The Job I Couldn’t Quit
by Sabrina Zhou
Clash! I am startled out of my slumber. My mind is groggy and confused. What time is it? The moonlight still illuminates the darkness, so I know I hadn’t overslept my usual 5 AM alarm. Bang! My heart begins to pound and I jump out of bed, rubbing the crust off of my eyes and shaking off the mere four and a half hours of sleep I had gotten that night. As I grab my glasses, I hear another thud, followed by an “Ow!” My father must’ve woken up, which is oddly early for him. I scurry downstairs to find my poor father laying on the ground, with a freshly toasted piece of toast still in the toaster and the refrigerator door wide open. I ask him what had happened and confused he replies, “I-I-I’m not sure. I w-woke up early and was hungry, so I was going to make some crunchy bread...toast. I guess I fell.” My heart sinks. I should’ve woken up earlier. I should’ve been there to make him the toast. This is my fault. I should’ve taken better care of him. You have one job. I force a smile on my face and help my father up. Before heading back to bed, I take him to the bathroom to wash up and I finish making his toast for him. Once tucked into bed, he smiles and gratefully expresses, “T-thank you, ummmm, what’s your name?” My heart sinks. How can he not remember his own daughter? I’m all he has left after mom passed away. Suck it up, it’s not his fault, it’s the Alzheimer’s that is turning his brain to mush.
“It’s Katie, remember me, Dad? I’m your daughter.” He forces a smile, but I know he doesn’t remember. I shut off his light and leave the door open just a crack, so I can be sure I will hear if he needs anything. As I tiptoe downstairs, I can see the sun just rising outside. I sigh, another day.
My father was diagnosed with dementia, which progressed to Alzheimer’s disease six years ago, and let me tell you, it has been a long six years. I was 28 years old and in my second year of residency when my 67 year old father was first diagnosed with dementia. At the time my mom was still alive, which allowed me to finish my residency program, as she became my father’s full time caretaker. However, three years later, my mom was in a car accident and passed away. I grieved and mourned her death for months and still miss her everyday, but by the time she died, Dad’s Alzheimer's had progressed greatly and he didn’t suffer any loss; he didn’t know who she was. I feel guilty that I resent her for leaving me to take care of dad, but I guess she didn’t choose to die. One thing is for sure, I didn’t choose to become a full time caretaker.
Growing up, I had alway had an interest in the human body. Science museums were like an amusement park and Grey’s Anatomy was like my teen rom com. Coming from an immigrant family, money was never in a surplus, so when I first told my parents about wanting to go to medical school, they were hesitant. They explained, “We will support you in anything you choose to do and will do anything to make sure your dreams come true.” When I got accepted into medical school, my parents were so proud, but underlying their excitement, was the dread of the school’s tuition. My dad found a second job as a night janitor at the high school in my town and my mom began real estate to earn extra money and distract herself from my father’s absence. I grinded my way through medical school and graduated at the top of my class. I needed to make my parents proud and their sacrifices worth it. I began my residency at Massachusetts General Hospital, an amazing program, but one that was a six hour flight away from my parents. As always, they were supportive, but we grew more and more distant. Two years into my residency, I got a call from my mother. Her voice was low and the sniffles between her words gave away the fact that she had been crying. “Katie, sweetie,” she started, “your father has dementia. He has been forgetful, and the doctor’s are worried about his progression. He was diagnosed six months ago, but now the doctors suspect Alzheimer’s disease.” I froze. As a prospective surgeon, I knew what this meant. Alzheimer’s disease (AD) is the cause of up to 80% of all dementia cases and is a degenerative brain disease, featuring neurocognitive impairment. The disease is named after the German physician Alois Alzheimer, who studied a woman who died of a mental illness that was unknown at the time. She suffered from memory loss, unpredictable behaviors and language problems. When he examined her brain, he found beta-amyloid plaques and neurofibrillary tangles, which we now know as the main pathological signs of Alzheimer’s (Wells).
“Mom,” I stammered, “c-can I call you back?” I hung up the phone, my mind racing. Alzheimer’s disease is the sixth leading cause of death in the US and those who suffer from it, like my dad, will get lost easily, become confused by simple tasks and can’t drive, cook, or do daily tasks. He’s going to need a caretaker to help him with his everyday needs: to bathe, feed, and groom him. To take care of him around the clock. Oh boy, my mom is in for a treat.
Residency was tough on me. Working 80 hour weeks, there was no way I could go help my mom take care of my dad. I felt bad for her, I did. Being his caregiver became her full time job. I have done research on Alzheimer’s and have learned about it, but I didn’t realize how great of a toll it took on the family until I got the call. The call that my mother was involved in a tragic car accident, and was killed upon impact. It was my time to step up. It was my time to take care of my father who had worked so hard to allow me to reach my potential. But now, I would have to sacrifice my career as a neurosurgeon. God, I thought to myself, I worked so hard and so did my parents and now it’s all for nothing. But you can’t leave your father to rot, Katie. It’s your duty.
I packed up my life in Boston into two suitcases and was on the next flight out. Would he remember me? What if I just sent him to a care facility? When I arrived at my childhood home, I saw my father sitting in his rocking chair staring out the window like he always did. Once he caught my glance, I knew this man was no longer my father. His eyes didn’t light up, I was like a stranger to him. Why didn’t I come visit more often? My poor mother had to slowly lose her husband alone. I am a horrible daughter. It was at that moment that I decided I would dedicate myself to helping my father live comfortably for the rest of his life.
As a neurosurgeon, I knew much about how the brain worked. How the disease slowly ripped your loved ones away (mine was already gone). I know the list of symptoms: memory loss, difficulty problem solving and planning, forgetting how to do daily tasks, withdrawal from usual activities, etc. But I didn’t know the other side of the story. The side of the caregiver. It wasn’t until I became the caregiver that all the statistics I had learned began to make sense: 16+ million people act as unpaid caregivers for those with Alzheimer’s and other dementias, they put in about 18.6 billion (with a b!) hours of work, and estimated costs of 244 billion dollars (Wells). Being a caregiver was really a full time job and it took a lot of getting used to. Patience and being understanding was key. There’s also balancing keeping them safe and allowing them as much independence as possible. I learned that a daily routine helped ease a lot of my dad’s worries and I only ever did things that he couldn’t do for himself. I’ve noticed that he’s become grumpier–it’s probably the Alzheimer's talking, cut him some slack–so I did my best not to tease or argue with him (Norrgard). To counter the grumpiness, I periodically let him nap, which also lets me have a little free time to look into the newest research and medical breakthroughs. I wish I could be a part of that.
The stair creaks a bit as I reach the last step. I flinch, praying that I didn’t wake him up. After pouring my cup of coffee, I open my laptop and begin perusing. I stumble upon an article by “Business Insider'' that catches my attention: “Elon Musk says there’s a chance his Al-brain-chip company will be putting implants in humans within a year.” I chuckle, he seems to say a lot of stuff, things that never happen. But I couldn’t help but wonder what if? This chip he is proposing would be directly implanted into the skull and could be used to restore eyesight, hearing, limb movement and could even address diseases that affect the brain (Eadicicco). It could help my dad’s disease. As I continued searching, I could feel my heart begin to beat faster and faster. What if there was a way I could cure Alzheimer’s? I found another promising article on bioelectronics. This combined advances in prosthetic technology with those in computer science and could help create implantable computer chips that may act as sensors and assist failing memories. This is exactly what my dad needed. The article went on to explain how there are so many prosthetic devices that are used to rehabilitate and restore functions: bionic limbs, cardiac pacemakers, cochlear implants, retinal implantable chips for the blind, and so many more. What about the brain, though? There was talk about how these bioelectronic developments and progress in neuroscience helped create a link between neural tissues and substrate micro probes, but this was only setting the stage for a device that could change millions of lives (Maguire). It was now 6:15 AM and my dad normally woke up around 7 after his 5 AM pee. 45 more minutes. I found an article on optogenics, the study of the body’s electrical systems. Researchers at RMIT University were developing a device that replicates how the brain stores and loses information. Wow, we are so close to artificial intelligence. Basically, the chip would use light to manipulate the neurons to be turned on and off in the brain. Neural connections occur through electrical impulses and neurons bind together and a memory is created once a voltage threshold is reached. This ultra-thin chip would use light to generate a photocurrent that will ultimately allow neurons to connect (and induce learning) or inhibit (to induce forgetting) (RMIT). This is groundbreaking. That’s when I heard the bed creaking and I glanced over at the clock––7:01 AM.
Months went by without any new articles or scientific papers on these new developments. After waking up at 5AM and hurrying to enjoy some time to myself before my dad woke up at 7AM from his nap, I decided to go on a run and to the grocery store. It should be fine, he always sleeps until 7. I was wrong. I returned home to smoke coming out of the chimney and the house engulfed in flames. This was my fault. So selfish Katie. You should never have left. He probably got hungry and tried to make some food like a couple of months ago. I ripped my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, but I knew it was too late. I knew he was gone. A tear dripped down my face, but I found a smile stretching across my face. I was finally free.
I spent the next year catching up on my career. Luckily, Mass Gen was in need of a neurosurgeon and they hired me back. I couldn’t help but want to follow up with the researchers at RMIT University and help cure the incurable disease, or at least prevent it. I had an idea: a brain chip that would be filled with all of one’s memories at age 55, as Alzheimer’s Disease typically begins after age 60. This chip would then be implanted into the brain and if Alzheimer’s Disease was diagnosed, the chip could be activated and use electrical impulses to release the memory needed. The Mem-Chip will save millions of people from the torture of being diagnosed with or that from watching their loved ones slowly disappear from Alzheimer’s Disease. No one would ever need to suffer like I did, from the job I couldn’t quit.
by Sabrina Zhou
Clash! I am startled out of my slumber. My mind is groggy and confused. What time is it? The moonlight still illuminates the darkness, so I know I hadn’t overslept my usual 5 AM alarm. Bang! My heart begins to pound and I jump out of bed, rubbing the crust off of my eyes and shaking off the mere four and a half hours of sleep I had gotten that night. As I grab my glasses, I hear another thud, followed by an “Ow!” My father must’ve woken up, which is oddly early for him. I scurry downstairs to find my poor father laying on the ground, with a freshly toasted piece of toast still in the toaster and the refrigerator door wide open. I ask him what had happened and confused he replies, “I-I-I’m not sure. I w-woke up early and was hungry, so I was going to make some crunchy bread...toast. I guess I fell.” My heart sinks. I should’ve woken up earlier. I should’ve been there to make him the toast. This is my fault. I should’ve taken better care of him. You have one job. I force a smile on my face and help my father up. Before heading back to bed, I take him to the bathroom to wash up and I finish making his toast for him. Once tucked into bed, he smiles and gratefully expresses, “T-thank you, ummmm, what’s your name?” My heart sinks. How can he not remember his own daughter? I’m all he has left after mom passed away. Suck it up, it’s not his fault, it’s the Alzheimer’s that is turning his brain to mush.
“It’s Katie, remember me, Dad? I’m your daughter.” He forces a smile, but I know he doesn’t remember. I shut off his light and leave the door open just a crack, so I can be sure I will hear if he needs anything. As I tiptoe downstairs, I can see the sun just rising outside. I sigh, another day.
My father was diagnosed with dementia, which progressed to Alzheimer’s disease six years ago, and let me tell you, it has been a long six years. I was 28 years old and in my second year of residency when my 67 year old father was first diagnosed with dementia. At the time my mom was still alive, which allowed me to finish my residency program, as she became my father’s full time caretaker. However, three years later, my mom was in a car accident and passed away. I grieved and mourned her death for months and still miss her everyday, but by the time she died, Dad’s Alzheimer's had progressed greatly and he didn’t suffer any loss; he didn’t know who she was. I feel guilty that I resent her for leaving me to take care of dad, but I guess she didn’t choose to die. One thing is for sure, I didn’t choose to become a full time caretaker.
Growing up, I had alway had an interest in the human body. Science museums were like an amusement park and Grey’s Anatomy was like my teen rom com. Coming from an immigrant family, money was never in a surplus, so when I first told my parents about wanting to go to medical school, they were hesitant. They explained, “We will support you in anything you choose to do and will do anything to make sure your dreams come true.” When I got accepted into medical school, my parents were so proud, but underlying their excitement, was the dread of the school’s tuition. My dad found a second job as a night janitor at the high school in my town and my mom began real estate to earn extra money and distract herself from my father’s absence. I grinded my way through medical school and graduated at the top of my class. I needed to make my parents proud and their sacrifices worth it. I began my residency at Massachusetts General Hospital, an amazing program, but one that was a six hour flight away from my parents. As always, they were supportive, but we grew more and more distant. Two years into my residency, I got a call from my mother. Her voice was low and the sniffles between her words gave away the fact that she had been crying. “Katie, sweetie,” she started, “your father has dementia. He has been forgetful, and the doctor’s are worried about his progression. He was diagnosed six months ago, but now the doctors suspect Alzheimer’s disease.” I froze. As a prospective surgeon, I knew what this meant. Alzheimer’s disease (AD) is the cause of up to 80% of all dementia cases and is a degenerative brain disease, featuring neurocognitive impairment. The disease is named after the German physician Alois Alzheimer, who studied a woman who died of a mental illness that was unknown at the time. She suffered from memory loss, unpredictable behaviors and language problems. When he examined her brain, he found beta-amyloid plaques and neurofibrillary tangles, which we now know as the main pathological signs of Alzheimer’s (Wells).
“Mom,” I stammered, “c-can I call you back?” I hung up the phone, my mind racing. Alzheimer’s disease is the sixth leading cause of death in the US and those who suffer from it, like my dad, will get lost easily, become confused by simple tasks and can’t drive, cook, or do daily tasks. He’s going to need a caretaker to help him with his everyday needs: to bathe, feed, and groom him. To take care of him around the clock. Oh boy, my mom is in for a treat.
Residency was tough on me. Working 80 hour weeks, there was no way I could go help my mom take care of my dad. I felt bad for her, I did. Being his caregiver became her full time job. I have done research on Alzheimer’s and have learned about it, but I didn’t realize how great of a toll it took on the family until I got the call. The call that my mother was involved in a tragic car accident, and was killed upon impact. It was my time to step up. It was my time to take care of my father who had worked so hard to allow me to reach my potential. But now, I would have to sacrifice my career as a neurosurgeon. God, I thought to myself, I worked so hard and so did my parents and now it’s all for nothing. But you can’t leave your father to rot, Katie. It’s your duty.
I packed up my life in Boston into two suitcases and was on the next flight out. Would he remember me? What if I just sent him to a care facility? When I arrived at my childhood home, I saw my father sitting in his rocking chair staring out the window like he always did. Once he caught my glance, I knew this man was no longer my father. His eyes didn’t light up, I was like a stranger to him. Why didn’t I come visit more often? My poor mother had to slowly lose her husband alone. I am a horrible daughter. It was at that moment that I decided I would dedicate myself to helping my father live comfortably for the rest of his life.
As a neurosurgeon, I knew much about how the brain worked. How the disease slowly ripped your loved ones away (mine was already gone). I know the list of symptoms: memory loss, difficulty problem solving and planning, forgetting how to do daily tasks, withdrawal from usual activities, etc. But I didn’t know the other side of the story. The side of the caregiver. It wasn’t until I became the caregiver that all the statistics I had learned began to make sense: 16+ million people act as unpaid caregivers for those with Alzheimer’s and other dementias, they put in about 18.6 billion (with a b!) hours of work, and estimated costs of 244 billion dollars (Wells). Being a caregiver was really a full time job and it took a lot of getting used to. Patience and being understanding was key. There’s also balancing keeping them safe and allowing them as much independence as possible. I learned that a daily routine helped ease a lot of my dad’s worries and I only ever did things that he couldn’t do for himself. I’ve noticed that he’s become grumpier–it’s probably the Alzheimer's talking, cut him some slack–so I did my best not to tease or argue with him (Norrgard). To counter the grumpiness, I periodically let him nap, which also lets me have a little free time to look into the newest research and medical breakthroughs. I wish I could be a part of that.
The stair creaks a bit as I reach the last step. I flinch, praying that I didn’t wake him up. After pouring my cup of coffee, I open my laptop and begin perusing. I stumble upon an article by “Business Insider'' that catches my attention: “Elon Musk says there’s a chance his Al-brain-chip company will be putting implants in humans within a year.” I chuckle, he seems to say a lot of stuff, things that never happen. But I couldn’t help but wonder what if? This chip he is proposing would be directly implanted into the skull and could be used to restore eyesight, hearing, limb movement and could even address diseases that affect the brain (Eadicicco). It could help my dad’s disease. As I continued searching, I could feel my heart begin to beat faster and faster. What if there was a way I could cure Alzheimer’s? I found another promising article on bioelectronics. This combined advances in prosthetic technology with those in computer science and could help create implantable computer chips that may act as sensors and assist failing memories. This is exactly what my dad needed. The article went on to explain how there are so many prosthetic devices that are used to rehabilitate and restore functions: bionic limbs, cardiac pacemakers, cochlear implants, retinal implantable chips for the blind, and so many more. What about the brain, though? There was talk about how these bioelectronic developments and progress in neuroscience helped create a link between neural tissues and substrate micro probes, but this was only setting the stage for a device that could change millions of lives (Maguire). It was now 6:15 AM and my dad normally woke up around 7 after his 5 AM pee. 45 more minutes. I found an article on optogenics, the study of the body’s electrical systems. Researchers at RMIT University were developing a device that replicates how the brain stores and loses information. Wow, we are so close to artificial intelligence. Basically, the chip would use light to manipulate the neurons to be turned on and off in the brain. Neural connections occur through electrical impulses and neurons bind together and a memory is created once a voltage threshold is reached. This ultra-thin chip would use light to generate a photocurrent that will ultimately allow neurons to connect (and induce learning) or inhibit (to induce forgetting) (RMIT). This is groundbreaking. That’s when I heard the bed creaking and I glanced over at the clock––7:01 AM.
Months went by without any new articles or scientific papers on these new developments. After waking up at 5AM and hurrying to enjoy some time to myself before my dad woke up at 7AM from his nap, I decided to go on a run and to the grocery store. It should be fine, he always sleeps until 7. I was wrong. I returned home to smoke coming out of the chimney and the house engulfed in flames. This was my fault. So selfish Katie. You should never have left. He probably got hungry and tried to make some food like a couple of months ago. I ripped my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, but I knew it was too late. I knew he was gone. A tear dripped down my face, but I found a smile stretching across my face. I was finally free.
I spent the next year catching up on my career. Luckily, Mass Gen was in need of a neurosurgeon and they hired me back. I couldn’t help but want to follow up with the researchers at RMIT University and help cure the incurable disease, or at least prevent it. I had an idea: a brain chip that would be filled with all of one’s memories at age 55, as Alzheimer’s Disease typically begins after age 60. This chip would then be implanted into the brain and if Alzheimer’s Disease was diagnosed, the chip could be activated and use electrical impulses to release the memory needed. The Mem-Chip will save millions of people from the torture of being diagnosed with or that from watching their loved ones slowly disappear from Alzheimer’s Disease. No one would ever need to suffer like I did, from the job I couldn’t quit.