“Oh, would you look at that,” Della exclaimed, her face brightening with a huge appreciative smile, “Isn’t it just beautiful?!”
I looked at the blank wall in the hallway where she was pointing. “What do you see, Della?” I asked. I stopped pushing her wheel chair and tried to follow her finger, my eyes straining to see what her vision had revealed to her.
“See, over there in that lovely green meadow by the creek,” she persisted, “the cow and her calf–isn’t it a wonderful sight?!”
I looked from the unrevealing wall to her raptured face. What she saw brought her so much joy and delight that it was contagious. I felt a smile spread over my own face. “Yes it is, Della,” I answered, “thanks for pointing it out to me. Now let’s get you down to the dining room for lunch.”
On another routine day at my job at a local care center, I came upon another resident who was clapping out a rhythm to music that I was not privileged to hear. She laughed from time to time, but never stopped her steady accompaniment, her attention focused on a spot just at knee level in front of her.
“Hi, Minnie, what’s going on?” I dared to ask.
“Sh-sh-sh,” she hushed me, “Now, don’t you make him stop—-just watch that little fella dance! Isn’t he something!” She was enjoying herself so much that, for a moment, I was caught up in the fun. But, I guess I wasn’t looking at the right spot, or maybe I still looked a little puzzled, because she stopped clapping and looked at me, concern replacing the giddy enjoyment in her eyes. “Don’t you see him–right there?” she was pointing at the definitive spot in front of her. I looked down where she was pointing. I reluctantly shook my head, “Oh, I wish I did, Minnie; I wish I did.”
Statistically speaking, most of us will live out our lives without dementia. We will be privileged to be able to contribute to our community as volunteers, take up golf, and read all of those books we’ve been wanting to read “when we have more time”. However, some are not as fortunate, and will spend the last years of their lives seeking their way through a strange world. Some will find a happy place of laughter and delightful visions, but some fight their way through shadows of fear, childhood anxieties, unresolved conflicts and unfinished business.
“I’ve got to get out there and plow those fields—I’ve got to get out of here and milk those cows.” There was frantic concern etched in every line of my father-in-law’s face, as he tried to get out of his wheelchair.
“It’s okay, Dad, you sold the farm several years ago. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.” I try to reassure him with the truth, but I know he doesn’t quite believe me.
Another afternoon the conversation takes another turn. “I don’t know who left that gate open, but I’ve got to find those horses and get them back to the corral before Dad finds out or I’m in big trouble.” I take his hand in mine and say gently, “Look at me, Dad; listen to me– that all happened when you were a kid. It’s okay now.
Another evening I am notified that Dad won’t go down to dinner. I find him down by his room in the hallway and ask him, “What are you doing here and why aren’t you going down to the dining room”? He shakes his head, frustrated that I don’t know the obvious. “I don’t have tickets for the train and I don’t seem to have any money to buy more and they won’t let me on the train without tickets.” Again, it’s important to bridge this gulf between reality and his world. “But, Dad, first, there is no train that comes by here. Second, you live in this wonderful place where your meals are provided and you do not need a ticket. Your meal is waiting at your table; let’s head down to eat with the others”
Why are we so surprised when our parents get old. We know it is the natural process of life, but we are somehow caught off guard. Some of our parents are still bowling, playing golf, fishing and hunting into their nineties, and we don’t think of them as old at all. Could it be that chronological age is irrelevant as a factor in aging? As with all stages of our lives, change comes and it is never quite what we expect. For some, the years come gently, full of grace and peace, and, yes, joy, but for others aging is very hard work.
