The Chase for Yesterday

In the compulsive gambling community, there is a principle they call “the chase.” After acompulsive gambler hits his first really, really big win, he spends the rest of his lifechasing after the feeling of that first big score. Unfortunately, as with most addictions,more and more of the addictive substance produces less and less of a high. The person will never, ever feel the high of the first big win. You really cannot go home again!I am in the early-middle of the Alzheimer’s Chase. I am chasing the feeling I had prior tomy neurologist saying, “You have Alzheimer’s. We do have a medication which seems toslow the progress of the disease in some people, for some time.” Unfortunately, theprescribed Alzheimer’s medication produced what felt like gallons and gallons of stomach acid. So, naturally, I took another pill to get rid of the stomach acid. My gastroenterologist told me the acid had begun to wear away the lining of my esophagus.“Ultimately,” he said, “you might develop throat cancer unless something is done aboutthe acid.” Enter yet another proton pump inhibitor, and a pill for the anxiety I feltconcerning the possibility of throat cancer. As pills gained control over those sideeffects, I started to come to grips with the diagnosis of this life-shortening, and dignity-stripping, disease. I became really, really depressed! I took two pills twice a day in anattempt to bring my feelings back to the pre-Alzheimer’s days, or at least that was thegoal. Oh, and by the way, since I had just turned 60-years old, let’s throw in a slightly enlarged prostate and two more pills. Swallowing one and a half handfuls of drugs twicea day offered me the opportunity to become more anxious. How about doubling my anxiety medication? Having trouble with my libido—they have a blue pillfor that. Don’tforget the OTC (over-the-counter) stuff: vitamin E, vitamin C, vitamin Bs 1-100, fish oil,and a mega pill of multivitamins and minerals.I am an empty vessel into which I throw a hand and a half full of pills twice a day, and Idesperately want the pills to reconstruct me into the person I was the day before thechase began—the day before I went to my neurologist. When will the chase end for me? What will my costly and all-out efforts to participate in the chase accomplish for me? Will I ever be “myself” again?Compulsive pathological gambling affects 1%–2% of adults, and up to 4% of adults living within 50 miles of a casino. It is a brain disease that seems to be similar to disorderssuch as alcoholism and drug addiction. These disorders likely involve problems with thepart of the brain associated with behaviors such as eating and sex. This part of the brain