REAGAN'S LONG GOODBYE

By Laurence I. Barrett

He is America's most famous Alzheimer's victim, and on a good day he can still get off a satisfying one-liner. Reminded last month that his granddaughter Ashley, 13, had once said she would love him "even if Grandpa didn't know me," Ronald Reagan shot back, "What do they mean? I know who Ashley is." On a bad day, however, a former high White House official can stop by for a brief visit and leave convinced that his old boss could not quite place him.

Good days and bad days--the bland phrase often used to describe the terrible toll of Alzheimer's--connotes balance. In fact, for Reagan, as for all other victims of this degenerative brain disorder, the good days gradually diminish and the bad just get worse. And as with other victims, it's not easy to pinpoint the onset of Reagan's disease. Because he occasionally fumbled details in the 1980s, some speculated that the symptoms started to appear while he was still President. But he had been prone to odd gaffes for decades.

Michael Reagan, Ashley's father, says the first unmistakable warning signs appeared in 1992. The old Communicator in Chief began struggling as he prepared speeches. Soon his delivery faltered as well. A series of tests given over two years led to a diagnosis in 1994. Aware that the news would soon be published, the Reagans--Nancy and Ronald--announced his condition in November 1994.

"You reach a level, stay there for a while, then drop to a lower level," Michael said last week of his father's mental state. "My dad has been pretty much on the same level for a number of months now." Physically, the former President, 86, remains active. He spends a few hours in his office most weekdays and sees occasional visitors. Accompanied by Secret Service agents and his nurse, Reagan strolls in Rancho Park or along the Santa Monica, California, beach. Last summer he still used his backyard pool.

Compared with what it was two years ago, Reagan's world has shrunk considerably. His beloved ranch near Santa Barbara is off-limits and up for sale; his vigorous regimen of old would be too risky today. Phone conversation is increasingly difficult. When he watches television, his comprehension swims in and out of focus. It is, as Nancy has aptly called this final chapter in Reagan's long career, "the long goodbye."

--By Laurence I. Barrett