For nearly 7 years I watched my father decline from Alzheimer’s. It was perhaps the most difficult journey I’ve ever taken. My book, My Father’s Brain, is a memoir of my relationship with my father as he succumbed to his disease, but it is also a scientific and historical inquiry into the fragility of the brain. In the book, I set my father’s descent into dementia alongside my own journey, as a doctor, writer, and son, toward understanding this mysterious and devastating disease.
I wrote
My Father's Brain: Life in the Shadow of Alzheimer's
Corkin, a research psychologist, presents a fascinating case study of her patient, Henry Molaison, a man with no memory. Molaison—or H.M., as he was known in the scientific literature until his death in 2008—was a 27-year-old with severe epilepsy when he underwent radical brain surgery in 1953 to cure his intractable seizures.
Though Molaison’s seizures largely abated after the operation, he developed an even bigger problem, which manifested almost immediately after his surgery. Daily events vanished from his mind almost as soon as they had occurred.
Like most patients living with dementia, he could form no new long-term memories. With no new memories, he lived in a perpetual present, disconnected from his past (or at least the past after his surgery) and his future.
In 1953, 27-year-old Henry Gustave Molaison underwent an experimental psychosurgical" procedure,a targeted lobotomy,in an effort to alleviate his debilitating epilepsy. The outcome was unexpected,when Henry awoke, he could no longer form new memories, and for the rest of his life would be trapped in the moment. But Henry's tragedy would prove a gift to humanity. As renowned neuroscientist Suzanne Corkin explains in Permanent Present Tense , she and her colleagues brought to light the sharp contrast between Henry's crippling memory impairment and his preserved intellect. This new insight that the capacity for remembering is housed in a specific brain area…
A British neuroscientist, Jebelli travels around the world to discover the latest in dementia research.
He goes to Papua New Guinea, Japan, India, and China to learn about experimental (but mostly futile) treatments, including stem cells, blood transfusions and repurposed cancer drugs.
In the end, he acknowledges how little medicine currently has to offer patients living with dementia, even as he holds out hope (far-fetched, in my view) for a cure in 10 years.
For readers of Atul Gawande, Siddhartha Mukherjee, and Henry Marsh, a riveting, gorgeously written biography of one of history's most fascinating and confounding diseases -- Alzheimer's -- from its discovery more than 100 years ago to today's race towards a cure.
Alzheimer's is the great global epidemic of our time, affecting millions worldwide -- there are more than 5 million people diagnosed in the US alone. And as our population ages, scientists are working against the clock to find a cure.
Neuroscientist Joseph Jebelli is among them. His beloved grandfather had Alzheimer's and now he's written the book he needed…
Swinton, chair in divinity and religious studies at the University of Aberdeen, focuses on the ways the standard model of dementia, which views the disease almost exclusively as a consequence of brain damage, is incomplete.
Patients with dementia, Swinton notes, can have varying degrees of brain damage. Some whose autopsies revealed significant damage manifested little clinical impairment while alive. Others with only minor neuropathology had full-blown symptoms.
Therefore, Swinton argues, it is clear that social environments, through implicit messaging or explicit neglect, worsen the demented condition. What is called for is an approach based on respect and dignity.
Dementia is one of the most feared diseases in Western society today. Some have even gone so far as to suggest euthanasia as a solution to the perceived indignity of memory loss and the disorientation that accompanies it.
In this book John Swinton develops a practical theology of dementia for caregivers, people with dementia, ministers, hospital chaplains, and medical practitioners as he explores two primary questions:
Who am I when I've forgotten who I am?
What does it mean to love God and be loved by God when I have forgotten who God is? Offering compassionate and carefully considered theological…
Thomas’s 2015 novel revolves around Eileen Leary, a tough Irish American nurse yearning to break the middle-class mold in which her life is set when her husband, Ed, a neuroscientist, develops early-onset Alzheimer’s.
Thomas describes his slow deterioration and the ravages inflicted on Eileen and their son, Connell, in drawn-out moments and exquisite detail. In an especially harrowing scene, Eileen stays up all night watching her once brilliant husband struggle with the simple task of tabulating the final grades in his community college class.
Though the narrative sometimes gets bogged down in minutiae, it is as unsparing an account of Alzheimer’s as I have ever read.
SHORTLISTED FOR THE JAMES TAIT BLACK PRIZE LONGLISTED FOR THE GUARDIAN FIRST BOOK AWARD NOMINATED FOR THE FOLIO PRIZE NAMED A NOTABLE BOOK OF THE YEAR BY THE NEW YORK TIMES
A stunning, heartbreaking debut - 'We Are Not Ourselves' is both the intimate story of a family and an epic of the American Century.
Eileen Leary wants more. Raised in a downtrodden area of new York by hard-drinking, Irish immigrant parents, she dreams of another life: a better job, a bigger house, more respectable friends, a happy family. When she meets Ed Leary, a brilliant young scientist, she thinks…
In Scar Tissue, a 1993 Booker Prize finalist, an unnamed narrator gives a first-person account of the precipitous decline of his mother from dementia (though her condition is never explicitly named).
“She remembers captions of New Yorker cartoons,” he says, lamenting that “it is what happened five minutes ago that is slipping away.” It is a predicament with which dementia caregivers are all too familiar.
Yet, despite his mother’s descent into oblivion, the narrator insists she be treated with dignity. “You keep telling me what has been lost,” he tells her neurologist, “and I keep telling you something remains.”
Chronicles one woman's descent into Alzheimer's disease and her sons' painful witness to the tragedy, which is enhanced by their careers in philosophy and neurology and by strengthened family bonds
A deeply affecting memoir of a father's descent into dementia, and a revelatory inquiry into why the human brain degenerates with age and what we can do about it.
I once saw a play at the renowned Oregon Shakespeare Theatre. A play about Sor Juana. It was a good play, but it felt like something was missing like jalapenos left out of enchiladas. The play kept nudging me to look further to find Sor Juana, and so for the next five years, I did so. I read and read more. I listened for her voice, and that is where I heard her life come alive. This isn’t the only possibility for Sor Juana’s life; it is just the one I heard.
Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, this brilliant 17th century nun flew through Mexico City on the breeze of poetry and philosophy. She met with princes of the Church, and with the royalty of Spain and Mexico. Then she met a stunning, powerful woman with lavender eyes, la Vicereine Maria Louisa, and her life changed forever. As her fame grew, she dared to challenge the diabolical Archbishop once too often, and he threw her in front of the Inquisition, where she stood, alone.
Sor Juana's work is studied still today, and justifiably so. Scholars study her months on end; mystics…
This astonishingly brilliant 17th century poet and dramatist, this nun, flew through Mexico City on wings of inspiration. Having no dowry, she chose the life of a nun so that she might learn, so that she might write, so that she might meet the most fascinating people of the western world. She accomplished all of that, and more.
One day a woman with violet eyes, eyes the color of passion flowers, entered her life. It was the new Vicereine, Maria Luisa. As the two most powerful women in Mexico City, the bond between them crossed politics and wound them in…
