We are the grandchildren of Barbara Rolan Harris. Born December 28, 1932 our grandmother began spreading love almost immediately. That was what she knew how to do best, spread love. That is why in the end we called her our "Muv", a name combining mother and love. Her smile was contagious and her ability to tell a story of her past rivaled all others. That was until Spring of 2005. Our Grandaddy was ailing from his diagnosed lymphoma and Muv was forgetting things, becoming irritable, something completely uncharacteristic. Her son and daughter tried to come up with excuses, "she's stressed about Daddy" or "She's just getting older." When they finally took her to see a neurologist she was diagnosed with the first stages of Alzheimer's disease. A disease we had all seen eat away at our Great Aunt Susie. Her mind only lasted several years before she passed, but what did this mean for Muv?
Things got hard. Four years into the diagnosis she became so disoriented we had to take her to an assisted living home where she thrived for about five years. That is when she fell. A fall for someone like Muv was disastrous. She barely knew her family let alone knew how to relearn to walk. The people in the rehab center she was taken to treated her like a child. The physical therapists became irritated and treated her like she wasn't trying. She was, in all the ways she knew how.
This was the most difficult part for us, her grandchildren. To watch a woman who raised us treated in such a way. But how could these people know what we knew? They did not know her before the Alzheimer's stole her mind. If only we had something to show the woman we knew and still loved immensely. We showed them pictures and roughly filmed home videos and that helped. But how great would it have been to have her telling her story to them instead of us telling it for her. How amazing would it have been to have a video of her singing her high school alma mater to watch after she yells at you because she doesn't know who you are?
This is where we came up with the idea for Save That Story. We want to give other families watching the slow decline of their loved one a solid and beautiful reminder of the person they love and how they were before. Because sometimes we all need a reminder of who they were not only for ourselves but for them so we never forget to treat them with the love and dignity they deserve.
-Kathryn Harris, the youngest grandchild.
Things got hard. Four years into the diagnosis she became so disoriented we had to take her to an assisted living home where she thrived for about five years. That is when she fell. A fall for someone like Muv was disastrous. She barely knew her family let alone knew how to relearn to walk. The people in the rehab center she was taken to treated her like a child. The physical therapists became irritated and treated her like she wasn't trying. She was, in all the ways she knew how.
This was the most difficult part for us, her grandchildren. To watch a woman who raised us treated in such a way. But how could these people know what we knew? They did not know her before the Alzheimer's stole her mind. If only we had something to show the woman we knew and still loved immensely. We showed them pictures and roughly filmed home videos and that helped. But how great would it have been to have her telling her story to them instead of us telling it for her. How amazing would it have been to have a video of her singing her high school alma mater to watch after she yells at you because she doesn't know who you are?
This is where we came up with the idea for Save That Story. We want to give other families watching the slow decline of their loved one a solid and beautiful reminder of the person they love and how they were before. Because sometimes we all need a reminder of who they were not only for ourselves but for them so we never forget to treat them with the love and dignity they deserve.
-Kathryn Harris, the youngest grandchild.