Student assembly address:
On my way back from dropping my youngest son off at Purdue this weekend, I was listening to National Public Radio, and they were doing a story on living with someone with Alzheimer’s disease. Most of you know that Alzheimer’s is a brain disease that affects memory, thinking and reasoning skills— and for women over sixty, there’s a one in six chance that your grandmother or great-grandmother might start showing some symptoms, so it’s pretty common. You may have someone in your family that has Alzheimer’s, and if you do, you know it’s hard on the family because when the disease becomes advanced, people don’t remember much about their past, and when they do remember, they often don’t have the timeline right—something that happened forty years ago in their mind might have happened yesterday, and even worse, they often forget their loved ones, or important details about their loved ones’ lives, of even their children themselves.
On my way back from dropping my youngest son off at Purdue this weekend, I was listening to National Public Radio, and they were doing a story on living with someone with Alzheimer’s disease. Most of you know that Alzheimer’s is a brain disease that affects memory, thinking and reasoning skills— and for women over sixty, there’s a one in six chance that your grandmother or great-grandmother might start showing some symptoms, so it’s pretty common. You may have someone in your family that has Alzheimer’s, and if you do, you know it’s hard on the family because when the disease becomes advanced, people don’t remember much about their past, and when they do remember, they often don’t have the timeline right—something that happened forty years ago in their mind might have happened yesterday, and even worse, they often forget their loved ones, or important details about their loved ones’ lives, of even their children themselves.
Since ‘who we are’ is
a function of our memories and experiences, people with Alzheimer’s
often change personalities, and that too, is very difficult for loved ones.
The NPR feature concerned a middle-aged couple caring for
their elderly mother. In her younger
years, this woman was so proper that she believed that saying the word “Dang”
or “Shoot” was swearing, but now, when
the daughter didn’t let her have a second bowl of
ice cream, she called her daughter a “supreme –itch.”
In fact, it was war all the time in the household, because the couple found
themselves always correcting their mother—“No, Mom, your husband’s
name was Frank, not Bill.” “No Mom, that’s
Jenny, your grand-daughter.” “No, Mom, you have never
been to France” and things like that, which
meant that the woman was being constantly reminded of her Alzheimer’s,
constantly frustrated by her declining memory, constantly angry. It was as if
they couldn’t even talk to her anymore without everyone getting
upset.
So they began to read research and talk with Alzheimer
experts about that precise question: How do we talk to her? Should we, for
example, correct her? Should we try and cue her to reality by placing reminders
about who the president is, what the date is, pictures of her children with
labels around her room, to keep her from losing her memory even faster?
And the fundamental insight they came away with is—no, don’t
try and correct. If you want to have a relationship with your mother with
advanced Alzheimer’s, you should instead enter her
world in conversation, on its own terms, where ever she takes the conversation.
They described this amusing back and forth as an example of
what they meant:
Mother, looking out the window: “The monkeys are back in
the trees.” (How might we respond? Those aren’t
monkeys, mom, those are squirrels.”)
Instead, the son in law says, “Are
they back already? They’re a little early this year—it’s
not their season yet.”
Mother: “No, they’re
back, I’m looking at them.”
Son in law, looking out the window: “I
wonder if they’d make good pets?”
Mother: “Oh heaven’s
no, you couldn’t bring monkeys into the house. They’re
not house-broken.”
Son: “Well, they’d
have to be trained…and wear pants.”
And they proceeded to have an extended conversation about
it, with the mother obviously pleased to be engaging in what felt to her
to be human dialogue with someone—a very basic human need.
Honestly, I was a bit moved by the whole NPR story—impressed
first of all by this couple who loved their mother so much as to keep her
in their home, but also that they looked for ways to lovingly engage her, even
while her mind was failing. The
willingness to bracket themselves and “enter into her world, on
its own terms” seems to me to be a genuine act
of selfless love.
But here’s the cool part. According to
this couple, when they started bracketing, letting her lead the conversation,
and engaging her on her terms, the warring ceased, she was happier, and they
were happier, as they felt good to be connecting with her again, however amusing
the conversation became.
We are blessed here in our daily interactions with each
other not to be dealing with Alzheimer’s patients. But all of us
have the human need to connect, and if we can develop this skill of
bracketing—of putting the other person first in the conversation—we can both
build them up, but in so doing--following the laws of spiritual physics which
says the more we give to others the happier we become—we can build ourselves up in the
process.
Try really paying attention to your younger sister or
brother, or your mom or dad, or your friend, without an agenda, on their terms
alone, totaling entering their world in the conversation. I think you’ll
be pretty amazed at how much power we have to make others feel good about who
they are.
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