Thursday, February 16, 2012

Alzheimer's

What a word and what emotions we have attached to it. Dementia is another one. A process that is difficult to understand and yet when presented to us we run in fear and in horror. When we are faced with someone we know and love being diagnosed with these, there can be a sense of relief and a sense of despair. The relief comes from knowing why our loved one has been unable to be there in ways that we expect them to. Our despair is knowing that this is not temporary and that the prognosis is not good. This can also be said about Cancer but we can still communicate with someone who is terminally ill with Cancer. This becomes less possible with Dementia.

Having a conversation today about just this subject my sister said that someone with Alzheimer's may not remember where they bought the shoes they are wearing, what city they were in, the cost, the person who went with them, or whether or not the sales person was male or female. There will however be a feeling that they have about those shoes. Do they feel good in those shoes, do they like the colour, do they have a positive association with those shoes. That feeling could come from many different places and probably part of it is how they felt with the people around them.

I immediately thought what an amazing gift that this illness can give us to stop a moment and look at the person in front of us and actually just be with them for a moment. Yes, we are lucky that we can remember where we live, what time we need to get to the coffee shop. Where our bank is. Which way the switch gets turned on the stove to turn it off or on. And how hard it is for us to see anyone, especially someone we love not remember those things or to try so hard to remember those things that they become distressed. Decision making becomes difficult when you don't have all the information and with Dementia, you don't no matter how hard you try. But all of those abilities may have robbed many of us from an ability that it appears Dementia does not take away and that is to feel the energy flow from one person to another. To feel the presence of someone caring about you and being with you in this moment. That moment may never be described by the person with Dementia, but the imprint of how they felt seems to remain.

One of my grandparents who suffered from Dementia always called my daughter - her great granddaughter - the nice little girl in the yellow dress. She did not know her name, she did not know that she was her great granddaughter. She knew how she felt whenever she saw her and she associated it with the yellow dress she wore once. What was inside her head I will never know. The functioning of her brain is in my mind for the scientists to try and figure out. How can I use what I have learned to not only help myself, others and those who suffer from Dementia. I will pass this message along. If you find yourself answering the same question four times and getting impatient, stop, breathe and recognize that how YOU feel is going to impact how the person you are with feels. Know that the only impact you have on this persons life, because you cannot give them their mind and their memory back is how they feel about what they are doing right now. It is in fact about being present, but not present in your mind, present in your energy. Feeling a connection as opposed to making one. Making a connection is all about using words to connect to someone. Feeling a connection is about feeling the energy from one person to the other.

This is my lesson for today. Thank you.

1 comment:

Medb Damhan said...

Well said!

My Mother was diagnosed with multi-infarc dementia in 2005. Really, had I been more aware I should have seen the warning signs back when she started telling me that she was having a problem where she'd walk out of the bathroom talking with my Father (who passed in 1997) only to be shocked and angry when she realized he wasn't there. What did tip us off was when she started having problems with her medications (some days forgetting to take them, others taking them two and three times).

Her passing in 2010 is still too new, fresh, unresolved for me to say much about the time in between her diagnosis and her death ... while we watched her slip away from us ever so quietly each day that passed.

But I do have to say thank you for the insight ... and that, for me, it was never frustration when after 30 minutes and we'd start the rounds of questions all over again. I'm not adept socially, so the very best I could do normally is to sit quietly and just be with her. Let her feel my presence and let her cling when she needed to.