Elder Communication - Partners in Conversation

Roy Dotrice & Cherry Jones in "Moon for the Misbegotten"

Comfortably early, I settled in to my seat close to the center stage. Broadway… it had been a long time, but there I was again about to happily applaud a beloved friend's triumph, relishing the idea of hugging the stuffing out of him later on. A family bustled in behind me leaving their coats, bags, packages, and father behind to guard them. "I haven't been here in so long!" he suddenly confided to no one else there but me. I turned politely and smiled, "Me, too!"

The older man seemed almost desperate to chat, but despite his obvious intelligence and knowledge, he wasn't quite holding up his end of the conversation. In response I automatically took an accustomed lead, bridging the gaps in his reasoning with my own, keeping the dance of words as best I could in natural motion between us as possible.

I'd spent the better part of my adult life caring for various family members who were coping with just such memory problems, even dementia. Sadly, those memories seemed to have followed me even on that one day off I'd managed to wrangle in a very long time. But I couldn't resent this fella for it. The more we talked, about theater and Eugene O'Neil, and the O'Neil play that we were about to see, the happier and more animated he became. I learned quite a bit, but it was my 'prof' who thanked me, exclaiming, "It's such a relief!"

I wondered at that, him being such an obviously well-off, handsome gent, blessed after all with a family that would still see to it he could attend a Broadway play.

I stopped wondering once his daughter returned. She was not happy that he had struck up a conversation with a stranger. Rather than allow herself to be introduced she apologized for her father's intrusion. He objected, but what before had been an easy dance with a willing partner became a fencing match as she constantly stopped and corrected him: "No Daddy, that wasn't how it was. No, you've forgotten. No, don't you remember? No, It's not like that. No, what are you trying to say?"

With every verbal parry, the man seemed reminded of a mind he no longer fully possessed and the father he no longer was. He melted back into his seat, silent and defeated. Noting his distress, but still too aware of her own hurt to recognize her own part in it, the woman then sweetly finished off her dad's last shred of dignity. Out came a condescending litany of necessary questions all caregivers learn that keeps everyone and everything manageable.

I turned 'round and sat captive in my seat until my own thoughts finally overcame the numbing silence. It had been easier lending this stranger my sense of sense then it had been with all the family and family friends I'd had to assist over the years. I'd never noticed before what a huge difference that little deference, or lack of it, could make.

You CAN remember the past into the present for someone suffering from memory loss. It IS possible to tether another's stalled train of thought to your own locomotive; substituting new track for old. Where a question might be a reminder of something wrong or a challenge about what has been forgotten, a statement can redirect attention to something shared or something new:

"Wasn't that a great performance yesterday?"

Would become this:

"That play of O'Neil's that we went to see on Broadway yesterday was really great. "Moon for the Misbegotten's" still a classic. I liked the way they...."

Living in the present moment is the goal of so many mindful meditative practices. Yet if your moment-before has been misplaced and you can't even imagine the moment-coming next, 'now' can be a pretty lonely and confusing place to be. So make every question you can into a declarative sentence and always try to speak in complete stories (with plenty of memory hooks sprinkled in to grab on to). When you've experienced the difference the gift of conversation can make in terms of quality of life for caregiver and cared-for alike, you will find that it is well worth the effort!