[.ca] Death in Slow Motion: A Memoir of a Daughter, Her ... (ISBN 0060937971)

This book is a KNOCKOUT!:
Lovely & fascinating piece of work. Her voice is so lucid, so deliberate, reminds me of what an old mentor advised me in my youth: "Full speed ahead, and strive for tone!" I loved the story, sad as it is. I loved the author's willingness to totally expose herself in order to honour her subject and craft. There wasn't a page in there that seemed like Ms. Cooney was hiding back behind it, it was all so up front...... And especially I loved the wonderful hilarious touching tough loose accurate lingo...... This is a beautiful piece of writing.

Ouch.:
Realistic, harrowing, and profoundly honest account of caring for someone heading down the steep slide of Alzheimer's. Author Cooney's grief when she realizes there's nothing she can do to prevent or slow down her mother's galloping dementia is stressful to read; I can't imagine what it must have been like to live it, especially as Cooney's mother was always elegant, talented, gracious, and witty. To watch her withering dependence and confusion is horrific, and things only get worse when Mom moves into their house. This is a very harrowing memoir, not only of the disease's gradual destruction of an individual, but also what it can do to the caregivers.

Great book for Alzheimer's caregivers...:
This was one of the most gripping books I've ever read! Her thorough account in coping with her mother's AD was both astonishing and appreciatively honest and graphic. "Death in Slow Motion" truly depicts the "phases of grief" when a loved one dies. Shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, acceptance-they are all there. With Cooney being her mother's caregiver, it seems appropriate that she didn't have any children. I don't know how anyone with children (young, living at home) could fit into this tangled web of sorts--but yet I'm sure in reality that it does happen. Though it was never mentioned, I'm curious if Cooney's brother had any children...? Twist of fate or bad luck--you call it. In one way, Cooney was fortunate that she worked from home. I'm sure she would have been late to work many times or altogether absent more often than not. Otherwise, she would probably have been out of a job only a few months into caring for her mother. Still, working away from home would have offered a reprieve away from her mother and maybe even reduced some of the depression. Clearly this was desperately needed since Cooney resorted to her vice alcohol; too, her boyfriend drank heavily. Drinking to avoid reality illustrated a truly horrible situation of her mother's disease and how it affected the family and loved ones. She even drank hard liquor while working! I can't even stay awake after two or three drinks...I had no idea that it was THAT awful; living with and caring for someone suffering from Alzheimer's disease and that it could literally drive the caregiver to utter madness... But, as Cooney mentioned, it was almost impossible for her to get any work done with her mother within an arm's reach. Her mother's constant needs and questions, disorientation and stomach ailments had Cooney going in circles or off in tangents- whichever you prefer. Her working until the 'wee' hours reminded me of when my children were newborns, I was awake at midnight doing laundry or cleaning the house, while baby (to a certain extent) slept. And yet comparatively, being a new mother is rewarding and gradually improves with time (the sleep factor anyway); however, I didn't get the feeling that Cooney (being an AD caregiver) felt this satisfaction at all! In fact, it was far more shocking for reason that she watched an amazing woman so full of life take a nose-dive into muddled and disorientated waters in unison with the continuous despondency invading everyone's lives. At the same time, she experienced anger at her mother for being like this and then guilt for thinking such thoughts-in no particular order. These can be inferred as 'parent-type' feelings that I think most parents go through (from lack of sleep, frustration from baby crying, etc.). Cooney undoubtedly experienced motherhood in a bizarre sort of way. This ongoing guilt and pain that Cooney suffered reveals her devotion and love for her mother. Though the details weren't there, it didn't seem that Cooney received adequate information on the progression of this disease. Or perhaps she already knew plenty about it but failed to say so-I don't know. But she seemed to be in constant denial of her mother's condition in thinking that she would 'be okay' in a home of assisted living. Then again, I suppose the last thing I would want to do is to live with knowing that I had placed my mother in a nursing home. On top of the guilt factors alone, the horrors she experienced with the inadequate hospitals or the homes overmedicating her mother-I can't blame Cooney's ongoing reluctance. What a relief (?) for her to finally acknowledge the biting reality of mother's disease consequently reaching out for help, stop lying staff workers of the various homes and eventually place her in a fitting environment. Definitely, "Death in Slow Motion" is vital for any caregiver in the vicious world of Alzheimer's disease. I debate with myself, if I'd recommend it for a person inflicted with the disease. The mother in me wants to protect the "child", per se, from the cruel but real world. Then again, if I was the person with AD I surely would want to know what was in store for me...

Death In Slow Motion: My Mother's Decent Into Alzheimer's:
After reading Eleanor Cooney's wonderful book, I feel much better equiped to handle my own mother's recent diagnosis of Alzheimer's Disease. Eleanor said things I was thinking, but was not able to put into words. I laughed, I cried, but mostly I got a ton of wonderful, very useful information. Thank you Eleanor for opening your heart and putting your voice on paper.

A book aptly named:
There are two things this book is not. It is neither for the faint of heart nor yet another manual describing Alzheimer symptoms and possible scenarios for dealing with them. Rather, it is the painful and painfully honest chronicle of Ms. Cooney's mother's descent into Alzheimer's disease. It is a story of fighting the good fight and knowing from day one that you will lose. It is a story barren of good answers and happy endings, but it is a true story, and a brutal one. For those who have lived their own variation of the author's story, this book will provide a certain comfort. For those not in the shadow of Alzheimer's, it is a grim and cautionary tale. The great strength of this book lies not in the story itself, but in the honesty with which it is told. It fully and unqualifiedly deserves to be read.