Tonight, at 8:00 pm, our beautiful friend Leeza Gibbons will be on Larry King, sharing her mother’s battle with Alzheimer’s Disease. When her mother, Jean, was diagnosised with Alzheimer’s Leeza family already knew how horrific the disease could be. Jean’s own mother had passed from it. Although Jean knew the disease would take over her mind, turning her into someone she was not, she still asked Leeza to tell her story for the sake of others. This courageous women put aside any worries of judgement or humiliation so she could help others who face similar struggles. I can only think about how different the world would be if we could all live so heroic. I was privileged to spend time with Leeza ‘s mother days before she lost her battle, and that experience changed my life.
Leeza and I had spoke about her mother many times, so I felt comfortable asking her if I could visit her. It was just something I felt deep inside of me that I had to do. With approval fom Leeza, I traveled to her hometown, in South Carolina, where her mother still lived. Although she wasn’t able to speak a word to me, or look in my eyes, I could feel how much love she had in her heart. I laid at the foot of her on the bed and her overwhelming strength made me feel incredibly safe. When our time together was over I
kissed her good-bye. I was honored to have met a woman whose story would make a difference forever. But, I was saddend to know that this would be our only time together. On my way home I wrote this Wish for Jean.
They call her Jeepers, a name she inherited some sixty years ago.
When I entered her room, I was moved by emotion; words could not
prepare me for her disturbing condition as she slumped uncomfortably
in her chair. Feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, I spoke quietly to
her, but her vacant stare offered no response. I traveled far to be in her
presence, inspired by her story. It had been many years since the thief
we call Alzheimer’s crept into her life, robbing her of everything, only
leaving the physical to endure endless suffering—leaving no hope, no
cure, and devastating those who loved her so dearly. Here she breathed,
living in misery, stripped of her dignity, yet no one I had met before her
was more deserving of self-respect or the respect of others. She had witnessed
the vicious crimes of her disease in her own mother before her.
She was aware that a stranger would enter her mind, diminishing her
grace before she would vanish altogether into her own silence. She was
fully aware of it all, yet she asked her family, for the sake of finding a
cure, to tell her story.
Footage of her demise has been witnessed by countless people,
awakening the need for change; her selfless courage to make a difference
has done just that, made a difference. . . . Her caretakers moved her to
the bed and she immediately curled into a fetal position as if desperately
trying to return to a place of warmth and safety. I moved to the bed with
her and curled at her feet. Over time a peace, a comfort, overtook me.
There I read to her, I rubbed her aching body, and sang her a lullaby.
In those moments, I fell in love with this great woman, honored by the
opportunity to show my gratitude. For you, I wish the dignity of Jeepers.
