as alzheimer’s awareness month wraps up, healthing.ca’s nicholas sokic remembers his grandmother, elizabeth, who passed away from alzheimer’s. about six years ago, i visited my grandmother at the westbury long term care home in etobicoke, ontario. i had read about how music can positively impact dementia patients, and so i had brought along my ipod loaded with johnny cash and elvis presley songs from her era.with my mom watching expectantly, i queued up some songs and pressed play. i, at least, was expecting a miracle cure. we asked if she knew who we were.“no.”we were crushed. but, she continued, pointing to her head.“i don’t know who you are in here.”then, she pointed to her heart.“…but i know who you are in here.”a flicker. brief, bright, then gone. when your loved one is suffering from alzheimer’s you take what you can get.elizabeth o’brien was born on july 28th, 1923 and died on november 25th, 2017. in between her birth and death, she was adopted by a soldier and a nurse, grew up on a farm in nova scotia, moved to ontario and went back to school to become a nurse herself. she was twice widowed, raised five children, nine grandchildren and eleven great-grandchildren.her battle with alzheimer’s disease robbed her of those memories, the stories and growth that go with them as well as any chance the rest of us had to ask her. a long time before her actual passing, she lost the ability to regale with tales of her visits to ireland or of the grandfather i never knew.in some ways, illness carries with it a heaping of humble pie, a reminder of our tenuous existence. you could, for example, choose to take from your diagnosis a reminder of the value of every day. it could otherwise be noted that you faced death with a brave retrospective. not so with alzheimer’s, a disease that isn’t content to just take your dignity, but, through a series of increasingly larger thefts, your agency as well.there is no journey, only a descent, because there is no ‘you.’