Talking to, and with, lots of people

I’m giving a lot of speeches this coming year on AD and caregiving, and I like doing it.  I like the connections.  It’s almost like sitting next to someone on a plane—you will probably never see them again, but while you’re sharing space and time there’s a connection.  A nice one, if you’re lucky.

Once, after speaking at a university about the harmful secrecy shrouding AD, a medical student  talked privately to me after  Q&A.  She said she’s suffering from depression and that diseases such as that one were never discussed in her Korean family or community.  She suspected that her mother also suffered from depression, but had never asked.  She said that after listening to me talk about the  unnecessary stigma of AD, she was going to go home and discuss her depression with her mother—and she’d be asking questions.

After another speech, a man asked me to sign his copy of  “I Still Do.”  He wanted me to sign it to him and to his 13 year old daughter.  “I want her to understand the disease,” he said, and then joked “in case I get it.”  I thought it was sensitive and smart of him to open such a conversation with his child—even at 13.  I was pleased to hear  that.

And then there are the people who break down crying when talking about a parent or spouse with the disease; and the people who have no personal experience with AD, but have a lot of questions they’ve never asked; and the people who want to know if they should be worried because they’re always forgetting things (there are a lot of people in that line).

I love the fact that people talk openly in the right environment;  if you’ve been honest and open with them—they will honor you by talking to you in the same vein.