Why hundreds will Walk to End Alzheimer's in Naperville

Nothing about Alzheimer's is showy or sudden.

Symptoms start slowly. A little forgetfulness, a little trouble finding the right word, a bit of difficulty recalling how to do something that should be familiar, like baking the brownies she's made for every family gathering as long as you can remember.

Symptoms progress slowly. Eventually, the disease will deteriorate the brain so much that it shuts down the body. But that could take four years, eight years, even 20 years. Before then, a loved one will pull out of conversations because she's not able to follow along. She'll become confused about time and place, maybe thinking her grown son is her late husband. She'll become suspicious of friends and family, perhaps becoming convinced she needs to climb out a window to escape when you've come to care for her.

Alzheimer's follows a long, subtle progression. Changes inch in so quietly that sufferers and caregivers may not notice their arrival.

It's only looking back that's shocking, when you realize Alzheimer's has taken its toll and left a confused, withdrawn and distrustful patient where the heart of the family used to be.

Alzheimer's has no cure and can't be stopped, though its progression can be slowed through treatment. It's the sixth leading cause of death in the United States, according to the Alzheimer's Association.

The Walk to End Alzheimer's, stepping off at 10 a.m. Sunday, Sept. 20, in Naperville, is part of the Alzheimer's Association's largest national fundraiser, supporting the organization's efforts to fund Alzheimer's research, care and support programs for patients and caregivers, and efforts to prevent dementia through brain health.

Lauren Zomparelli of Elmhurst will take part in the walk in honor of her grandmother, Marion Ryczek. Today, she tells us what it was like to watch her grandma descend into Alzheimer's.

Lauren Zomparelli

I am walking in Naperville's Walk to End Alzheimer's in honor of my grandma on the Marionettes team.

When the signs first began to show, everyone ignored them. No one wanted to face the reality that one day she would forget who we were and almost every aspect of her life. As the years passed, there was no way to escape the inevitable truth: My grandmother, the woman who always baby-sat me and profusely cleaned the kitchen and washed the floors, had Alzheimer's and there wasn't anything anyone could do to stop it.

By my senior year of high school, she couldn't be left alone. Her older sister moved in and if she went out, someone would have to stay with Grandma. It was a hard realization for my mom when weekly bingo nights came to an end, a tradition that began before I was born.

The summer I began college, my grandma couldn't feed herself, so once a week I stayed home and took care of the woman who had always taken care me. I fed her pudding and yogurt, and she would look at me with her innocent bright blue eyes.

There were times that summer when my grandma would have meltdowns. She would call my mom yelling, saying that someone — her sister — was trying to kidnap her. We would receive calls from neighbors when they saw her wandering down the street late at night.

There were times when I was across the street and heard yelling from our back porch only to find Grandma scowling at my mom because she believed she was trying to kidnap her, when she was just trying to bring her home.

Sundowning was something fierce, but I was always the one who could calm her down. Maybe it was because when she looked into my eyes, she saw the same bright blue eyes looking back at her. Whether it was calming her down to take her home or driving my crying mother to her house to settle the situation, I witnessed it all.

It was six weeks after school started that I saw my grandma lying in a hospital bed, unable to speak or open her eyes. Having witnessed her change every day, my mom didn't realize the huge change that had happened since I last saw Grandma. She no longer spoke English, just Polish.

The day her brain forgot to tell her to breathe, I was supposed to watch her, but by the time I rushed over she was gone.

Alzheimer's is harder on those close to the affected person than on the patients themselves. Watching a person you love slowly fade away and become someone you can't recognize is a brutal experience, and something I never want my children or grandchildren to have to go through with me.

I walk for my grandma and the hope to find a cure so no one has to live even one day with Alzheimer's.

Walk to End Alzheimer's

<b>Why: <b>Proceeds benefit the Alzheimer's Association efforts to fund research, care and support, as well as to promote brain health

<b>When: <b>Tribute ceremony begins at 9:30 a.m. Sunday, Sept. 20; walk starts at 10 a.m.; registration and check-in begin at 8 a.m.

<b>Where: <b>North Central College's Benedetti-Wehrli Stadium, 455 S. Brainard St., Naperville

<b>Details: <b>Walk covers 3.2 miles

<b>Cost: <b>Free, donations encouraged

<b>Info: <b><a href="http://www.alz.org/walk">alz.org/walk</a>