On Behalf of Cynthia Green

It’s been in my heart to speak on behalf of Cynthia Jeter Green in the death of her mother, Virginia Jeter, who had Alzheimer’s disease.

I don’t know Cynthia or her possible personal problems, but I do know that caring for an Alzheimer’s patient at home can be completely crazy-making.

My own mother progressed from Parkinson’s to Alzheimer’s and went to live with one of my sisters, who surprised us all by suddenly dying after 3 1/2 years from the demands of that and her job combined. At that time, we didn’t know how life-sapping it was either. After we lost her, I retired from my job in California to go back to the Midwest to help with Mom for the next four years. Mother lived with another sister, also working as well. Mom finally passed away, and the heavy burden left us--but in varying stages of disintegration ourselves.

I came back to California and spent a year in and out of doctors’ offices and in and out of bed. Finally I feel I have regained enough normal energy to continue my own pursuits again. The second sister, now also retired, is still undergoing care for the stress syndromes induced by this impossible task.

You may ask, “Why not a nursing home?” Before the Parkinson’s became evident, Mom broke her hip and spent some time in a nursing home. She and both sisters were appalled at the casual but serious neglect patients endure (how can they receive complete care?) and they promised Mom never to subject her to this.

So we did some of the work and hired a nurse and took whatever benefits Medicare could provide. We had a full-time nurse from the start--the full eight years--and provided the evening and weekend care ourselves. Although two sisters always tried to share the work, it still took over their/our lives.

It’s almost suicidal. Both your body and brain suffer. The patient does her best but can’t swallow and so doesn’t eat or messes in the clean diapers or urinates all over the bed so you have to get up in the middle of the night to change it.

Then there are the daily washings of the dirty linen and clothes, the shopping for easy foods, the grinding and serving of fresh foods through a plunger arrangement because she cannot chew, and the patience you must try to hang onto when it takes two hours to feed and give medications four times a day. You have to forswear any social life whatsoever.

Evidently Cynthia Green didn’t have anyone to share these duties and not even a job to pay for the hygienic necessities. Perhaps it all caught up with her, and so she just gave up and let it all flow over her. And now they call it homicide because of neglect, even though she accepted the responsibility of taking her mother in and gave up her own freedom.

For those who sit in judgment, may I say I hope it happens to you, only so you get understanding. As for me, my sis and I have decided if and when either of us comes to the point we know it is definitely in our future, we shall go out by our own hand instead of inflicting this suffering either on our loved ones or ourselves. This degree of sacrifice is too punishing, even for Mother Teresa.

Good luck, Cynthia!

DORIS ANDERSON

North Hollywood