BY NITA WILKINSON

Faith Editor

Scott Griswold lost his screwdriver. That probably doesn't sound like the beginning of an Alzheimer's story. It sounds more like the beginning of a story about a man having a really bad day with a home improvement project.

However, for Scott and his wife, Karen, that screwdriver became part of a much bigger conversation.

It was sometime before Scott was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease in the fall of 2018. He had been working on a fairly ordinary outdoor project, but things weren't going the way he thought they should. He became frustrated with the screwdriver. Then he lost it.

His blood pressure skyrocketed. And, Scott used some “very salty language for a pastor.”

Karen managed to get him into the house and told him they would talk about it soon. They did. When they talked, the screwdriver wasn't really the issue.

There had been other things, too. Scott had begun losing his place during sermons. There were times when communion didn't happen in the order it always had. Things that had once been second nature weren't always quite so automatic anymore.

A friend had told Karen something that stuck with her: The earlier you get to the doctor, the better. So Karen suggested it was time to see the doctor and to her surprise, Scott agreed. To Scott's surprise, the doctor he trusted suggested Alzheimer's.

His immediate reaction was disbelief. That led to testing, lots of testing. Eventually there was a diagnosis, followed by medications and the beginning of a journey neither of them had planned to take.

Looking back, Karen can remember the little things; a freezer door left open, a faucet running during the night. These were things that didn’t make sense, until they did.

Alzheimer's doesn't always arrive with a dramatic announcement. Sometimes it slips quietly into the ordinary places of life, for Scott and Karen, learning to live with it has meant learning to live intentionally.

“The key for us has been to be vulnerable, letting others in,” Karen said. “It's a hard journey, and I don't know if I could keep going if we didn't have a tribe of people supporting us.”

That word, tribe, may be one of the most important words in their story.

They have not tried to pretend everything is fine. They have not hidden the hard days or pulled away from people. Instead, they have let people in, and Scott has continued to let himself be seen, too.

Recently, he stood in front of a room at First Christian Church in Bellefontaine and gave a presentation about Alzheimer's disease. And he did it while living with Alzheimer's disease. There was no dramatic transformation when he walked to the front of the room. He simply did what he had come to do.

The night before, he and Karen had gone to a concert. So on Thursday, the day of his presentation, Karen made sure Scott rested for much of the day.

His presentation was sound. He answered questions easily. There were a few moments when he searched for a word, but they were just that, moments. They didn't define the presentation, and they certainly didn't define Scott.

Because Scott is still Scott. He still has his sense of humor. He still likes to be around people. And he has learned he likes to bake bread. Scott has turned baking bread into a way to raise money for Alzheimer's awareness. For The Longest Day fundraiser, he recently baked 65 loaves and accepted donations for each one.

There is something wonderfully Scott-like about that. If life gives you Alzheimer's, apparently you bake bread.

He also volunteers at Otterbein Green Hills on Mondays and meets with small groups there. One of the things he tells people is not to isolate themselves or withdraw. It's advice he doesn't simply give. He lives it.

Scott still drives, although mostly close to home and during the daytime. He has learned that routine helps him. His medications help, too. Routine helps, medication helps, community helps. Then there is his black Labradoodle, he helps too. Scott calls the dog a “companion and such a blessing to me.”

Karen's life has changed considerably as well. She is now the sole breadwinner in the family and pastors West Liberty United Methodist Church. When she took that position, the couple moved into the church parsonage, creating yet another change in a life that already contained plenty of them. Karen is quick to talk about how loving and supportive her church has been.

Their lives look different now. They have had to adjust. They have had to plan. They have had to learn when Scott needs to rest and when it is OK to keep going. They live one day at a time.

Karen is intentional about making sure Scott gets the rest he needs, even when life includes concerts one night and Alzheimer's presentations the next morning.

Their journey isn't about pretending Alzheimer's isn't there. It's about refusing to let Alzheimer's become the only thing that is there.

Karen describes their marriage this way:

“Scott is the force behind the boat. My attitude steers the boat.”

It is a simple sentence, but it carries a lot of weight. Scott is still moving forward. Karen is still steering. And around them is a tribe of people helping keep that boat afloat.

Time is moving forward, although perhaps more slowly than they once imagined, and Karen is grateful for every day. She is especially grateful that her friend encouraged her to get Scott to the doctor early.

“He is changing slowly,” she said, “but we were given so many more quality years because we went early.”

There is no tidy ending to Alzheimer’s. There is no inspirational bow that can be tied around it. But there can be good days. There can be laughter. There can be concerts and sermons and small groups and 65 loaves of bread. And there can be a tribe willing to get into the boat with you.

For Scott and Karen Griswold, that seems to be the lesson they have learned along the way: We don't always get to choose the waters we travel. But we don't have to travel them alone. ■