CJ: My brother Stanley and I came home from school and mom told us that our aunt wanted to talk to us. So we went out and got in the old pick-up and drove over there. And my aunt started telling us that my mom had this disease that my aunt Pearl had had and my uncle Fred and so forth down the line.

It's the first day I heard the word Alzheimer's. When we got back to the farm it was dark and Mom and Dad were in a fight. Dad had gotten home from work and wanted to know where we were at and she had forgotten where we had gone.

They were yelling and screaming at each other and it was -- it was a horrible night for all of us. I was the one that became the careperson for my mother at the time. I was thirteen. I got to high school. I was in my senior year and by this time mom was sitting in the rocking chair with a blanket wrapped around her and all the blinds pulled down.

That year she asked me if I could help her die and I told her I couldn't. And after that she started, uh, trying to run away. Any chance she thought she could sneak out of the house she would leave and uh I'd have to go find her.

I was diagnosed in 2004 with Alzheimer's. I was 50. A friend of mine sent me an e-mail right after my diagnosis. She said, 'This is terrible. This isn't fair and it's a horrible thing.'

And I wrote back to her and I said, 'Well, it's not that bad. It's not like you're in pain all the time."

But uh, it takes a toll on our family because I know that when they see my failing they get really sad and they don't like to see that. I wish they would try to understand that I may be a little different. There's a time there where uh I will forget everybody's name but inside I'm still here. I'm still me. Inside I'm thinking how much fun I'm having with them. And I as much as possible would like to be treated as had been treated before.