That was my “click of awareness.” Another six months went by before Dad complained to his doctor of feeling disoriented in unfamiliar surroundings, like hotel rooms. It was in the fall of 1994, at the Mayo Clinic, that my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

The click of awareness. A woman drives to the supermarket and sits in the car for 30 minutes because she can’t remember how to open the car door. An engineer stays home from work because he can’t remember how to tie his necktie. My father’s experience was much like theirs. One, they forget something very familiar; two, they display no other major symptoms for several months, and three, they are diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

Though the symptoms are different for every person, it is our responsibility to be aware of the early warning signs. We begin using tests at the age of 40 for all sorts of things that kill us–mammograms, prostate exams, colonoscopies. Well, Alzheimer’s can kill us, too. It’s not just about forgetting your wedding day. The brain tells the body what to do: to stand up, to walk, to swallow and to breathe. At some point these things will break down and you will die. So part of our protection should be minimal cognitive testing to provide a benchmark that will alert doctors down the road to changes that require further examination. In that way, a doctor could intervene, instead of putting the burden on family members to recognize the disease and then battle to get a loved one to medical evaluation. There are therapies today that were not available for my father. They won’t cure the disease, but they may buy time.

When people ask me how my dad is doing, my response is “not so good.” But it is hard to say that because he makes it so easy for us. In other words, he’s still him. But his motor skills are going. I thank God for Nancy and the wonderful care she gives him and then I thank God again for sending Diane, a nurse extraordinaire. They are quite a team and he couldn’t be better cared for. They, like millions of caregivers, make sure his days are as stimulating and fun as possible.

I try to visit every couple of weeks and we’ve found he likes my bright red fingernails. Since neither Nancy nor Diane wears bright polish they always say, “Oh, Maureen, you sit over there,” and he looks at those nails and we get a big smile. Earlier in the disease we did jigsaw puzzles, usually animal scenes: a farmyard, horses in a meadow, a jungle scene. We started with 300-piece puzzles and worked our way down to 100. Unfortunately, he can’t do that anymore. It was great fun and he had a tremendous sense of accomplishment. There was a time when he enjoyed the pictures in an art book and would read out loud. He could recognize the words even after aphasia had robbed him of his ability to put his thoughts into words. My father has always been my hero, but never more than when he wrote his final letter to the American people. He made it all right to talk about the disease. Whether it afflicts a neighbor who quietly fades behind the upstairs curtains, a relative who no longer comes to visit during the holidays or a former president, the effects of Alzheimer’s disease are drawing closer to each of us every day. We must be the last generation to face this disease without hope.

The Alzheimer’s Association was started by family members who had no place to turn. Our chapters are constantly gathering information, which is shared through support groups. These caregivers do not sit around feeling sorry for themselves. They share their experiences. One woman told me that when her husband was finally bedridden she would bring home helium balloons. He loved the bright colors and how they moved across the ceiling. We promote a “safe return” bracelet registered with the local police. Alzheimer’s patients tend to wander.

We who work in public policy at the association are always pushing for attention from Congress. This spring, our family members will be calling for more research funding. Every fall we sponsor Memory Walks across the country to provide funding for local chapter programs. There is a great deal of work to do and we need your help. We are in a race against time for all of us. Contact the Alzheimer’s Association at 800-272-3900 or at alz.org and tell them Ronald Reagan said to call. I’ll say it for him: “Thank you, and God bless you.”