Processing Speed & Alzheimer’s: Repairing What Remains
Now that treatment with Leqembi has, at least for now, cleared amyloid plaques from my brain, I’ve noticed something important: I am still dealing with slow processing speed.
A recent experience made this very clear. I was helping my brother renew his driver’s license. He doesn’t use a computer, so I had previously set up his DMV account using my email address. When it came time to renew, California required that everything be completed online before scheduling an appointment.
I logged in, entered my email, and tried what I believed was the correct password. It didn’t work. I tried again. And again. After several failed attempts, I assumed something was wrong with the account and spent nearly two hours creating a workaround, setting up a new account with a different email address and overriding the original one.
Only after all of that did the mistake become obvious:
I had been entering the wrong password, the account password instead of my email password.
This wasn’t a memory problem. It was a processing speed problem. With faster processing, I likely would have caught the error quickly. Instead, my brain stayed stuck on the wrong track.
That experience led me to an important realization:
Removing plaques is not the same as restoring function.
So I began looking for ways to improve processing speed and turned to ChatGPT. The strategies I found closely matched what I’ve learned about rehabilitating mild cognitive impairment (MCI):
the brain can still adapt, relearn, and improve.
Where Did My Short-Term Memory Go?
I’ve reached a point where my Alzheimer’s has slowed down enough that I can start to see more clearly what it has left behind. One problem stands out above all the others: my short-term or working memory.
It shows up in the smallest, most frustrating ways.
Did I already brush my teeth? Why am I opening this drawer? Why did I walk into this room?
What did I just do? A thought to do something just flitted by, where did it go?
These moments aren’t occasional they happen throughout my day. And they force me to confront an uncomfortable truth: something in my brain has changed permanently.
So instead of asking “Why is this happening?”, I’ve started asking a better question:
“What can I do about it?”