It’s Glen Campbell’s 80th birthday today. Not that he will know because he is in the final stages of Alzheimer’s. The Rhinestone Cowboy, the Wichita Lineman is now in a ‘full time care facility’, unable to speak or communicate, not even knowing what his guitar is for. Is there an illness that is more cruel than Alzheimer’s?
When Campbell himself announced he had the disease, I was struck by a number of things, but most of all his courage in opening up about it. Not only did he tell the world that he had Alzheimer’s, he allowed a film to be made about it, I’ll Be Me. A three week farewell tour turned into a worldwide tour with some 150 dates. His memory ravaged, he sang the words from strategically placed monitors around the stage, sometimes starting the same song twice before his band, which included members of his family, gently corrected him. But despite the effects of this evil condition, Campbell’s singing voice and, even more remarkably, his guitar playing were undiminished. The sets were short – barely an hour most nights – but no one cared. Everyone knew that soon they would be losing him and they were just grateful to see him one more time.
Campbell’s very public acknowledgement of Alzheimer’s was in 2011 but his descent has been as inexorable as it has been rapid. The movie about his journey is both inspiring and painful in roughly equal measures. But the journey always ends in the same place. It is somewhere none of us would ever wish to be, or wish anyone else to be.
If you have never experienced the effects of Alzheimer’s, prepare to be shocked when and if you finally do. I am not a doctor, nor even an expert on Alzheimer’s, but it’s shocking every time I come across it. The memory loss, the constant repetition, the sudden embarrassing comments or actions, all of which come from within the person affected, but the person knows not where it came from and doesn’t remember it anyway.
There have been ructions in Campbell’s family as his condition has worsened. There was criticism by some family members about his wife. I know not if any of it was justified – all we see are glimpses from a distance. Really, it’s not for us to judge. All I could see was true sadness. The occasional shafts of sunlight were, all too soon, cast into the gloom.
Glen Campbell’s illness was played out very publicly. He is now in the final stages and we now need to see no more. He bravely told us about his journey until the time came when we, quite rightly, could not be permitted to see no more.
200,000 new diagnoses of dementia are made in the UK every year. That’s a packed Wembley Stadium two and a bit times over. Every year. It is inconceivable that if you live to a reasonable age that you will not, in some way, come across it.
In the end, there is nothing good to come out of Alzheimer’s, except death. For the person with the disease, life begins to end and soon it ends altogether. S/he is alive in the literal sense but dead in all others. Nothing to live for but then again not really knowing anything at all. We put loved pets “to sleep” at times like these. I would hope that, if it happens to me, I’d be taken on a final break to Switzerland.
Glen Campbell, bless him, gave us some of the most memorable tunes ever and I thank him for it. I hope someday soon his family can look back on his legacy and all the love he had to give, in peace and in the knowledge that he has escaped the cruel indignity of this, the most vile disease. His musical brilliance enhanced many of our lives and he deserved a far better ending than this. Alzheimer’s has no preferences, though, and will cut anyone down. Please, science; find a cure. And soon.
