WORLD ALZHEIMER’S MONTH
For years, Anne Miller’s daughters could explain away the small changes they noticed in their mom.
She had become more anxious and fearful, they thought, perhaps because of the stressful experiences she had been through. Gradually, however, the changes became harder to dismiss.
The woman who had once been strong, athletic and independent began unpacking and repacking cupboards, stopped driving and cooking, became frightened of shadows and doorways, and repeatedly asked the same questions.
Their experience with their mom, now 81 and living in the memory care wing at Rand Aid’s Ron Smith Care Centre, offers an honest glimpse into the long, often difficult road families can face when dementia enters their lives.
It is also a reminder that behind a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s is still the same person – with a lifetime of memories, interests, humour, preferences and feelings.
The woman behind the diagnosis
Anne grew up in a rural farming community on the west coast of Ireland, in a village overlooking the Wild Atlantic Ocean where Gaelic was spoken.
She only learnt English when she travelled to London as a young woman in search of employment.
Later, she worked in AngloGold Ashanti’s Cartology Department.
Her daughters describe her as a strong, kind and athletic woman who would ‘go to war’ for those she loved. She was a good listener, impeccably ladylike and, they add, someone it was best not to get on the wrong side of.
Anne was a fast runner in her youth. She played women’s soccer and rode horses but also enjoyed clothes, makeup and making her home look beautiful.
She could bake a memorable trifle or apple pie and took great care of her grandchildren, hiding vegetables in food and preparing cut-up fruit and smoothies for them after school.
It is this person her daughters want others to continue seeing.
The signs were subtle – until they weren’t
Anne’s daughters say they had an inkling that something was wrong, but the changes became increasingly difficult to ignore as everyday tasks and familiar routines began to slip.
She began unpacking and repacking things and rummaging through cupboards she had previously kept neat. She stopped driving, cooking, baking and attending exercise classes. Reading books and magazines became difficult, and she lost the attention span to watch a television programme or film with her family.
Even something as simple as making tea for two or more people became difficult.
Other changes were more distressing. She developed an intense need for connection and would struggle to let family members leave after a visit. She became increasingly fearful of things around her, including elevators, booms, doorways and shadows on the ground, which she sometimes believed were large holes.
Familiar outfits would be worn repeatedly, even if damaged.
She could become lost in shops and angry when she thought her family had abandoned her.
She also became increasingly anxious about safety, watching Sky News continuously and becoming convinced that family members would be harmed when travelling.
There were repeated phone calls and questions – sometimes just minutes after a conversation had ended.
Ursula began researching cognitive decline and wondered whether her mom might have vascular dementia. She hoped that exercise, good nutrition and appropriate blood pressure management might help slow the changes.
When safety becomes a concern
Things escalated after Anne’s husband, Norman, died from lung cancer in August 2023.
The couple had been married for more than 60 years and had lived in the same Bassonia home for about half that time. Suddenly, Anne was living alone.
Neighbours began contacting the family about her behaviour, saying she had become suspicious of their intentions. On other occasions, neighbours found her wandering and brought her home. Friends spotted her in shops with a basket full of items but no purse and alerted the family.
At home, she was losing her keys or putting the wrong keys into locks.
Anne was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in October 2024. The diagnosis was painful, say her daughters. She felt betrayed and humiliated by the testing. An intelligent woman, she felt the process had made her feel stupid. She rejected the diagnosis and continues to believe she is physically and mentally healthy.
The family realised that keeping Anne safe was becoming increasingly difficult and began visiting care homes around Johannesburg.
Daytime care was introduced at the beginning of 2025, initially for one day a week. Over time, this increased to seven days a week. Eventually, the decision was taken to move Anne to a residential care home.
They struggled with the guilt of feeling that they were abandoning her – particularly after promising their father they would care for her. “But it seemed like a never-ending black hole,” they said, describing how the more they gave, the more she needed.
The decision was difficult, with the family fearing that Anne would be ostracised, misunderstood, unloved or inadequately cared for.
The first care home was not a good fit. Anne returned home within two weeks, and Sheron subsequently moved in with her. “We tried a second care home near us, which we realised quickly was unsuitable,” says Ursula.
Eventually, they got what they desperately needed – peace of mind – when Anne became a resident of River Lodge 3, Rand Aid’s memory care wing, in August 2026.
Anne is stimulated, supported and well cared for, and her daughters say they can see the warmth and compassion she receives.
Lessons learnt
There is no simple roadmap for families dealing with dementia. But Anne’s daughters say several things have made a difference.
Learn about the disease: Ursula wishes she had known more earlier, believing that a better understanding might have helped delay her mom’s decline.
Reach out for support: The family joined support groups, researched care options and sought help from others. “Outside support without judgement has been paramount,” they say.
Try different approaches: There is no single right way to respond to someone living with dementia. Families have to adapt as the disease progresses.
Keep loved ones as independent as possible – safely: Safety measures and support should be introduced while allowing the person to retain as much independence as possible.
Remember that social connection matters: Being cared for at home by one excellent carer was not enough stimulation for Anne. Her daughters believe residential care became the right choice because it offered greater social interaction and activities.
Consider the timing: The family is grateful Anne moved while she could still communicate her likes and dislikes. They believe moving later, when she could no longer express her needs, might have been even more frightening.
There is still plenty of Anne in the story
Alzheimer’s has changed the way the family lives and communicates, but it has not taken away their relationship. Anne and her daughters still laugh together. She enjoys participating in activities and still loves to dance – particularly jigging to Irish music.
There are moments of unexpected humour, too. When Ursula kisses her goodbye, Anne sometimes asks why she spat on her cheek. They both burst out laughing.
The family is particularly grateful that they took Anne to her birthplace in the rural Gaeltacht region of Connemara in Ireland in August 2025, despite being advised against the trip, because they say it was a magical experience.
Her daughters now try to visit three or four times a week. Their aunt also helps, and they have made a point of getting to know the other residents at River Lodge 3 and their families.
When Anne and her daughters walk to the fountain and back, other residents and visitors sometimes stop to say hello and have a chat with her. Those simple interactions mean the world to their mom, say Ursula and Sheron.
Kindness matters most
One of the hardest parts has been seeing people speak to Anne as though she is not mentally present, without realising that she still has feelings like everyone else.
The experience has taught them to be gentler with themselves and with one another.
Their advice to other families is to reach out, learn as much as you can and communicate openly.
And, above all, don’t become despondent. “There’ll be many beautiful moments ahead,” they say.
