Seth Rogen has spent his movie career making young people laugh. Now he wants to make them think—specifically, about what they can do today to reduce their risk of developing Alzheimer's disease years from now.
It might seem like an unusually serious focus for the comedian, but Alzheimer's is very personal for Seth: The disease runs in his wife Lauren Miller Rogen's family. Her grandparents both died from the condition in the 1990s, and her late mother, Adele Miller, developed young-onset Alzheimer's when she was 55.
Lauren and Seth had been dating for only a few months when Lauren's parents flew to Los Angeles from their home in central Florida to celebrate Lauren's 24th birthday in 2006. It was during that weekend that Lauren saw changes in her mother's behavior that she had observed years before in her grandparents.
“I'd had inklings. At my college graduation a couple of years earlier, my mom told me the same story a few times, and I just had this sinking feeling,” Lauren says. “I didn't say anything at the time. I was hoping I was wrong.” Two weeks after she graduated, Lauren moved to Los Angeles to pursue her career as an actor and screenwriter. Several months later, when her parents came to visit for the first time, Lauren noticed more things. Her mother kept repeating herself and seemed vaguely confused. “After I dropped them off at the airport,” she says, “I went back to Seth's to hang out and just cried. It was the first time I'd really talked about it.”
Adele Miller was a “superhero mom,” her daughter says. “She taught first grade and still managed to be a full-time parent. She was always there for my activities and events. She was the class mom and drove me everywhere and had such a vibrant and active mind.” Adele retired from teaching after her diagnosis, and shortly after that, Lauren's father took early retirement so he could care for her.
“During each visit, Seth and I would notice that she had deteriorated further,” Lauren says. “Eventually my mom forgot everything—how to eat, walk, and dress herself. She didn't know what a chair was for or that the floor wasn't for sitting. She couldn't remember what a person or a dog was. She had a lot of trouble using the bathroom, which was heartbreaking for me but even more so for my dad. He was carrying the full load, all the cooking, cleaning, dressing, and caring for her. And I felt like I couldn't help since I was so far away.”
In 2012, Seth and Lauren moved her parents to a duplex near them in Los Angeles, with room for a round-the-clock caregiver. By that time, Adele had lost the ability to speak. “We couldn't have conversations, but there were sparks of recognition,” Lauren says. “I don't think she knew I was her daughter, but there were moments of love with eye contact. I struggled with sitting there silently holding her hand, so I started reading to her. She liked Danielle Steel novels when she was younger, so I started reading those to her, which was kind of funny when the books got a little sexy. But I was lucky to have my parents close by—and so much support from Seth.”
Over the course of her disease, Lauren's mother slowly disappeared. “She was both very much alive and physically here, but at the same time she lost every ability,” says Lauren. “In the end, she was a shell. Everything that made her an extraordinary person had been forgotten. That's the nature of the disease.” Adele died on February 1, 2020, at age 69.