Growing Up Alongside Alzheimer’s By Gabriella Pazos

When I was growing up, I was always told that I was my grandmother's favourite. Family members would tell me how much I reminded her of her own mother, and some of my earliest memories are tied to the stories she shared, the traditions she carried with her, and the love she gave to those around her.

When I was around five years old, my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease.

As a child, I did not fully understand what that diagnosis meant. What I did understand was that something was changing. As the years passed, I watched Alzheimer's slowly take pieces of the person I knew. By the time I was ten, she would often ask me the same questions repeatedly within minutes. Who am I? Where am I? What country are we in?

As I grew older, so did the disease I watched her memories fade. I watched her language change. I watched her mobility decline. I watched parts of her personality slowly disappear. Every year that I celebrated a new birthday seemed to coincide with another loss brought on by Alzheimer's.

It is difficult to describe what it feels like to watch someone you love slowly disappear while they are still physically present. Alzheimer's is a devastating disease because it does not only affect memory. It can affect communication, independence, relationships, identity, and the small pieces that make someone uniquely themselves. What impacted me most was knowing how hard my grandmother fought against it.

She loved nature and stayed physically active. She spoke multiple languages. She completed puzzles and word games. She journaled regularly to help preserve her memories and recall her days. She did everything she could to protect her mind. Yet Alzheimer's remained a disease she could not overcome. Watching her journey changed the way I think about health. As I entered my teenage years, I became increasingly aware of the importance of caring for both my mind and body. I spent more time outdoors. I started running. I developed hobbies that challenged me mentally, including reading, ceramics, and word puzzles. I became more intentional about limiting mindless scrolling and prioritizing activities that helped me stay present, engaged, and curious.

Today, in my early twenties, many of those habits remain part of my daily life.

Not because I believe they guarantee protection from Alzheimer's, but because they remind me that brain health deserves attention long before we begin to worry about aging. Too often, conversations about cognitive health begin when people are in their fifties, sixties, or seventies. Yet many of the habits associated with long term wellbeing begin much earlier. The way we move our bodies, challenge our minds, manage stress, build relationships, and care for our overall health accumulates over time.

My grandmother's experience also taught me something else. Confidence is built through evidence. When challenges arise in my life, I often reflect on obstacles I have already overcome. Whether it is training for a race, achieving a difficult goal, reading dozens of books in a year, or stepping outside my comfort zone, those experiences become proof that I can face the next challenge as well. The same principle applies to health. Small actions taken consistently over time matter. They build resilience. They strengthen confidence. They shape who we become.

Prioritizing brain health does not begin at forty, fifty, or sixty years old. It begins today. It begins with the choices we make, the habits we build, and the way we care for ourselves long before we believe we need to. Growing up alongside Alzheimer's changed the way I view health, resilience, and what it means to live well. For that reason, it remains one of the most important lessons my grandmother ever taught me. from this story, draw

-Gabriella Pazos

Member of Mind & Brain Student NetworkBC