Spud, I'm 65. Yes, I have thought of it. I even wrote a song about it once that has to do with what I assume must be the scariest period of Alzheimer's- when you know there's something wrong but you believe that for some unknown reason everyone has abandoned you.

The Mists of Time

I remember I once had a family
And I know that I was happy then
For I can see their bright little faces...
But I don't know where, or when.

Chorus:

Memories lost in the mists of Time
I don't know much anymore
The years, the days, the hours all run together
Memories lost in the mists of Time.

Yesterday- or was it just this morning?
They gathered 'round my rocking chair
I recall the scent of many candles
But I knew nobody there.

An elderly friend called me one day to say goodbye- she was leaving Juneau and returning to Anchorage, her hometown. She and her doctor had become aware she was in the early onset of Alzheimer's and she was going 'home'. She told me of the precautions she was taking- writing everything down for her to refer to in the early stages, and putting in writing all the insurances, bank accounts, medications, clothes sizes, food likes and allergies... I really admire her. This is a woman who has been a sharp political activist, a feminist, an achiever who was going at this the way she had gone into everything else all her life. And guess what- I saw in the Anchorage paper the other day that she's getting married! (How that will turn out, who knows. She might have a happy life until she gets hit by a truck.)

My point, I guess, is that she didn't quit living.

The part I remind myself of is that there are many ways of losing one's reasoning ability and memory. As you said, stroke is one of them as are a number of other brain traumas.

They say that in the animal world there are no happy endings- and it is true for human beings more often than we would wish. If we live long enough there will come a time when one by one we suffer losses, both mental and physical, as well as losing to death many of the people we've considered essential to our very survival.

An old friend of mine who died at the age of 97 no longer recognized her daughter although she certainly remembered that she had had a daughter. I know that the reason she didn't recognize her was that Marie didn't resemble the daughter she remembered. A white-haired Marie didn't fit.

I'm planning to love to live until something different comes along. And if I can't deal with that something different, those around me will have to, I guess.

You sound like one who loves life too so, not to worry.

Cheers

Ebbie