When the Fight Becomes Personal
Growing up, my dad was the guy everyone called when something broke. With a master’s in mechanical engineering and a mind that never stopped solving, he was the heartbeat of our family. But over time, we watched that mind slowly dim. At first, it was small things — strange behavior, lost words. But eventually, the change was unmistakable.
We didn’t know it at the time, but it was the beginning of a 15-year battle with Frontotemporal Degeneration (FTD) — a rare, cruel disease that would take my father’s identity long before it took his life. This June, during Brain Awareness Month, I’m sharing our story in hopes that more people will understand what FTD is — and why we need to fight it together.
I’m also proud to share that Itential is helping support this cause through the ItentialGives program, which is matching employee donations throughout the month. As someone who works here and lives with the real fear of FTD in my own genetic future, I’m deeply grateful to be part of a company that takes giving seriously.
Understanding FTD
FTD is a degenerative brain disease that primarily affects the frontal and temporal lobes — controlling personality, behavior, speech, and movement. Unlike Alzheimer’s, memory often stays intact until the late stages. Instead, people undergo a profound change in who they are.
It typically appears between ages 45 and 64 — robbing people of their most vibrant years. For my father, the symptoms started in his early 40s. It took seven years of misdiagnoses — depression, early-onset Alzheimer’s — before we got a name: Frontotemporal Degeneration.
Our story isn’t just personal — it’s genetic. My dad’s FTD was caused by a mutation in the C9orf72 gene. Three of his brothers also passed from FTD or ALS. That legacy now hangs over my siblings and me like a shadow. We don’t know yet if we carry the gene, but we live with the possibility every day.
Oddly, it gives me courage. When you live with your worst fear, a lot of other things don’t seem so scary.
The Ride of a Lifetime
In 2024, I did something a little crazy: I decided to bike 3,600 miles across the U.S. to raise awareness for FTD. I had zero cycling experience.
The journey began in Astoria, Oregon, with my tire dipped in the Pacific Ocean. Three days in, climbing the Rockies, I wondered what I was thinking. “I should’ve done a bake sale,” I joked to myself.
Then I crashed — hard. A dog ran into the road in Idaho. I broke my wrist. After a long ride and an even longer hospital visit, I rested for a week, then got back on the bike. Braced and bruised, I pushed through five more states.
Until Georgia.
Just 50 miles from Atlanta, I was hit again — this time by a truck. Broken collarbone. Dreams shattered.
But then, something amazing happened.
I shared my story online. And a global community responded.
People from across the country rallied to finish the ride for me — covering the last 300 miles to Charleston, South Carolina. I didn’t just complete the ride. I completed it surrounded by people who proved the most important lesson of all:
FTD is isolating. But the fight doesn’t have to be.
You can actually watch the story of my journey in this ABC News Person of the Week Spotlight.
Turning Pain Into Purpose
Since then, I’ve committed myself to advocacy. This September, I’m working to establish FTD Awareness Week in Georgia. I’ll be speaking on the Compassion in Caregiving podcast to share what it’s like growing up with a parent who has FTD. I’ll also speak at the Georgia Dementia Symposium and to nursing students at Saint Anselm College, helping the next generation of caregivers recognize and diagnose FTD faster.
Behind the scenes, I’m launching a new social media campaign to bring global awareness — and solidarity — to those impacted on a global scale. Stay tuned for more on that one.
A Call to Action
If FTD has touched your life — or if you simply believe that no one should suffer silently — I urge you to act:
📘 Learn more through the Association for Frontotemporal Degeneration (AFTD).
💰 Donate to support research, care, and advocacy. You can use this link.
📣 Speak out. Share your story. You never know who might need to hear it.
This fight is bigger than one person or one family. But together, we can ride further than any of us imagined.
Thank you for being part of this journey with me.
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