Washington
DC
I received a call from a research department at
Georgetown University that is studying a treatment for Alzheimer’s. The hope for the drug is that it will
actually change the progression of the disease rather than just improve
cognitive function while the pathology of the disease progresses
undisturbed. I told my neurologist
several weeks ago that I’d like to be part of such a research project, he
informed the people, and a nurse at Georgetown telephoned me. I’ve read the particular research
protocol. While it’s intense, it’s
something I’d very much like to take part in.
The truth is that I only pursued the research
possibility because my sisters pushed
me into it. But now I’m very
interested in the possibility. It may be
difficult to qualify for and only a few hundred people from around the country
will be invited in. There will actually
be four or five interviews and SOME testing to determine eligibility. One of the tests will be a Positive
Emission Tomography (PET) scan that can further confirm my diagnosis and
lay to rest any lingering doubts. My neurologist
offered me the test several
months ago, but I declined for cost reasons; now it will be part of the
protocol.
As a physician I always felt that research protocols
were the best way to get detailed care from doctors with sub-specialty
interest, and I always recommended them to appropriate patients. Often, there won’t be any benefit from the
medication being studied, but the process itself leads to deeper understanding
of the disease, attention to minor symptoms, and a sense that “everything is
being done.” So my previous
reluctance doesn’t really make any sense.
Perhaps it was part of an unconscious need to slow down the acclimation
process and better integrate Alzheimer’s into my self image.
As scheduled, I spoke to about 40 Georgetown medical
students this morning about inner-city poverty.
I was nervous. I’m very familiar
with the basic outline, but I needed to change the introduction. In rehearsing it before my talk, I realized
that I could not speak fluently about something I wasn’t intimately familiar
with, so I had almost to memorize the introduction. It went well.
Speaking with young people is one of my favorite things to do. The students were attentive, and my
presentation was fairly fluent, although my memory for something quite familiar
failed me at one point and I had frequent trouble word-finding.
Afterwards, I spoke with the professor. She apparently hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the presentation, which relieved me. I then told her about my Alzheimer’s, and asked whether there was any possibility of breaking into the medical school to share this process with doctors-in-training. She seemed positive and promised to talk with the relevant professor within a day or two.
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