Gone are the days of invincibility. I am no longer under the assumption that I can do all the herculean things. That youth-given naiveness that helps us feel it could never happen to us – that is gone, too. It was replaced by a Murphy’s Law sort of assurance that, if the bad is coming, it surely has me in its sights. So, I worry. I have a PhD. Occasionally, I accept commissioned- based worrying assignments for others. Right now, my specialty is personal worry, but I may branch out to corporate worry soon. It is a trade. Much like a plumber who learned the intricacies of the job from a parent, my mother was a 1st class worrier, too. She fretted over babies taken out in the night air and people who didn’t comb all the knots out of little girl’s hair. But, her specialty was weather worry. That woman could obsess over a dark cloud like nothing you’ve ever seen. My worry work pales in comparison. Lately, I’ve been worried about my health. I worry about cancer recurrences. I worry about heart issues. I worry about future homelessness. I worry about zombies. I worry about snakes. But, mostly, these days, I worry about Alzheimer’s. Am I predestined to suffer the same fate as my mother? Will I forget the faces of the people I love the most? Will I slowly lose the ability to drive, to walk, to talk? And, can I stop it?
I caught a snippet of a news story this week. Ordinarily, I honor a no news rule. I do a fine job of worrying without being prompted. “Yada yada. Blah blah blah. Alzheimer’s drug trials. Call this number.” They are looking for participants to try a new drug, an experimental treatment targeting people of a certain age group who don’t have any dementia symptoms but who fall into certain criteria, one being a familial history. Could this be the answer? Can I cheat Alzheimer’s with an experimental drug? I worry about big pharma. So, I looked up the side effects of the drug, Lecanemab, which were far more worrisome than the disease. Then, I became fully engulfed in a recent exposé on the entire amyloid plaque theory that included bad information and a shamed researcher who falsified clinical trials. But, if this isn’t the answer, what can I do? Turns out, I can do a lot.
Many doctors have categorized Alzheimer’s as Type 3 Diabetes. I’m not the best person to explain the loss of glucose uptake in the frontal lobe or how to use ketones for fuel to feed brain neurons, but if this interests you, You-Tube is chock full of doctors who excel in this area. So, I set out on a no carbs or sugar journey toward brain health. That full immersion deep dive steered me right into the second thing the pros say protects brain health. Stop drinking alcohol. Wait, don’t cancel me just yet. I am still a fan of the occasional glass of cabernet, but maybe I should lean on green tea a bit more and Robert Mondavi a bit less. If you got that one, you’re my kind of people. Shunning adult beverages catapulted me toward a study conducted in 2019 by UT Southwestern showing moderate, regular exercise could hold Alzheimer’s at bay better than any pill. So, I use my own body weight to punish myself on a regular basis. Great, you think. She eats a boring diet, she doesn’t drink, and she sweats regularly. She is a barrel of fun. Turns out, there is a final ingredient to this anti-dementia cocktail, and it is the most difficult hurdle in the race. One of the secrets to avoiding any disease, the ultimate overall life hack, is good sleep. I stink at sleeping.
My mom was a 3 am riser for as long as I can remember. Correct, the woman got up at 3 o’clock in the morning. I guess only substandard worriers lollygag around in bed until 6 am. Olympian worry experts like my mother need a jump start, lest all the good worry topics are taken by the birds, along with the worms. Currently, there is a huge kerfuffle within the medical community. Does amyloid plaque buildup cause Alzheimer’s? Does amyloid plaque buildup have zero effect on brain health? It seems we really don’t know. These plaques do build up in the brain. Since the only time you can really assess brain anomalies is via autopsy, it’s difficult to know if they’re hurting us or just hanging around in everyone’s head.
But, science does show one thing clearly. Deep sleep increases brain fluid. Brain fluid clears amyloid plaque. So, if you ain’t sleepin, you ain’t cleanin. How does one do better in the area of sleep when sleep quality seems as impossible to change as my bad attitude toward exercise? You keep trying until you break your own will. That’s my answer. I started meditating before bed. I started stretching before bed. I started going to bed at the exact same time each night. I turn down my thermostat. I block all the little blinky lights. I sleep with white noise. I sleep with 3 fans (I know, I know – extreme). I try, but do not always succeed, not watching television in bed. I try, but almost never succeed, not using my phone in bed. I have carved myself a routing eerily similar to the one I used with my children: dim lights all through the house after dinner, bath time, lavender lotion, go to sleep. And, mostly, I tape my mouth. Uh huh. That is what I meant. As I lay my head on the pillow each night, I place a small piece of surgical tape over my lips so that I am forced to breathe only through my nose. Something about the dramatic increase of nitric oxide that hits my brain when I can only breathe through my nose makes me drift off like there’s an anesthesiologist standing at the foot of my bed right before the colonoscopy is starting. I fade into oblivion. I cannot snore. My tinnitus is dramatically improved. My vertigo is non-existent. I wake up, 8-9 hours later, with an annoying level of energy and this weird feeling that exercise isn’t that bad, after all. At this rate, I’m going to lose my worry job.
*Never take medical advice from me.
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