Louise
1. Give me a buzz cut. I hate that neglected matted hair look. Then let me wear gold hoops in my ears, the size of nickels. It’s a good look for a demented woman.
2. Buy me an identity bracelet that says, “Memory loss with my address and phone number on it. Do this BEFORE I go wandering off.
3. Take me for walks and rides. I will still like that. I may need a cane for balance.
4. When I can’t follow books anymore, try movies. When I can’t follow movies try cartoons or Animal Planet. Make me a video of each member of the family talking about him/herself as in, “Hi Grandma, it’s Maxwell your favorite grandson. I’m the one who likes to draw maps of made-up worlds.” Have me do one too. I’ll watch it over and over.
5. Read me THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS and WINNIE THE POOH.
6. Take me to the dermatologist once in awhile to have me scraped and have ugly skin tags removed. I have good insurance. It will cost nothing.
7. Could I have my eyebrows waxed sometimes. It’s $8 bucks at Supercuts.
8. Clip my fingernails short and don’t paint them. Let a professional do the toenails.
9. I need two footpads in my right shoe. (That leg is shorter than the other). Don’t bother with anything but athletic shoes. (Red hightops?)
10. Remember I won’t be able to follow a conversation if there’s a lot of distractions around.
11. Don’t quiz me or test me all the time as if my cognitive skills will improve. They won’t.
12. If I’m loud and foul: sedate me.
13. Don’t let them treat me for pneumonia. Let me die.
14. Don’t allow strangers to overwhelm me.
15. Let me sleep in. What does it matter?
16. Please don’t leave me in a wheelchair all day. I like to put my feet up.
17. Don’t forget to treat my anxiety, sleeplessness and pain.
18. I want my bed next to a window.
19. Let me hold a baby.
20. Don’t forget to hug me.
21. Remember I wear reading glasses. Clean them once in awhile.
22. Don’t feel guilty. I mean it. Do what you can and forget it. Sell everything and put me in a home. Don’t feel guilty. It’s completely useless. Don’t feel guilty. I loved you when I was in my right mind; I’ll love you when I am in my right mind again. Don’t feel guilty when you can hardly stand the sight of me. It happens.
22 comments
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April 2, 2009 at 7:21 am
Mehrsa
Wow. That’s all. This is both beautiful and hilarious. The first one had me laughing out loud and now I am choked up. Thanks for that.
April 2, 2009 at 8:33 am
smylies
So now I’m having images of you with a buzz cut, gold earrings, red high-tops, a bracelet, wandering down Bangerter highway.
I love you then too.
April 2, 2009 at 9:44 am
nakiru
May we all have your grace and aplomb as we approach old age.
April 2, 2009 at 9:59 am
Kahalia
As always Louise classy and classic.
April 2, 2009 at 11:32 am
Emily
I shared this in my google reader. Its that good.
April 2, 2009 at 11:37 am
Sarie
I wish I was that sure of things. You’re amazing, Louise.
April 2, 2009 at 11:57 am
lisapiorczynski
When I get married, I’m going to forward this post to my husband.
But I’ll add number 23:
Buy me really nice-looking fake plants and a hot-pink plastic watering can. (I’ve always wanted to be good at gardening.)
April 2, 2009 at 12:43 pm
Tiffany Lewis
Louise, this is all so painfully funny and true.
BTW, just gave birth to baby boy #4. Boys keep you young into old age, right? Please tell me so.
April 2, 2009 at 1:57 pm
Louise Plummer
Tiffany, four boys is fantastic. I loved having my boys. Now that they’re men, I love them even more. Congratulations. Whoopty doo!
April 2, 2009 at 2:08 pm
Emily S.
I expect to die long before I get Alzheimer’s. But I don’t know what I’ll do if Plan A fails.
April 2, 2009 at 7:57 pm
AnnaBeth
This is the best, most thoughtful excerpt of a living will ever. Blogs are legal documents, right?
April 2, 2009 at 9:40 pm
Erin
I I think there is an upside to having Alzheimer’s disease: you can wrap your own Christmas gifts and hide your own easter eggs.
LHow we live depends upon the lenses we see it through. Yours are more clear than most, and clarity in your youth will carry your through the fogginess of old age.
I am quiet most days I read your blog, I had to speak up on this one.
April 2, 2009 at 9:44 pm
Erin
ignore that extra L. I don’t know why it is there. Also, I meant “life” not “it”
And that, ladies and gents, is why I keep my comments to myself…
I am wondering, however, why you chose to write about this today. What happened that got you thinking about Alzheimer’s, Louise?
April 2, 2009 at 9:52 pm
sunny
I am sending this to everyone I know. And keeping a copy for myself. This post was at once funny and thoughtful and happy and sad.
April 3, 2009 at 12:42 am
missy
What is it this week? I feel like the posts have just been stellar. My brother Juice and I just talked about this one over frozen yogurt. Is it so lame to say that this is my favorite Louise-post on this blog?
Regardless, I think my favorite is the video-one of each child and grandchild. Made me smile and nod and think I would want the same.
April 3, 2009 at 2:29 am
Louise Plummer
I wrote this because I just finished reading STILL ALICE by Lisa Genova, a stunning novel about a woman Harvard professor who develops early-on-set Alzheimer’s Disease at the age of 52. It’s beautifully written and well researched. The narration is from the woman’s point of view. The idea for the video of family members came from that novel. I highly recommend it to all.
My mother suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease for ten years and died at age 82.
I’m obsessive about the disease.
April 3, 2009 at 8:21 am
leslie graff
great list louise- I also have a rule that when I die all my possession- will be laid out on tables at the church and all my friends can take things after the SHORT funeral- yes ala yard sale- That is if they want anything- maybe my paintings or paints (they are more useful)
April 3, 2009 at 7:34 pm
Emily
I love the ‘Wind in the Willows.’
April 4, 2009 at 10:50 am
Angelique
this reminded me of the time my mother told me, after a year of caring for her mother who had late-stage Parkinson’s Disease, that I should feel free to put her in a home when she got old
my grandmother died about 15 years ago but Parkinson’s Disease still flavors our thoughts and talks about aging and dying
this was a wonderful post – and #22 was a wonderful insight into the terrible internal conflicts these kind of diseases can bring out in caretakers and family members of their victims
April 5, 2009 at 1:55 am
simplysarah
I read this post and thought, man…it would be a dream to take a writing class (for non-English majors, of course) from you. Or a reading class. I even googled you yesterday, trying to figure out if you’re a professor right now and where? But I didn’t have time to finish my search. So can you, or anyone else, tell me if there’s a Louise Plummer class I can join? Or a fan club, perhaps? I live in Salt Lake and will travel.
April 8, 2009 at 3:29 pm
Kayla
I needed this today. My mom has lots of health problems and has recently started in with some memory loss and weird dementia stuff. She’s only 50. “I loved you when I was in my right mind; I’ll love you when I am in my right mind again. Don’t feel guilty when you can hardly stand the sight of me. It happens.” Perfect. I’m pretending that my mom said that. It makes me feel better and worse all at the same time.
April 9, 2009 at 11:26 pm
alexandra
The first line made me laugh, but the final paragraph has me in tears. A trick only a truly great writer can muster.