Saying the Right Thing

Recently we learned a bit in class about what causes Dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease (AD) and also how to interact with these patients. Although we really just touched on the complexity of this disease, it was enough to make me realize that I had it all wrong, and I’m probably not the only one. AD seems to defy logic in the way that it takes the most recent events of life and virtually erases them, then replaces that space with false recollections or worse yet, simply nothing. Then to add to the mystery, old memories suddenly become crystal clear and confuse the sufferer as they try to deal with current reality. As if that wasn’t bad enough AD also affects the ability to think clearly, and changes the normal behavior of that person.

I’ve had the great disappointment to experience AD first-hand with my own mother. Looking through the common progression of symptoms, I relive the slow deterioration that I have watched my mother suffer throughout her years. I don’t think my siblings and I wanted to believe it was anything more than aging - her forgetfulness, her difficulty with words, her odd behaviors. We were quick to dismiss her limitations and simply do things for her, finish her sentence or shrug off her actions. But time told the truth as she became worse and worse and we couldn’t dismiss or ignore her symptoms anymore. As a family we didn’t know how to handle what was happening to her. What we wanted for her - to be safe, happy and content in her later years, was no longer something any or all of us could give her. It was with heavy hearts that we helped her choose her assisted living home so that she could get proper care.

Our frequent visits and phone calls are now quickly forgotten each day, like a computer memory wiped clean at the end of each shift. We mistakenly reminded her, insisting on disagreeing with her as she tells us that no one came or called. It was too hard to agree with her, as if we were allowing her to believe we didn’t care anymore. We wanted, needed to her to remember that we were there, that we cared. But each day is now for her, an empty, lonely day of old memories and confusion. I’ve lost count of how many times she has asked me to take her back home. I’m so sorry now that I told her that she was home already. That place is not home in her memory, only a strange place where she awakens every morning to staff that reintroduce themselves to her daily. There is a link in my title that tells you what you should say and do in situations like this.

There are no words to explain the sadness I feel when I call her and her silence tells me that she really doesn’t know who I am anymore. I talk to the shell of my mother, but I have said goodbye to her spirit a long time ago. Now we both just wait for God to take her home so that she can be happy again...