Tag: alzheimers

• Flickering Ember

  

  There has been a time gap since I last wrote. Sometimes I get busy with the diversity of projects I am connected to that extend beyond my work with Canadian Religious Stewardship. And sometimes I am simply not inspired.

  Here I am today, a spring fresh morning in Saskatoon. I walked with music this morning, and came upon a long term favourite song of mine: The Mystery of Your Gift sung by Josh Groban. I listened to it over and over and came to the conclusion: this song speaks deeply to me of dementia.

  Consider these lyrics:

  “A single note passes out of the ashes
  A flickering ember begins
  It’s the courage to turn when the pages have burned
  And your story now seems at an end
  Seasons stay and seasons go
  Sending your memories adrift
  It’s the beautiful longing, embrace the unknown
  That’s the mystery of your gift.”

  On Friday when I had some free time before heading home, I went to find two of my dementia friends to see if they wanted to get outside as it was a stunning spring day. (Want to gift a senior’s home? Volunteer to sit with people outside or take them on a walk around the block). My friends said yes and off we went. What is great about dementia is there is no pondering of what is next or seeking to find past tasks, overall depending on the type there is often an easy focus on the present.

  So off we went. Me stopping to look at the budding trees and them following, me teasing ( with these two they have the cognitive power for that) about a variety of things I notice along the way. Like should we borrow that kid’s skateboard for a whirl? I love hearing them laugh or chastise me teasingly when my imagination gets carried away. They are having the courage to turn when the pages are burned, they are embracing the unknown as their memories are adrift. Some days they hurt as they cannot find their people, but more consistently there is joy. One wobbles in her heels with her heavy socks…the other walks simply taking in the spring air with a big smile on his face.

  We lost a third friend a few weeks back. A gentleman who often walked about with his arms crossed and a grouchy look on his face. A grouchy look that disguised a kind and joyful heart despite his frustration about not doing the “work” he thought he was still supposed to be doing. How I will miss the “moments” of joy from him as he tried to teach me German.

  The mystery of the gift – we will never fully comprehend what is going on in a mind with dementia. But let’s trust the mystery of it all and enable them to push us to be present in the moment. That is really all we have, is it not?

  May 5, 2025

  aging, alzheimers, dementia, family, health, mental-health, moment, time

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• Time

  Yesterday began and ended on the same note: being present to those with dementia.

  As I have probably mentioned before, one of the sisters I hang out with likes to build things together. Yesterday we built one of those heart shaped Lego wreaths. It took us almost 90 minutes to complete, and I asked her about an hour in if she wanted a break but she was focused and wanted to complete it. She is great at comparing the pictures in the instructions to what we actually have put together, though every now and then she just wants to ad lib with the pieces and that is OK too. 90 minutes zipped by as we snapped pieces as instructed, celebrated the success along the way, and just spent time together. The human brain is amazing, short circuiting on some fronts but so sharp on another. For example, across the hall from her is someone else who has dementia and who thinks she is supposed to put her garbage in the corner beside this sister’s door. Quite funny actually to find the occasional banana peel resting in the corner! Why their brain tells them to do that, no one knows.

  I had to return to this residence last night in the early evening to reclaim my laptop that I had mistakenly left behind. The residence has a totally different feel at night, mellow is the word I would use to describe it. In the lobby there are 3 women who are often sitting together in the same corner, and I can hear them talking about farming. As I arrive by stairs on the second floor the chapel has been turned once again into a movie theater, though sadly the chairs have not been transformed into comfortable ones. It is an intense movie, and the focus is palpable. There was a time when these movie watchers would have been able to go to a real theater, but time has eroded that ability so they are confined to this low imitation of one.

  Down the hall of course I found some of my favorite people, two whom were trying to set their watches to the right time. Of course one of the watches was broken so it was impossible to achieve that mission. But there they sat, working side by side to achieve their mission neither with the mental competence to achieve it. So I sat with them and offered the time, and reported that one of the watches was actually broken. I offered to grab a new one for her, knowing that by tomorrow a.m. she probably would not remember that, but her joy in knowing that I would do this simple thing for her was gift in itself. Down the hall out popped a third friend, who was busy sweeping. He likes things neat. Dirty or not, time is well spent in sweeping the floor and he is proud of his work and grateful when I acknowledge it. The home probably has regulations and such but his life would be radically improved with a battery powered vacuum cleaner that he could use to vacuum the hall ways.

  Time. As I sat in silence this morning I was struck by my experiences of time with these amazing people. How the little time I spend with them is such a gift to me. Yes, there are many who have dementia that become angry and difficult, but these 4 in particular regularly warm my heart. They have their challenging moments, sometimes trapped in time in a memory they cannot escape, often connected to loved ones they have lost or loved ones who feel it is easier on them to stay apart.

  A mere 60 minutes a week can have impact. It makes me wonder why the residence does not recruit volunteers to hang out, not for the residents but to transform the volunteers. How blessed I have been to be gifted with time with these people. I hope I can mature into the good humans that they are. Time – who will it form us to be?

  

  March 7, 2025

  alzheimers, dementia, family, life, love, presence

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