At the end of January, my friend,
and mentor, Penny Braun passed away. Penny was my first contact with the
Alzheimer’s Association. When Jim first developed
dementia symptoms, I called the Mid-Missouri Chapter, located in Columbia. The
executive director, Penny, answered the phone.
“I don’t know if I should be calling you because my husband
has memory problems but has not been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s,” I said.
“You called the right place,” Penny assured me. “We have
information that will help you, and you can call us anytime.” And I did.
Penny brought her beloved German shepherd, Victoria, with
her when she came to the 1998 Sedalia Memory Walk. Penny wasn’t in any of the
photos because she took them, but Victoria posed with the small group that
walked that day.
In 2001, Penny asked asked me to go to the Alzheimer’s forum.
“We’re going to ask for a billion dollars,” she told me. “Maureen Reagan set that goal
when she was on the national Alzheimer’s board.”
“I can do that,” I said with much more confidence than I felt. I had no concept of
what a billion dollars looked like. Of course, the research funding was only a
small fraction of that billion dollar goal.
Penny and I shared a room on my first trip to Washington, D.C. We arrived late and
when we tried to check in, the clerk clicked the keyboard on the computer,
frowned and clicked some more.
“I don’t have a reservation for you,” he said, “and we’re booked solid.”
“We do have a reservation,” Penny said
firmly, “I have the paperwork here.” Penny dug in her purse for the reservation.
When she couldn’t find it, she turned on
the charm. “We’re exhausted, and surely you can find one room
we can have. Please, check with your manager and see if you can find a room for
this old lady.”
When he left to check, she turned to me and said, “They always save one room in case the president or some important person
needs a room. Oh, here it is!” She jubilantly pulled out the reservation, gave
it a glance, and stuffed it back into her purse. “It begins tomorrow night,”
she said in a stage whisper. About that time, the clerk returned all smiles,
and handed us the keys to a beautiful suite. Mission accomplished.
After Penny retired from the Alzheimer’s Association to care for her husband, I saw her only occasionally. She was at
the Alzheimer’s roast last spring. She, of course, gave me a big hug and asked
how I was doing. “Have you read my book?” she asked.
When I admitted I hadn’t, she pulled a copy out
of her purse and handed it to me. Alzheimer’s
Caregiving: A Voice of Experience.
Penny knew the heartbreak of Alzheimer’s
because her mother had the disease. Her family connection compelled her to open
the office in Columbia, first as a volunteer. She later became the chapter’s
first executive director.
Penny’s book has
several examples of situations and solutions to problems that “might work.” She
was smart enough to know that the same solutions don’t work for every person,
nor do the same solutions always work for the same person.
I had to smile when
I got to the “Three Right Answers.” She wrote, “As the disease progresses,
three answers to problems seem inevitably right. The first two are music and
ice cream.” The final right answer is the smile. “Use it warmly and often.”
Rest in peace, my friend. You left a legacy of hugs, smiles, and a
caring heart.
Copyright © February 2017 by L.S.
Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
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