Luc Gagnon is a psychoeducator at the Douglas Institute. In 2003, he learned that his father had Alzheimer's disease. He decided to keep a journal to record the few precious lucid moments that his father would still be able to share. Two years later, Luc gathered his writings under the title "Papa, mama, the maid and I," a collection filled with humour and tenderness. The series is being published during the Alzheimer Awareness Month and over the next few weeks.

January 2004 - We’re seated in the psychiatrist’s waiting room. This is easily papa’s fifteenth medical appointment to date and the sixth specialist he’s seen in as many months. They all ask the same questions to test his memory and level of awareness. Yesterday he had a particularly rough time at his appointment with the occupational therapist. Couldn’t name a single Quebec premier. On the federal side, he did a bit better, naming Trudeau…and Baldwin. Who’s Baldwin? I checked it out and found a Robert Baldwin who was co-prime minister of Upper Canada in the 1840s. A memory from history class maybe?

There was also a Stanley Baldwin, who was prime minister of England when papa was a child. Another Baldwin was a key player in Mackenzie King’s cabinet in the 1930s. Pick one. My brother Bernard tried to draw it out of papa. Zilch. Nada. As for me, ever since he started giving me “that look,” I don’t push him. If he asks me the same question five times in a row, I give him the same answer five times in a row, patiently and without changing my tone of voice, answering each time as if it’s the one and only time he’s asked.

So we’re in the psychiatrist’s waiting room. Another elderly couple is also waiting to see the doctor. At one point, mama leans over to papa to whisper something in his ear. Trouble is, mama’s hard of hearing, so her whisper is just like her normal speaking voice…which is loud. Anyway, she whispers, making a point to articulate each word: “If he asks you, IT’S TWO THOUSAND AND FOUR, and you have four grandchildren: VINCENT, MARTINE, SÉBASTIEN, AND VÉRONIQUE.” Papa studies her with a serious and somewhat surprised look. These days, he often looks surprised.

A few months ago, I would have scolded mama: “Don’t do that! You’re going to distort the results!” Today, however, I keep my mouth shut. Everyone knows there are huge gaps in his memory: the family, the doctor, even papa himself. All the hints in the world won’t make a difference. But whispering the answers to him like a classmate in grade school…only mama is capable of that! I smile, and my smile is genuine, although I don’t let mama see it. I don’t want to make her feel worse than she already does. Yet I can’t help but think “What a wonderful show of love.” I take a deep breath and savour the moment.

The annunciation to Michèle

My niece Véronique, my sister Michèle’s daughter, has made a big announcement to the family: the first great grandchild is on its way. The call comes on a Sunday when we are all gathered for a family meeting at the home of Charles, our youngest brother. Actually we’re told the news on arrival, as it’s been leaked to Charles earlier in the day. The siblings are all told, except the future grandparents, Michèle and her husband, François. Michèle and François are chronically late no matter where they’re expected. This, of course, only adds to the fun on this particular day. On their arrival, the rest of us exchange knowing smiles in anticipation of the call that’s about to come from Véro.

I’ve thrown a bunch of new characters at you; are you keeping up? Onward then: a little conspiracy, some brotherly love, and a drop or two of alcohol, despite it being barely noon on this sunny Sunday. The much anticipated call comes, and the celebrating begins: Michèle screams; François wipes away tears; my two brothers and I crack bad jokes in the background. Quick! Refill the glasses; this definitely calls for a toast.

It’s the following Tuesday or Wednesday. I bound up the front steps of my parents’ house. I can’t wait to see their reaction to the news. I’m sure mama has talked about nothing else for the past three days. The door opens, and, as usual, they’re both there to greet me. I waste no time: “And? How are the future great grandparents doing today?” Papa frowns and asks “Huh? What do you mean, great grandparents?” Mama turns to him and somewhat impatiently says: “Ah come on, Gérard, you know—Véro, the baby…” Papa’s eyes fly open in surprise as he loudly exclaims “WHAT? VÉRO’S HAD A BABY?” Mama, always at the ready, begins to explain. “Of course not, Gérard, it’s just that…” Suddenly, she changes her mind and, with a little giggle, looks into his eyes and gives him her brightest and most beautiful smile.

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