Ballzheimer’s
The miracle of pickleball and Alzheimer’s
First of all, let me state that I am not a doctor or medical professional in any capacity but last week I witnessed a miracle near the foothills of Blue Mountain in Missoula, Montana.
Arriving in Missoula for a three-day visit late last summer with friends, I fell in love with “The Garden City’s” historic architecture, rivers, and lush landscape surrounded by gentle mountains. Neighbors waved as the car passed on its ascent toward my friend’s home.
However, once we arrived at their hillside split-level, the lovefest was cut short.
My best friend, Cynthia, 68, was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s four years ago, and the underlying tension in her house nearly infected the entire trip. Her husband, Eric, would raise his voice when she asked how old their son was for the tenth time, and piles of dusty clutter littered the countertops, stairways, and bookshelves. She was constantly afraid of “getting in trouble,” telling me multiple times a day Eric would get mad if she lost one more thing, forgot to put the laundry in the dryer, or asked for money. In fact, Cynthia was convinced she was an economic prisoner of some sort and would repetitively go through her grievances regarding bank accounts, misappropriated Social Security checks, and the fact that her Nordstrom card had been confiscated.
“I just wish I could have one hour where my mind is clear,” she confessed, tears filling her faded blue eyes.
Well, on day two of my visit, that is exactly what happened.
Cynthia and Eric had recently taken up pickleball with a senior's group at a nearby recreation center and invited me to come along and learn the game. And, although I exercised regularly and knew about pickleball’s unparalleled popularity, I can’t say I looked forward to it, preferring more solitary pursuits.
After a brief introduction to the other players and a tutorial from a retired physician, the competition began. While Eric definitely had skills at 74, shock upon shock, my girl Cynthia was a — freaking beast!
Bobbing and weaving, stretching and twisting, connecting with that little perforated ball like her life depended on it, all while staying out of the “kitchen” and never missing a volley. Ever.
When I wasn’t playing, I stood on the sidelines in open-mouthed awe as the woman I once swapped prom dates with, transformed before me, clad in knee straps shouting out the scores before each serve like a professional sportscaster.
As a writer, I knew there was a story here, so I did some research.
According to the Alzheimer’s Research and Prevention Foundation, regular physical exercise can reduce your risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease by up to 50 percent. What’s more, exercise can also slow further deterioration in those who have already started to develop cognitive problems.
An article in HealthPrep.com states: that with the fast pace of a pickleball game, participants have to focus on the present moment, which can be a helpful tactic in developing mindfulness techniques and avoiding ruminations about the past or worries about the future. The decision-making and planning skills controlled by the prefrontal cortex are also improved through exercise. As a low-impact activity that requires strategizing and quick thinking, pickleball strengthens the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex. This activity enables individuals with Alzheimer’s disease and dementia to exercise more regularly, and it challenges them to stimulate their minds in ways other routine activities may not.
Wow!
And it doesn’t end there. One of the things Cynthia enjoys most is the social aspect of the sport. Naturally outgoing, she laughed and joked with her teammates, remembering their names without a struggle and then regaling me with stories about their personal lives on the ride home.
On his website, David Perlmutter, M.D., confirms that social engagement can reduce the risk of dementia and boost overall brain health. Pickleball fosters a sense of camaraderie and teamwork. It’s an excellent venue for making new friends, having meaningful social interactions, and building a supportive community.
Was Cynthia cured? No. But for the rest of the afternoon, we connected in a way we hadn’t in years. It wasn’t until the sun went down that I could feel her regress. After praising her game for the umpteenth time, I made her promise to continue playing and she has. During our last conversation, she told me she is even considering training for the Montana Senior Olympics!
I slept well that night, knowing she had a goal because where there’s a goal, there is always…
hope.
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Dalia Bazilwich is an author, actress, and activist. Her novel You Won’t Regret It is out on submission.
