
Glory and heart.
In Spanish, these words translate to gloria and corazon; I carry these values in everything I do. These also happen to be the first names of my two grandmothers, both of whom I can’t confidently say remember who I am anymore due to dementia.
And I wonder if I remember them correctly, too.
In 2021, the World Health Organization estimated that there were around 57 million people worldwide with dementia. According to the Mayo Clinic, the illness encompasses an amalgam of symptoms “affecting memory, thinking, and social abilities.” Among these manifestations are memory loss, agitation, and hallucination.
These are symptoms my family has struggled through with Nanay Gloria and Mama Corazon.
With Nanay, may her soul rest in peace, I cherish our family cinema dates and the P20 bills she always snuck past my parents. And when I think of Mama, who we’re lucky is currently in a retirement home abroad, I am reminded of the Andre Rieu concert DVDs we cousins couldn’t escape watching with her, yet ended up loving. Dementia gradually sees these visual memories fade away, down to the trivial yet still meaningful: Nanay used to forget daily what year I was in school whenever I came home, and Mama still forgets whose child I am among her five daughters.
The worst forms of guilt come from irreversible and uncontrollable circumstances; that’s exactly what eats up our family’s conscience whenever we recall what my grandmothers experienced. From expensive hospital bills to nightly outbursts, our family endured each time a grandmother moved in at home for more hands-on care.
And in both circumstances, we gave it our all, even at the cost of our emotional, mental, and financial well-being.
A local study on dementia reported that the disease’s crude incidence rate in 2021 was 16 out of every 1,000 Filipinos. Even with such an alarming statistic, there is little to no government assistance provided particularly for these individuals.
Republic Act No. 9994, or the Expanded Senior Citizens Act of 2003, stipulates that all Filipino senior citizens are granted 20-percent discounts and tax exemptions for consumables, transportation, and certain medical supplies and expenses. However, it does not cover overlooked expenses such as stipends and palliative services. Worst of all, it overlooks disabilities, visible and invisible.
Even with Nanay in eternal rest and Mama in the best facility we can afford, the family stories of dementia simply don’t end, especially the anxieties and stigma surrounding it. According to the Alzheimer’s Disease International (ADI), only 50 to 60 percent of dementia cases are actually caused by Alzheimer’s disease. Furthermore, research associations like the ADI have long been combating the stigma, from avoiding direct interactions to perceptions of having no quality of life.
Yet still, every day I worry that I’ll inherit dementia eventually. It pains me to imagine putting my family through such dark times—to not recall the names and faces of those dearest to me, to not be in control of my emotions, and worst of all, to be viewed as a burden by my loved ones.
Surprisingly, it’s the last fear that grounds me the most. Every time I spiral into these anxieties, I look back on the challenges our family faced. Each annoyance and inconvenience was never about my grandmothers, it was always about systemic misfortune. The past embarrassments now feel silly, intense as the uncontrollable defecations and public lashouts were. These were frustrations over a system that failed to care for two of the most important women in my life.
We made do with what we had, but my demented grandmothers were never burdens in our lives. In fact, their circumstances were all the more reason for me to bring honor to their names. Even as Nanay lived up to over 80 years and Mama turned 85 this June, we lost so many of their years to a disease that the Philippine government couldn’t even bat an eye for. This continued neglect from our already notorious healthcare system is making an enemy out of everyone. When will they start treating conditions like dementia as primaries?
So, while I’m continuously bargaining over how much guilt I can’t bear, grief I shouldn’t anticipate, and frustration I can’t blame on anyone else but the government’s failure, I have emotional crutches to rely on: every time I reintroduce myself to my Mama is a chance to redeem the years we lost to hers and Nanay’s dementia. She’ll forget who just kissed her on the cheek, but she’ll know whoever did, gave it with gloria and corazon—I hope.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s June 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJune2025.