She Thought Her Mom Was Just Misunderstanding Her—But It Was the Start of a Devastating Illness

A mother who had spent her life excelling as a high-powered attorney—sharp-minded, successful, and always in control—began struggling with everyday tasks. At first, it was small things: trouble ordering an Uber, forgetting familiar names, getting confused during errands. Her intelligence, however, masked the deeper issue, and by the time her loved ones recognized something was truly wrong, the disease had already begun to take hold.

What first appeared to be simple miscommunications between a mother and daughter soon spiraled into recurring conflict. The daughter thought it was just stress. But what started as frustration became something far more serious—a heartbreaking signal that her mom was battling the earliest stages of a neurological disorder.

From Closeness to Confusion
When Caty Stanko returned home after graduating college in 2021, she expected the comforting familiarity of the mother-daughter relationship that had always been her anchor. Instead, she found a growing divide between them.

Caty and her mom had always been deeply connected. They shared their sense of humor, their looks, and even their expressions. But now, even basic conversations became difficult. Her mother didn’t argue—she just seemed lost. Like she couldn’t follow what was being said.

It reminded Caty of being a teenager again, bickering for no reason, but this time something felt off. She assumed it was stress or the strain of adjusting to adulthood. But the arguments didn’t stop. They grew more frequent, more confusing.

Her mom had built a career in law, her brilliance and decisiveness always her defining strengths. In the beginning, those same strengths helped her mask what was happening. But slowly, her sharpness began to fade. She started struggling with names of family members, couldn’t hail a ride on her phone, and found daily routines increasingly hard to manage.

Though Caty noticed it first, eventually the rest of the family began to see it too. Something wasn’t right.

In October 2021, Caty turned to the internet for answers. She searched terms like “aphasia” and “early dementia.” What she read matched exactly what her mom was going through. Her stomach dropped.

Months later, doctors confirmed her worst fears. In May 2022, her mom was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia (FTD)—specifically, primary progressive aphasia, a form of the disease that affects language and comprehension.

Understanding Frontotemporal Dementia (FTD)
FTD is a rare neurological condition that causes the frontal and temporal lobes of the brain to shrink. These regions control personality, behavior, and language. Unlike Alzheimer’s, FTD often strikes younger adults—typically between 40 and 65—and is commonly mistaken for depression or psychiatric illness.

FTD symptoms fall into two general categories: behavioral and language-related.

Behavioral signs can include:

Inappropriate social behavior
Emotional detachment
Poor judgment
Apathy or loss of motivation
Repetitive actions
Declining hygiene
Sudden cravings, especially for sweets or non-food objects
Language-related symptoms, like those Caty’s mom experienced, may include:

Trouble understanding speech or writing
Difficulty naming things
Using vague phrases like “that thing”
Speaking in fragmented or robotic sentences
Losing grasp of basic vocabulary
Though every case progresses differently, most people live around seven years after diagnosis. For Caty’s mom, the disease moved alarmingly fast.

A Life Rewritten by Loss
Having a name for her mother’s condition didn’t bring Caty peace. Instead, it marked the start of a painful new reality. At just 23, she was trying to begin adulthood while slowly losing the person who had always guided her.

The emotional toll was crushing. Her mom was not only her rock—she was her sounding board, her safe place. And now, she was becoming unreachable.

A doctor offered her advice that stuck:
“Live your life. Do everything you dreamed of doing—do it for her.”

It didn’t feel doable at the time. Grief consumed her. She pulled away from friends and sank under the weight of it all. A few weeks after the diagnosis, Caty left Pennsylvania and moved to New York, trying to start over.

Looking back, she realized she had been barely functioning. She started drinking more, struggling to process her emotions, while the rest of her family kept things quiet. For Caty, being open helped—telling people her mom was sick made her feel less alone.

The grief came in waves. She would mourn the future milestones her mom would miss: no wedding dress advice, no parenting talks, no long chats about life. The future felt stolen.

Finding Strength Through Movement
In the midst of emotional chaos, Caty found something unexpected: running.

She and her brother, Drew, decided to channel their grief into purpose. They signed up to run the New York City Marathon, dedicating the journey to their mother and raising funds for Alzheimer’s research.

Though Caty had never run long distances before, she trained rigorously—three runs a week, strength training, total commitment. The structure gave her something to hold onto. Something she could control.

Interestingly, her mom also started walking long distances—up to 40 miles a week. Doctors had said exercise might slow the disease’s progression, so the family encouraged it. It became a quiet, powerful connection between them.

The training was cathartic. Caty often cried mid-run, calling her dad afterward to process the emotion. Running became her outlet—and her fuel.

In November 2023, she and Drew completed the marathon, side by side. They raised over $12,000 for the Alzheimer’s Association. Drew, a former college athlete, could’ve finished much faster—but stayed with his sister the entire way. Their family’s bond was stronger than ever.

From One Race to a Lifelong Mission
The NYC Marathon was just the beginning. Inspired by the journey, the siblings set a bigger goal: to complete all six Abbott World Marathon Majors in honor of their mom. Each race would be a tribute—to her strength, her spirit, and everything she’d passed on to them.

Caty reflected on the surrealness of it all:
“If my mom truly knew what I was doing, she’d be stunned. She never imagined me as a runner. But I know she’d be proud.”

Though her mom is now mostly nonverbal, Caty believes her legacy lives on in action—in movement, in discipline, in purpose.

Moving Forward While Carrying the Past
Knowing that frontotemporal dementia can sometimes be inherited, Caty has made changes in her own life. She watches her health more closely: reducing sugar, exercising regularly, taking supplements, and eating with care. Every choice feels like a promise—to her mom, and to herself.

Her mother can no longer speak, but the lessons she once taught remain loud and clear. Caty carries them in every mile, every step, every moment of forward motion.

Running has become more than exercise—it’s a ritual. A way to honor the bond that shaped her. A way to keep her mother close, even as the disease continues to take pieces of her away.

Because some love doesn’t need words to endure. It just needs to keep moving.