Dementia: A Focus on the Good

Today was a good day. I had the privilege of spending 3 hours with my grandparents at their assisted living home in Southern California, after not seeing them since September of 2010.

I was happy to find their health and cognition was better than I expected. (I always imagine the worst as I live at a distance and phone calls are difficult due to hearing.) Although my grandmother (who has dementia) could not remember some things we brought up (her former job, my husband’s grandmother), she did remember me and told me how happy she was to see me. She even told me she loved me as she patted my arm. It was about 2.5 hours into my visit at that point, and came as a complete, but wonderful surprise.

This is what fascinates me about dementia and Alzheimer’s. I recently read a book about Oscar, the cat that seems able to predict death in a dementia ward of a skilled nursing facility. The geriatrician who wrote the book interviews families, and all the families commented on the selectivity of their loved ones’ memories. For many, feelings seem to be immune to the memory barrier of dementia. One particular family spoke of how when their mother and aunt ended up with dementia and were in the nursing home at the same time, they decided to place them in the same room because they’d always been close and lived together in the past. Although the sisters could not recall their own names, or each other's, somehow the feelings they’d had toward each other remained. Their rapport and connection was apparent even during the throws of dementia.

I often waiver between regrets, wishing I done more with my grandma while she was cognizant, wishing I’d listened more closely, recorded more stories, never been a rude and rotten teenager. I must live with all these regrets, but somehow today it felt that her dementia has bought me the forgiveness I was never able to allow myself. She can’t remember the bad; she just remembers the good. It’s a lesson to me. There are so many things I would be wiser to let go of.

I am grateful for what I have learned in how to deal with dementia. During my visit today, I didn’t correct my grandmother. When she said, “I don’t know”, I said, “That’s okay” or “It’s not important.” When she clapped her hands or drummed her open palm on the table, I made eye contact and smiled. I believe what I have learned of dealing with dementia allowed this visit to be one of the best visits I’ve had with my grandmother since dementia took hold.

Ordinary Events Make Memories Too

I recently found and washed an old black and white comforter my grandmother bought me back when I was in school. Although the black portion of the blanket has now faded to gray from too many washes and it still contains a medium cobalt blue stain from the time I spilled nail polish on the bed, I refuse to get rid of it.

The blanket now represents my memory of an event that will never take place again. My grandmother and I had shopped together to select and purchase the blanket; an outing I no longer even see as a remote possibility. Of all the photos, perfumes and memorable items I’ve collected in efforts to salvage my memories of my grandmother before she is gone, this is the only item I have that represents an activity we shared together.

We seldom value the errands we share with our loved ones. Things as trivial as buying a blanket at the mall or shopping for groceries are no doubt less memorable than a holiday celebration or a family dinner. Yet sometimes such trivialities are all that we have left of our time together. We should cherish any time we share with those special people in our lives, however we spend it – it may be all the time we get.

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