Remembering A Friend ...

Several years ago, I had a friend, British, who lost his wife to cancer, only after a short period of being diagnosed. They were the closest and the most loving couple I had ever known, permanently holding hands so each could only drink coffee with one free hand. Then she died. They were both in their late 50's. Within barely a month, just when I was wondering how he was coping with what must be devastating grief. Not having seen him around for about 2 weeks so I rang. Many times, the phone rang each time, but never answered. One morning while sitting in my usual cafe, I saw him pass by. He walked, more like tottering with unsteady steps, painfully slowly, as though he was lost or in a daze. I ran out to greet him and was shocked to see he was not the same man as he was merely 2-3 weeks before: confident and self-assured. He was unshaven, hair unkempt, his shirt was half hanging outside his trousers, and wearing different coloured socks. What really scared me was he didn't seem to recognise me at all, and not able to answer any of my concerned questions, but mumbling something I couldn't understand. He wouldn't go with me to the cafe as I suggested, and walked off without really having said a word directly to me. I followed him with my eyes and saw him sit down at some distance from where I was, on a bench at the pavement. I phoned the police and asked them to see whether this man was okay or needing some special assistance. In the meantime, I told the cafe where I had left my coffee not finished that I would be back later, and walked towards where he sat. My sitting right next to him neither disturbed or delighted him with my company, until the police arrived, and I explained what little I knew, just the area of his house, ( not his address as I didn't know and had never been), his name, his circumstances, his phone number and the name of another friend who I thought had known him far longer than I had, and also lived in the same area. The police took him away. From the other friend I later learned that his only son in England had come in a hurry and taken him back to UK. In fact he, the son, had then phoned me later after he found my phone number in his father's note book, and thanked me for alerting the police who in turn informed him. He was diagnosed in England with Alzheimer. Not yet 60 of age! He died soon after getting back to his native home, no doubt of a broken heart over his wife's passing, that led to his dementia and death. I guess he had simply given up living. I remembered him today because I read that the Doctor who had defined Alzheimer as a disease, a medical condition, and not as most people thought connected directly with a person getting old and senile. Dr. Robert Katzman had died in his home in San Diego, aged 82. Tags: Friend, Alzheimer

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