old (then), and we’re supposed to accept this? Yeah, No.
Obviously, I’ve been researching countless options. In this, the internet age, there are as many “cures” as there are governmental/alien conspiracies and the tinfoil hats who espouse them. Sorting through the myriad metric tonnes of false flags and downright kooks to find the gems is no small task, and I’m no professional researcher.
Here is where I send an anonymous and immensely grateful shout out to the manager/owner of a local in-home care service. I’ll call him Tim (NOT his real name), if only because I’m not recommending his service. What I am doing is thanking him in the only way I know how for pointing me at a certain doctor’s YouTube videos. I don’t know the whole story, but Tim’s dad passed from Alzheimer’s and he found this when researching for him.
This is the journey you’re joining me on. In a few weeks, we travel to Savannah, Georgia for assessment and to begin treatment.
The medical community will eventually be forced to recognize that Alzheimer’s and many other “diseases” don’t and won’t respond to a single, one-size-fits-all approach. The human body must be treated as a single, enormously complex unit, and the entire biome treated and cured rather than simply attacking the symptom. Alzheimer’s has too many root causes and most patients are victim of several of these (at least).
The science has been done. Recovery happens, and it is going to happen for us.
Our goal here is threefold:
1) To undergo an as-yet officially unrecognized (but thus far very promising) treatment and to recover completely from this “terminal” diagnosis.
2) To open the eyes of victims of this terrifying disease to the concept that, well-meaning as they may be, most doctors only do as they’re taught, and they’re taught that Alzheimer’s is unquestionably fatal and untreatable. This hidebound thinking is false and costs lives every day. Don’t let your life or the life of a loved one be another statistic. Follow this journey to learn the truth of it.
3) To hopefully be one factor in convincing the medical establishment to take alternative, non-narcotic treatments seriously. Great resistance to this concept is inevitable, not least from the pharmaceutical industry.
This is the mission. First, we must prove the efficacy of the treatment protocol we’re to begin soon. In the interim, I’ll be providing background and bringing you up-to-date on all of her medical issues and what led us to where we are today.
I hope you’ll join us. Comments and input are always welcome, of course, and I hope you’ll subscribe to the blog as well as follow it on Facebook.