Tuesday, January 24, 2023

“A Follow Up”


            I didn’t meet a new doctor today. Instead, my “original” new internist decided not to retire yet. He is the physician who treated my mother as she progressed from Stage 3 to Stage 4 and finally Stage 5 of Huntington’s disease. Every appointment he spent time with not just her, but with me as well. He checked with me on my emotional and physical demands as caregiver. Whenever I left messages with questions or needs with his nurse, he personally returned the call, speaking first with Mom and then with me. We weren’t his first Huntington’s disease family. Because of that, he prepared us for the tremendously cruel course that lay ahead for us.
            For my new readers unfamiliar with Huntington’s disease, it’s a rare, inherited disease that progressively causes degeneration of nerve cells in the brain. There’s no cure. There are limited treatments. This disorder brutally steals every facet of the patient’s life. It destroys a person’s ability to walk, talk, and think. Victims often choose suicide before the illness progresses too long. Because muscles no longer work properly, many people with HD aspirate food, water, or medication and die from complications stemming from pneumonia.

            My mother went into the final stage of HD. She could no longer swallow. She starved to death.

            In the ten years since Mom’s passing, I continued going to my own physician since my visits comprised of one annual physical. Every time I drove to that office on the other side of town, I’d pass Mom’s doctor’s office just five minutes from our home. Last year, when my medical needs shifted to more frequent follow-up appointments due to new medications, I decided moving to a doctor closer to home really made sense. Imagine my pleasant surprise when I learned Mom’s internist still took new patients. Then disappointment hit when he announced his retirement. I don’t know why he postponed leaving, but am thankful to have a longer connection with someone who helped me through my hardest years.

 

Edna Thompson Abrams August 2010 (Mom)



Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chpman

              

 


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