Four Umbrellas is a memoir of a couple's experience with early-onset Alzheimer's. It was very difficult to read, in light of many recognizable traits. I'm probably magnifying my risks because of my mother's diagnosis, but when multiple episodes cluster, I grow anxious. For example, someone hit our mailbox and knocked off one number. John asked me to make the simple fix, but I put the one on the wrong end, making it say 1011 instead of 1101. He worried we may have missed a package delivery before he noticed and fixed it. I felt guilty, frustrated, and scared. I have also had mishaps with our coffee maker (granted, it is early morning - often 4 a.m., but still ...) One day, I ran the individual coffee side without a mug (coffee all over the counter and dripping onto the floor). Then, I ran the carafe side without water another day. I forgot to add sugar to my zucchini loaves (thankfully, I taste-tested our loaf before gifting the second loaf). Hopefully, John's birds enjoyed those dry loaves. I could laugh off one incident, but many leave me cringing.
The title of the book comes from an incident where the husband packed four umbrellas. It also could symbolize the four over-arching cognitive decline severity stages (NCI, SCI, MCI, and dementia) or four types of dementia (Alzheimer's, Lewy Body Dementia, Vascular Dementia, and Fronto Temporal Dementia). Since both the husband and the wife are writers (should I say "was" for him), they divide the segments into storytelling from the wife's perspective and insights from the husband's. The structure jumps around a bit, but it tells a heart-wrenching tale of loss. From a sharp acuity with words to rambling tangents, the husband's own involvement clearly reveals how devastating the process toward dementia can be. These are shoes I would rather only walk in through memoir, but will I have a choice?
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