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In 1973 my father had a minor traffic accident. Visibility was poor do to light fog so everyone excepted his explanation that he did not remember seeing the other car. In the months following, there were several near misses. One day, my father's supervisor found Dad wandering around the factory. He could not find his workbench. Not sure what to do, the supervisor took Dad to see the personnel director, who happened to be our neighbor and friend.

Dad appeared normal but could offer no explanation for his actions. Ed, the personnel director said, "Ren, I need to update our records. How old are you? What is your address and and phone number? What is your wife's maiden name? What kind of car do you drive?" In each case Dad gave a prompt answer. Because Ed was a friend and neighbor, he knew the correct information and knew that each answer was wrong. My father could not remember those things. Rather than admit ignorance, he made an answer up.

At that time, few people had heard the word Alzheimer's Disease or Alzheimer's Dementia as it is officially known. Even our family doctor had to look it up when a specialist finally rendered the diagnosis. The biggest struggle was that no one knew about the disease or how to care for patients.

Fortunately the county nurse introduced my mother to the wife of another Alzheimer's patient. In desperation, they organized a mutual support group, and the women did their best to help each other. This group evolved into the Southeastern Wisconsin Chapter of the Alzheimer's Association. Fortunately as the disease became better known, the Alzheimer's Association was able to distribute more information and resources to families of Alzheimer's patients. Patient care and assistance to families gradually improved.

My mother explored many options including the VA hospital in Milwaukee. She was horrified in the late 1970's to learn that Alzheimer's patients were placed in the psychology ward. "But he's not crazy," my mother said. Fortunately, Alzheimer's Disease is progressive so my mother had relatively few problems caring for him at first. Fortunately neighbors and friends from church helped because it eventually became very difficult to care for my father. The county nurse, friends and neighbors did what they could, but eventually Mom paid a widow to help her a couple of hours each day. My mother cared for my father at home for 17 years until his death. Those with an interest in her struggles can read the book she wrote (Betty Conger, "You Forgot

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