Hi Sam,

I searched for "train journey alt.support.alzheimers" at
groups.google.com and came up with this.  Enjoy.

Darryl.

============================================================
From: Kalinda (email snipped)
Subject: Alzheimers as a Journey
Date: 2003-08-11 15:50:36 PST

I am going on a long journey by train. As I begin, the city
skyscrapers and county landscape look familiar. As I continue my
journey, the view reminds me of times gone by and I feel relaxed and
comfortable. The other passengers on the train appear to be feeling
the same way and I engage in pleasant conversation with them.

As the journey progresses, things begin to look different.  The
buildings have odd shapes and the trees don't look quite the way I
remember them. I know that they are buildings and tress, but something
about them is not quite right. Maybe I'm in a different country with
different architecture and plant life. It feels a bit strange, even
unnerving.

I decide to ask the other passengers about the strangeness I feel, but
I notice that they seem unperturbed. They are barely taking notice of
the passing scenery. Maybe they have been here before. I ask some
questions but nothing seems different to them. I wonder if my mind is
playing tricks on me. I decide to act as if everything looks all
right, but because it does not, I have to be on guard. This places
some tension on me, but I believe I can tolerate it for the remainder
of the trip. I do, however, find myself becoming so preoccupied with
appearing all right that my attention is diverted from the passing
scenery.

After some time I look out the window again, and this time I know that
something is wrong. Everything looks strange and unfamiliar!  There is
no similarity to anything I can recall from the past. I must do
something. I talk to the other passengers about the strangeness I
feel.

They look dumbfounded and when they answer, they talk in a new
language.  Why won't they talk in English I wonder? They look at me
knowingly and with sympathy. I've got to get to the bottom of this, so
I keep after  them to tell me where the train is and where it is
going. The only answers I get are in this strange language, and even
when I talk, my words sound strange to me. Now I am truly frightened.

At this point I figure that I have to get off this train  and find my
way home. I had not bargained for this when I started. I get  up to
leave and bid a pleasant good-bye. I don't get very far, though, as
the other passenger's stop me, and take me back to my seat. It seems
they want me to stay on the train whether I want to or not. I try to
explain, but they just talk in that strange language.

Outside the window the scenery is getting even more  frightening.
Strange, inhuman-looking beings peer into the window at me. I decide
to make a run for it. The other passengers are not paying much
attention to me, so I slip out of my seat and quietly walk toward the
back of the car. There's a door! It is difficult to push, but I must.
It begins to open and I push harder. Maybe now I will get away. Even
though it looks pretty strange out there, I know I will never find my
way home if I do not get off the train. I am just ready to jump when
hands  suddenly appear from nowhere and grab me from behind. I try to
get away.  I try to fight them off, but I can feel them pulling me
back to my seat.  I realize now that I will never get off this train;
I will never get home.

How sad I feel. I did not say good-bye to my friends or children. As
far as I know they do not know where I am. The passengers  look
sympathetic, but they do not know how said I feel. Maybe if they knew
they would let me off the train. I stop smiling, stop eating, stop
trying to talk and avoid looking out the window. The passengers look
worried. They force me to eat. It is difficult because I am too sad to
be hungry.

I have no choice now. I have to go along with the passengers because
they seem to know where the journey will end. Maybe they will get me
there safely. I fervently wish that I had never started out on this
journey, but I know I cannot go back.

(Dawson, et. al., 1993 xiv-xv)

I am going on a long journey by train. As I begin, the city
skyscrapers and county landscape look familiar. As I continue my
journey, the view reminds me of times gone by and I feel relaxed and
comfortable. The other passengers on the train appear to be feeling the
same way and I engage in pleasant conversation with them.

            As the journey progresses, things begin to look different.
The buildings have odd shapes and the trees don't look quite the way I
remember them. I know that they are buildings and tress, but something
about them is not quite right. Maybe I'm in a different country with
different architecture and plant life. It feels a bit strange, even
unnerving.

            I decide to ask the other passengers about the strangeness
I feel, but I notice that they seem unperturbed. They are barely taking
notice of the passing scenery. Maybe they have been here before. I ask
some questions but nothing seems different to them. I wonder if my mind
is playing tricks on me. I decide to act as if everything looks all
right, but because it does not, I have to be on guard. This places some
tension on me, but I believe I can tolerate it for the remainder of the
trip. I do, however, find myself becoming so preoccupied with appearing
all right that my attention is diverted from the passing scenery.

            After some time I look out the window again, and this time
I know that something is wrong. Everything looks strange and unfamiliar!
There is no similarity to anything I can recall from the past. I must do
something. I talk to the other passengers about the strangeness I feel.
They look dumbfounded and when they answer, they talk in a new language.
Why won't they talk in English I wonder? They look at me knowingly and
with sympathy. I've got to get to the bottom of this, so I keep after
them to tell me where the train is and where it is going. The only
answers I get are in this strange language, and even when I talk, my
words sound strange to me. Now I am truly frightened.

            At this point I figure that I have to get off this train
and find my way home. I had not bargained for this when I started. I get
up to leave and bid a pleasant good-bye. I don't get very far, though,
as the other passenger's stop me, and take me back to my seat. It seems
they want me to stay on the train whether I want to or not. I try to
explain, but they just talk in that strange language.

            Outside the window the scenery is getting even more
frightening. Strange, inhuman-looking beings peer into the window at me.
I decide to make a run for it. The other passengers are not paying much
attention to me, so I slip out of my seat and quietly walk toward the
back of the car. There's a door! It is difficult to push, but I must. It
begins to open and I push harder. Maybe now I will get away. Even though
it looks pretty strange out there, I know I will never find my way home
if I do not get off the train. I am just ready to jump when hands
suddenly appear from nowhere and grab me from behind. I try to get away.
I try to fight them off, but I can feel them pulling me back to my seat.
I realize now that I will never get off this train; I will never get home.

            How sad I feel. I did not say good-bye to my friends or
children. As far as I know they do not know where I am. The passengers
look sympathetic, but they do not know how said I feel. Maybe if they
knew they would let me off the train. I stop smiling, stop eating, stop
trying to talk and avoid looking out the window. The passengers look
worried. They force me to eat. It is difficult because I am too sad to
be hungry.

            I have no choice now. I have to go along with the
passengers because they seem to know where the journey will end. Maybe
they will get me there safely. I fervently wish that I had never started
out on this journey, but I know I cannot go back.

        (Dawson, et. al., 1993 xiv-xv)

Many thanks to those who re-posted this for me.

Sam