Armed with blister plasters, WeightWatchers friendly (& maybe some not so friendly) energy snacks and copious amounts of loo roll, we will be embarking on the Alzheimer’s Society 26 Mile Trek on 11 September!  Our main aim is to complete the trek in one day – and to not get lost!  

Julia: After a couple of years of increasingly worrying symptoms my Dad, Bob, received confirmation of his Alzheimer’s diagnosis in 2014.  It’s hard, when you find yourself genuinely wishing that your Dad had died ten years ago.  That he’d keeled over in some club house after 18 holes in the sun, and a couple of beers.  But that’s exactly what I wish.  Because I would give anything to have saved him – and Mum – and all of us – from what has transpired since.  Dad has disintegrated in front of us in the most tortuous and undignified way.  Alzheimer’s robbed him of the happy retirement he should have shared with Mum, turning her into his carer for several arduous, sad and frightening years before she was finally persuaded that it was time for the professionals to take over.  Dad’s in a home now.  He doesn’t know who I am.  But I know who HE is, and I know who he was.  And I am trekking for him, and for the countless other men and women whose families are trying so hard to remember, and celebrate them, as they were - and not as they are now.  And in the hope that one day a cure for those affected by Alzheimer's Disease, or a preventative treatment for those at risk, can be found. 

 Katie:  Alzheimer’s is cruel. It lurks, disguised as slips of memory and mixed-up words. By the time you realise something might be wrong – by the time you get up the courage to talk to someone – it’s too late. And then, Alzheimer’s isn’t happy just taking away one person’s life. It wants to take away others’ too. My grandad was kind, funny, the host with the most, and unbelievably good with William and I. He loved golf, sunbathing, sport, shellfish, Gold Label, dogs, more golf, white trainers, MORE GOLF, holidays, his family and his wife – my nan, Pam. But now, he doesn’t remember any of that. Thanks to Alzheimer’s he’s been robbed of all those memories, and the opportunity to make more. And so was my nan. Because this horrible disease had my grandad in it’s clutches and it wasn’t satisfied until my nan was trapped there too. If us doing this trek can make even the slightest difference in the fight against this disease, then it’s worth it. I would walk around the world to eradicate Alzheimer’s. I would walk around the world and back if it would save my grandad. But, unfortunately, it won’t. Plus, my legs would probably fall off. But step by step, and trek by trek, we are getting closer to beating it. And I know, if he could, my grandad would be there every step – in blindingly white trainers, of course.   

Vivien:  My mother always said that her worst nightmare was getting dementia and not being able to look after herself.  Sadly, that is exactly what has happened.  Over the past 4 years a  strong, independent woman is now vulnerable, confused and no longer my mom. My stepdad spent the last few years of his life, particularly his final year, trying to cope and come to terms with what was happening to the woman he loved so very much.  It brutally broke his heart and his spirit.  My siblings and I feel like we are grieving the loss of our mother.  It is hard to come to terms with the fact that the qualities that make up someone you know so well are disappearing and yet the body remains, and the brain cries out in confusion as slowly, cruelly more and more is forgotten.  And I carry guilt everyday that I didn't see it coming.  I wasn't there to help, although I know that no matter what 'help' I think I could have given would not have stopped the disease from taking over.  So now I'm doing something I can do and with Julia and Katie, I will be trekking 26 miles for my mom, for Bob, and many others to raise money to fund research and positive action to help alleviate those suffering now, those genetically at risk and, ultimately, to find a cure.