Alexis Cibrano

When I sat down to do my Player Spotlight I started feeling overwhelmed by the task.  How could I possibly put my motivation to the cause into words without writing a novel?  How could I express the emotions deep inside my stomach and heart without sounding dramatic?  Lastly, how can I answer the question “who are you playing to honor?”  without making my own enormous Memory Wall?

I am playing to honor 5.4 million Americans.  I am playing to honor 250,000 New Yorkers. I am playing to honor their caregivers, family members, my fellow staff members and coworkers in the health care industry who are learning how to provide the best possible care for the dementia affected.  I am playing for my clients.  Lastly, and importantly, I am playing to end the silenced pain of those who have not yet sought help.

I am currently a long-term care social worker in a nursing home in NYC; it is with great pride and satisfaction that I am assigned to the dementia care unit in our facility.  Each and every day I see the moments of pain, struggle, anxiety, fear, laughter, joy, and innocence this disease brings to individuals and families alike. I see the fear of the unknown, the coming changes, and the angst and guilt that often comes with placing your loved one in a nursing home.  I see the confusion that comes with “trying to do the right thing.”  I see moments of lucidity, smiles, laughter, and innocence.  I see strength.  I see resilience, adapting, and coping.  I see effort; trying to hold onto who you are, who you know, what you know.  I see need for support, education, interaction, a listening ear, and guidance.  I see the frustration in someone’s eyes when they can’t verbally express themselves anymore, when words no longer have meaning; I see the hurt in a family member when their loved one no longer recognizes them.  I see the anxiety families go through when trying to navigate end-stage health care.  I see the anger when someone is no longer able to do for herself.  I see the pain of feeling stigmatized and infantilized. I see the fear of showering, feeding, and receiving care when the intentions of others are indiscernible.  I see the loneliness, loss of self and others, financial strain; being robbed of your life, the guilt of being a “burden” on your family.  I see the disease slowly start to take over, I see tears of defeat; I see the inability to stop it, the helplessness, succumbing to the inevitable.  I see universality; I see the ripples reaching far and wide.  I see so much taken, and yet so much given.

I see no better time to act, to learn, to teach. 

I feel a sense of community, a commitment to spreading that sentiment to all. 

That’s why I choose this cause, that’s why I choose the Alzheimer’s Association.