|
This doesn’t always happen, of course. But when a man suddenly asks his spouse of 58 years, “Who are you? Are we married?” that doesn’t mean that he’s forgotten her. It’s simply an indication that, in that moment, he’s not able to get to the details. She looks familiar, but he can’t quite come up with who she is. After all, if his brain right then has taken him back in time fifty years or so (which dementia often does), this woman probably bears little physical resemblance to the 20-year-old he’s thinking about. So instead of trying to explain, his wife should just respond, with a big smile, “I’m that gorgeous woman you married a long time ago! I’m Ruth!” Give his brain time to reset.
Maya Angelou famously said, “I may not remember who you are, I may not remember what you did, but I will always remember how you make me feel.” Your loved one may not always be able to access the details of you are – your name, your relationship, your role. These are just labels, words, facts – the kinds of things that a brain with dementia has trouble with. But even if they can’t find the details, they can always find their feelings. They can acknowledge that they like you, that they’re glad to see you, and that you’re somebody special. They are using their heart to recognize you…because their brain isn’t able to.
Make no mistake, that is recognition.
This next story illustrates how a person with dementia can create his own version of recognition:
Martin walks down the hall of the long-term care facility where he lives. He's holding the hand of a six-year-old boy wearing a baseball cap, who's telling Martin all about his trip to the ballpark to see a Dodgers game. Both Martin and the child are obviously enjoying the moment. Then a staff member walks by and says, "Well, who's your visitor?" Martin stops, his smile fades, and he gets a blank look.
He's trying to think how to answer the question.
Martin is in mid-stage Alzheimer's Disease. His memory for language has been ravaged by the disease. Nouns and names that used to come easily to him, words like "grandson" and "Jeremy," are buried somewhere in his brain, obscured by the fog of dementia. He knows that this boy is special to him - he always feels happy when he comes to visit - but he just can't think of his name.
Does this mean that Jeremy is any less Martin's grandson? Does it make Martin any less Jeremy's grandfather, simply because his condition prevents him from remembering his name?
| 
