Reflections from a Persevering Teen

This post was authored by a sibling who lives with a brother diagnosed with complex disabilities. Originally, this was a college English essay I was asked to review. The author paints a painfully vivid picture of truth: support for the whole family is often overlooked. For this reason, I hope this post sheds light on the family needs, thus offering many options for serving those in need.

Reflections from a Persevering Teen

Hamsters are crafty little creatures, surrounded by a world of squeaky plastic tubes and tunnels that begin to stink quickly. One warm, breezy night, I had the pleasure of sanitizing my hamster’s cage . . . well, a pleasure for him. I unclicked the door to the cage and placed my furry hamster in his plastic ball. My mother joined me as this cleaning process had become a time of laughter we shared together. Yet, not this day. My mother had a heavy heart, and I already knew why.

Arguments between my mom and dad had intensified over months, and my mother had finally reached the breaking point. My parents were splitting up. To think that my mom and dad, the pillars of strength whom I had trusted and loved, would divorce was mind boggling. The depth of pain in my mother’s heart overwhelmed her.

I had watched from a distance their marriage crumbling—their anger and rage having reached a fever-pitch. Smashing my wet palms to my forehead, I breathed heavily, not knowing how bad it would get in the months ahead. Little did I know that my mother and I would be forced to forsake a life I knew in the green hills of California in order to bounce from hotel to hotel for weeks on end until we finally landed in a new state.

But, that night, just as the hamster’s cage sat broken down in the front yard, my hopes for a perfect family were shattered. Was it my brother’s fault? His disabilities exasperated my mom, and she always seemed distracted. But what could she do? Was it my fault? I always tried to make everyone happy. Or was it my sister’s fault? She was the tough, favored one, so how could it land on her shoulders?

I watched my hamster dance about in his clean cage. He climbed the tubes and ran on the wheel, in love all over again with his comfortable home. I envied his security. I trudged up the cold, lonely stairway, yearning for insight, gently laid his cage down on the desk my mother had built. Then, I wept. Tears of sadness and anger and rage all in one setting mingled and saturated the cold carpet in that small Californian home.

Years later, I realized those 13 years of life were similar to my little hamster’s cage; predictable and clean. Yet, he never encountered the scars, the shredding of one’s hopes and beliefs; his world did not depend on faith as mine did. I’m still confused at times; trying to run back to safety like my hamster’s cage provided; yet trying to find my own way to a deep faith in God which is tough for a hurting person to understand.

It’s these things, pain and hurt and confusion and sorrow that press us to the end of ourselves. God allows that for a purpose. My disabled brother, my parents' divorce, being rejected, encountering failure, and life’s constant frustrations force me to find a steadfast place to stand. I’m finding my way through this path of life; like you, it is easy to blame the divorce or disability or disaster or what have you; that only adds to the misery.

We’ve all got a sob story or two; but through all time, hasn’t that been the rockbed of faith? God allows the fiery, fierce trials to forge a faith in those who choose to believe. I share my thoughts with you as a fellow traveler in life, entering the fire and being shaped by Christ.

—Anonymous

Reality at Its Best

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

I had become a statistic. Again and again, I had heard about the extremely high divorce rate among couples supporting a disabled loved one. And then I joined that “extremely high” category—a divorced mom with children ages 8, 12, and 13. The years as a single parent were difficult. Misunderstanding, judgment, and condemnation had driven me to the point that I was never, ever going to consider remarriage. Then, along came a “good friend”—to whom I had clearly communicated the fact that I would never marry again. He was patient, loving, and kind and put up with my utter resistance. Toban and I married in 2009.

But before we married, I had to lay some ground rules for how to date a single mom with an autistic son. I recently came across the list below and had to share it with Toban because I had told him every single thing on that list when we started dating. He recalls my telling him these things. He put my fears at rest then about my complicated situation, and he continues to put my fears to rest. In that, I take heart!

I understand divorce and the confusion it causes. May the Lord lead you in the way you should go. And never hesitate to remind your significant other of number 10! If you have more to add to the list, please share with us and add some comments.

TOP TEN THINGS A GUY SHOULD KNOW
BEFORE DATING AN AUTISM MOM

1. Be patient. . . . My children and I are worth it.
2. Be understanding. . . . I may have to cancel at the last minute.
3. Be thoughtful. . . . If I did cancel, offer to come over for movie night and bring take-out that is kid-approved.
4. Sometimes I have a short fuse. . . . Remember what I deal with every day.
5. My children come first. . . . Deal with it.
6. Some things in my normal everyday life might be more than you can handle. . . . If that’s the case, say so from the beginning.
7. Being a mom is a full-time job. Being the mom of a kid with special needs is like having two full-time jobs. Being a single mom is like having three.
8. Never say “I love you” unless you mean it. We don’t have time for games.
9. Be kind. . . . That shouldn’t need an explanation.
10. My house is always a mess. It’s my reality.¹

 

1. Taken from Jennifer Hodgdon, “Top Ten Things a Guy Should Know before Dating an Autism Mom,” Autism Single Moms Blog Spot, http://autismsinglemomsblogspot.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/top-ten-things-a-guy-should-know-before-dating-an-autism-mom/, accessed May 15, 2012.

Soul Truth

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

You won’t believe what happened in a very formal church, years ago. My son, Jonathan, not quite one year old, had the fantastic gift of throwing up everything he ate. So much so that I thought I would catch a lung at some point. I had moved to Dallas several years before and life had been tough so I ventured out and visited a church. I needed the reminder that God was still on His throne, sovereign, and always faithful.

Jon had so many struggles that getting out the door for church, with three kids under the age of five, was nearly impossible. Eventually, we made it and just as we walked into the formal, gorgeous, well-known, and respected church, Jon began to empty the contents of his stomach everywhere. I heard a big splat, and then Jon gasped for air, and then another splash, which spread across the beautifully polished, expensive tile. One usher came over with such care and offered to help. In the meantime, I grabbed a stack of church bulletins, hoping they would soak up something. On that day I discovered paper does not soak up vomit effectively! I also learned a few other lessons:

1) God doesn’t care about how we try to look, but He does care about our hearts. That is freeing.
2) We can’t possibly live without some messes, either inside or outside our lives. That is relieving.
3) Pride refuses help, but humility welcomes help as God’s hand reaching to you. That is refreshing.

I also learned some funny lessons:

1) Because vomit and stink go together, wear your junk clothes.
2) If throwing up is even a slight possibility, stay home.
3) Church bulletins don’t soak up a single drop of anything, so carry paper towels.

I recently found this prayer written by a man who lost his children and needed some help drying his tears. I love his humble, thoroughly honest words.

Lord of reality
make me real
not plastic
synthetic
pretend phony
an actor playing out his part
hypocrite.
I don’t want
to keep a prayer list
but to pray
nor agonize to find Your will
but to obey
what I already know
to argue
theories of inspiration
but submit to Your Word.
I don’t want
to explain the difference
between eros and philos
and agape
but to love.
I don’t want
to sing as if I mean it
I want to mean it.
I don’t want
to tell it like it is
but to be it
like You want it.
I don’t want
to think another needs me
but I need him
else I’m not complete.
I don’t want
to tell others how to do it
but to do it
to have to be always right
but admit it
when I’m wrong.
I don’t want
to be a census taker
but an obstetrician
nor an involved person
a professional
but a friend.
I don’t want
to be insensitive
but to hurt
where other people hurt
nor to say
I know how you feel
but to say God knows
and I’ll try
if you’ll be patient with me
and meanwhile I’ll be quiet.
I don’t want
to scorn the clichés
of others
but to mean everything I say
including this.¹

 

1. Joseph Bayly, “A Song of Single-Mindedness,” in Psalms of My Life (Wheaton, Ill.: Tyndale House, 1978), 40. Used by permission.

 

Porcupineish

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed recently, which is a nice way of saying I was cranky. It hadn't been a superb week, so perhaps my snappish self emerged from hibernation that morning. By sundown, my attitude had gone from snappish to cantankerous to pretty much porcupineish. Usually, I try to find humor or a hobby to enjoy, but that didn't really help. Since my quills were coming unglued—and sticking into my loved ones—I did a little study of porcupines; the news wasn't so likable. Just read on:

1) The word porcupine means "spined pig" or "quill pig." That day, I could relate.
2) The porcupine uses its sharp quills for body armor. If the porcupine hits an animal with its quills, the quills become embedded in the animal; and each quill has about a dozen barbs. Once implanted in an attacker's flesh, the barbs swell from the surrounding skin moisture and heat which force the quill in deeper. Death can occur if an infection sets in or if the quill prevents the victim from swallowing water or food.
3) Finally, porcupines are solitary, isolated animals.¹

It's nothing new to discuss people and their animal-like traits. Take a good look at Scripture. Remember the hard-working ant, the gentle dove, the shrewd serpent, and the sparrow's needs being supplied by Christ? Most commonly in Scripture, people are referred to as sheep; now that's one humbling study! Porcupines are never mentioned in Scripture, but that doesn't mean we're off the hook. So often, Christians behave like porcupines, which is so opposite to God's desire that Christians be in harmony with others—that is, with others, they are honest, kind, peace-giving, merciful, and gracious, to name a few.

As I pondered that porcupineish day I had experienced, some saddening similarities between porcupines and my attitude sunk into my soul. Thus, we in the body of Christ need to remember a few things:

1) We often are well armored and prepared to fight against what we don't like.
2) When we don't like "whatever"—and the list can be endless—we speak words which sink quill-like into another's soft soul.
3) When we attack others, the barbs sink deeply, and those people can suffer from the pain of being attacked. Some quills we use have names: gossip, betrayal, rejection, pride, false hope, pretense, judgment, and resentment. Thus, our porcupineish actions cut off the circulation to Christ's transforming work.
4) Finally and most specifically for many within the disabled population, church often is a place where porcupines reside. Many visitors to a church may never return because of the quill punctures they receive to their already beaten-down souls.

If you act like a porcupine, you have work to do. I apologized to my family for being armored and quilly. And my own soul has been pierced with many barbs, but the Lord can remove them if I'm humbled and willing to let Him do so. That's one I'm working on today as I write.

Do you need to take off the quilled body armor? Then ask for forgiveness, help someone in need, and speak with kindness. Or have you been pierced by a porcupine? Then pull out the quills of bitterness . . . PULL THEM OUT! Remember, we are all sheep that need direction. The Lord can guide us past the porcupines . . . and make sure we don't take on their qualities as well.

 

1. NatureWorks, "North American Porcupine," New Hampshire Public Television, http://www.nhptv.org/natureworks/porcupine.htm (accessed April 24, 2012).

Keep in mind that Insight for Living Ministries cannot endorse everything other Web sites print, so we encourage you to approach with wisdom and discernment all Web sites referenced on insight.org or insightworld.org.

Ageless

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

It’s confession time. I am now 44 years old . . . I think. I remember at age 13 thinking that people in their 40s had reached the summit of being “over the hill” and were gaining speed down the back side of life. Older people (ha! those 40-somethings) seemed to my 13-year-old mind to be constantly irritated, as if they had breathed acrid air for 40-ish years. Between ages 14 and 44, life has been to me a highly skilled teacher, revealing that age and attitude are not connected at the hip. I used to be bothered when my plans fell apart . . . annoyed by people who are bummers to be with . . . bitter when I was judged by others . . . selfish—which makes people very lonely . . . suffocated by anxiety . . . insecure . . . and controlling toward people, which drives them nuts—not a far drive.

The skilled teacher—that is, life—still teaches me today and uses pain as part of its curriculum. At any age, those bothered, judgmental, bitter, selfish, anxious, and insecure people might try to deny they have these unhealthful attitudes, but acknowledging one’s own flaws is the very thing one must do for attitude—and might I say—soul change.

Life is very painful. It doesn’t always agree with our plans or provide happiness. Life sometimes lets us down and rarely offers a satisfying answer to our self-focused questions. I found the following quote supposedly attributed to Winston Churchill very revealing.

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.¹

Remember what Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians. Get this: his living conditions were less than desirable—he was a prisoner of Rome, clad with iron chains every day to a Roman solider. Yet, the theme of his letter was on attitude—the attitude of joy.

I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear. (Philippians 1:12–14 NIV)

I picture Paul grinning ear to ear, perhaps thinking, Who knew? I don’t have to yell because these guys are chained to me. They are the captives, not me. How could he write this? Because his focus was undivided and fully fixed on God’s work, not on his own comfort.

Focusing fully on Christ is especially important for those with special needs—and for those of us who love and care for them. Focusing fully on Christ is the only way we can deal with the pain of life. This connects directly with Paul’s words in the book of Romans:

We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:3 NIV, emphasis added)

Isn’t hope what we all long for? Hope infuses us with joy; it helps us to overlook and to undertake what we otherwise would not have. My dad, Chuck, has said, “Most of life is just showin’ up.” Showin’ up does not demand brains or brawn; it does demand that we examine what’s behind our attitudes—be it disappointment, or anger, or whatever—and make some choices, so that we might glorify God by becoming more like Christ.

 

1. Churchill by Himself: The Definitive Collection of Quotations, ed. Richard Langworth (New York: Public Affairs, 2008), 578. (Langworth is of the opinion that this quote is misattributed to Winston S. Churchill. The actual source is unknown.)

Getting Out the Door

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

At my house, getting out the door, especially to church, is almost an Olympic event. There are wardrobe crises, tired teenager tensions, sibling struggles—at times it’s more a combat zone than a home. I’ve observed many families with the same struggles. But isn’t it amazing how our attitudes change when we finally clamor into church and sit down? Those early-morning entanglements dissipate, and we worship. And no matter what went on before, God is delighted to have us there.

When my son Jon was born with disabilities, the freedom to do things like get out the door with ease was removed. I’d never considered that a freedom until it was lost. But now I hold in high regard those without the freedom of ease . . . ease in movement, seeing, hearing, tying shoes, brushing hair. In his book, Always Looking Up, Michael J. Fox describes his morning routine:

I blindly fumble a plastic vial from the nightstand, dry-swallow a couple of pills. . . . I swing my legs around to the side of the bed, and the instant my feet hit the floor, the two of them are in an argument. A condition called “dystonia,” a regular complement to Parkinson’s, cramps my feet severely and curls them inward, pressing my ankles toward the floor and the soles of my feet toward each other as though they were about to close together in prayer. . . . The aching will persist for the next twenty minutes or so. . . . 

Grasping the toothpaste is nothing compared to the effort it takes to coordinate the two-handed task of wrangling the toothbrush and strangling out the line of paste onto the bristles.¹

Fox explains how the disease overtakes the body, affecting his emotions, intellect, and physical, social, and spiritual well-being. Even as I type, I’m reminded to be thankful for the freedom of controlled movement, of small muscles working together.

As I raise Jon, I realize how many freedoms he will never have. Throughout life, he will regularly struggle to get out the door . . . yet, right now on Sundays, he is the one person in our house who doesn’t complain. He puts on his favorite suit and tie and finds no reason to fuss. In that, he is more free than most.

Job recorded these words right after a devastating loss:

The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
may the name of the LORD be praised. (Job 1:21 NIV)

This verse brings to mind a few things we all should remember as we get out the door and face the world.

1. To those with bodily ease—praise God for your freedom. It’s a gift, not a right. Call each part of your body to praise Him. Thank Him for your eyes, arms, legs, back, mind . . . every part. When someone else is slow, messy, shaky, or mentally unstable, resist judgment. You have no idea what that person went through just to get out the door.
2. To those without bodily ease—I deeply admire you and applaud you for your courage, determination, endurance, and humility. You’re a hero, a person of grand character. You long to be free and whole in heaven, but you’re changing lives right here without saying a word.
3. To all of us, with and without bodily ease—learn to love one another, serve one another, and live peacefully together.

1. Michael J. Fox, Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist (New York: Hyperion, 2009), 2.

The Serenity Prayer

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

We have just begun a new year. Hopes are high, goals are made, and efforts are in place to accomplish what we have set out to do. One thing is for sure: surprises await us all. Some will be great, and some will be painful. I have found the following prayer and its personal application helpful when my sorrows outnumber my joys.

 

 

GOD, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the
Things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.

Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it.
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely
happy with Him forever in the next.

Amen

Now apply your circumstances to this prayer.

Prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

[my child’s disability, my divorce, losing my job, financial loss] 

The courage to change the things I can

[my attitude, my beliefs, my behavior, my perspectives, my values] 

And the wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time

[my child’s smile, soul, my partner’s strengths, my home, my abilities to think or move, taste and smell, talk and read, my needs being met by the Lord]

Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace

[I cast my anxieties and worries onto you, Lord, so I may be given your peace which will surpass my understanding]

Taking, as he did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will

[I place my will under Your sovereign control, desiring that this cup shall pass but welcoming Your call and walking obediently according to Your will]

 
That I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with Him forever in the next. Amen

[Lord, my faith is cultivated in the refiner’s fire (1 Peter 1:6–7), and I choose to believe that my suffering will produce perseverance, character, and hope (Romans 5:1–4) ]

What Do You Look For?

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

Noise can distract us from the voice of the Spirit, but God often speaks in the silence. In a rare moment recently, my house was quiet. So I chose to sit and carefully observe the room I was in, and a number of emotions flooded my soul.

My daughter’s art supplies rested by her canvas along with her iPod, Netbook, and jacket. I thought of our past and recognized that I hadn’t shown her enough grace. I felt impressed that I needed to ask her for forgiveness. My older son’s shoes rested by the back door because he is responsible for feeding the dogs and cleaning up after them. I had focused on his “being responsible,” but I hadn’t told him in a long time that I appreciated him. I saw my husband’s lunch bag, and it reminded me of his consistent work and provision. I noticed my younger son’s tattered backpack, which represented how hard he worked—in spite of a disability—to do what comes naturally for others. Finally, my stepson’s iPod reminded me how he reaches into my world with music we both enjoy.

I felt convicted because I didn’t recognize what God calls us to pursue: grace, forgiveness, love, affirmation, gentleness, mercy, and tenderness. I was reminded of a song I had recently heard that spoke to me. I ask you to find a quiet spot and reflect on what you look for and expect in others.

'Cause there’s so much good in the worst of us
So much bad in the best of us
It never makes sense for any of us
To criticize the rest of us
We’ll just find what we’re looking for
We’ll find it and so much more.¹

Lord, thank You for Your grace and Your merciful convictions that remind us to focus on grace and truth. May we become seekers of quiet moments and allow You to speak to and shape our lives. I ask You to remind me to follow Your ways. In Christ alone I pray, amen.

 

1. Amy Grant, “Find What You’re Looking For,” in Somewhere Down the Road (Brentwood, Tenn.: Sparrow Records, 2010)

 

Second Homes

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

There is a place I sometimes used to call my second home: the waiting room. I’ll never forget the hours I spent with my special-needs son in waiting rooms—rooms with foam-filled sofas, tattered magazines, crying children, and tired-looking people who were staring at smudged, blandly painted walls. If there were windows, I watched the outside world whirl by—beautiful women out and about, men in pressed suits connected to cell phones. I would get stuck in my thoughts . . . somewhere between envious and anxious, weary and worried. I wondered when the waiting would end.

Maybe you have been there or are there now, feeling secluded, lonesome, or friendless. I felt guilty at times, not attending to my other children. I would ask myself, “Who will make their meals or help them with their homework or listen to their day? I called those days “mazy” days . . . because I felt as though I had no map, no short cuts, and no destination.

Today, I’ve come to realize those experiences were not about “waiting,” though it sometimes felt that way. God has not forgotten you, though it might feel that way. I remember writing thank you notes; reading excellent “theological” magazines like People, In Style, and Fitness; eating chips and salsa; filing my nails; twisting my hair; and hating the slow passing of time. Then, (duh) I picked up my Bible and began to search in it for words like alone, help, wait, how long, and sorrow. I discovered that, really, the One waiting was Jesus, invisibly present and patiently longing for me to turn to Him for help. With all distractions removed, God reached into my soul and filled it with His truth. It’s not always fun, but it’s the making of who you are.

Recently, I came across this poem that I hope brings comfort to you today. After you read it, pick up God’s Word, and be filled with His love and care for you.

I thank God for bitter things;
They’ve been a ‘friend to grace’;
They’ve driven me from paths of ease
To storm the secret place.

I thank Him for the friends who failed
To fill my heart’s deep need;
They’ve driven me to the Savior’s feet,
Upon His love to feed.

I’m grateful too, through all life’s way
No one could satisfy,
And so I’ve found in God alone
My rich, my full supply!¹

 

1. Florence White Willett, as quoted in Charles R. Swindoll, Paul: A Man of Grace and Grit(Nashville: W Publishing, 2002), 242.

Wishing for Something Different

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

All was quiet in the office that day—all but the questions and quandaries that had plagued their minds over the past year. The doctor’s confirmed diagnosis resolved one set of questions, raised another set of questions, and removed their hope for a better outcome. Nothing was unusual in the months that followed—pain persisted, friendships faded, isolation invaded, and delight in life dwindled.

What happened to this imaginary family is not an imaginary situation to many families today; it is reality. It might be your reality or the reality of a close friend. Whether Alzheimer’s disease has invaded your family or the family of a friend, medical reviews report that the increase in the number of people diagnosed with the disease has created a “sandwich generation,” with parents placed in the middle of raising their own kids and also giving at least 20–30 hours a week of unpaid time to caring for a disabled parent.

A 2011 study by the Alzheimer’s Association reports that 1 in 8 Americans, aged 65 and over, have Alzheimer’s disease. Because the care-giving demands are so high, more than 60 percent of family caregivers live with high levels of stress. Thirty-three percent report symptoms of depression. The big picture reveals that caregivers provide 17 billion hours of unpaid care, valued at $202.6 billion.¹

Candidly, families run the grave risk of becoming embittered over time because caregiving demands are high and potentially costly, and family and friends are often at a loss as to how to help. These factors, along with negotiating the complex maze of insurance and medical and nursing care, create a precarious predicament when a loved one is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

However, there are a few simple things you can do to help manage the stress and emotional roller coaster that comes with caring for an Alzheimer’s patient.

1) Create a list of simple needs that others can meet for you, like running errands such as picking up pharmaceutical items or laundry, or helping transport the kids to their various activities, or cooking a meal. People desire to help; let them know how.

2) Allow others to care for you. Plan outings and establish e-mail connections with others on a regular basis. Connect with someone who will sit and allow you to weep over what you are going through. Find someone who will attend doctor appointments with your family, someone who will be present. Visit Web sites for organizations such as the Family Caregiver Alliance (www.caregiver.org) and the Alzheimer’s Association (www.alz.org) for support and encouragement.

3) Allow the Lord to soften your soul. It is still difficult for me to ask for and accept help—a sign of pride, not strength. I constantly have to remind myself of Peter’s comforting and challenging words: “Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:6–7). The Lord cares for you and for your loved one with Alzheimer’s. Humble yourself before Him, throw your burdens on Him, and allow others to minister to you.

I wrote the majority of this blog shortly before my husband’s father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Now that we’ve received the news of his disease, we’ve decided to make him a blanket out of squared pieces of fabric. Each square will represent happy memories he’s had throughout life.

I encourage you, as a family, to draw near to each other. Remind each other that you’re in this together—that you’re on the same path.

 

1. “2011 Alzheimer’s Disease Facts and Figures,” Alzheimer’s Association (March 2011), http://www.alz.org/downloads/Facts_Figures_2011.pdf, accessed November 22, 2011.