Out of Your Mind...

I am spending a lot of time lately at a memory care unit to visit my dad.  It is a lovely facility and they take good care of the residents.  I find it fascinating how the mind works, and how it doesn’t...

Each resident I am coming to know has dementia of some form or another, but in each of them it plays out so very differently.  My dad just talks nonsense.  Most of the time talking about people and things that are not there.  He still recognizes us and has brief moments of conversation that are relevant and germane to the situation, the rest of the time he is in his own world.  Like yesterday, he insisted he go get coffee in the dining room without any clothes on...luckily my mom was there and she persuaded him otherwise.

There are other residents whose dementia manifests in other ways.  There is one woman who seems pretty with it until you realize all her language is catch phrases and she has a tendency to go off with and without warning.

There is another lady, whom I just adore, who is quite funny and she knows it.  She vacillates between being engaged and not.  Last night I asked her if the woman I saw visiting her the other day was her daughter, and she said yes.  When I asked her how many children she had, she said, “I have no idea, not too many I don’t think...it is hard to tell.”  She was also pissed last night because she was living in a much smaller place and couldn’t cook dinner anymore.  Two things that I am pretty happy about in my own life, are issues for her.

I thought some place like this would be depressing, but it isn’t.  It is rather uplifting and amusing.  People with dementia say a great deal of funny shit.  And their behavior, while being bizarre at times, is so forgivable.  It is not easy to watch your vibrant parent slip into madness, but at least where my dad is, it is a lovely place that is full of love and light.

I used to be afraid to get dementia and now I am not so upset about it.  Each one of these people is cared for so that all their needs are met, they are clean, safe and loved.  I think dementia is hardest for those who have to watch the disease progress...for the person it is happening to, they are consumed in the process of the advancing disease and are mostly unaware of where they are.

My dad’s case is like this, he doesn’t know where he is or what year it is.  But he is never really sad about it, he has miraculously accepted his fate with little complaint or issue.  His mind consumed by the disease and so also his ability to be upset about it.

So long as you have a loving family with funds to care for your loved one, things are not so bad.  And there is a certain kind of freedom to being out of your mind.  You are released from the social pleasantries, you are released from care and boredom and routines.  You are just in the moment, all the time and often that moment is one that is known only to you.

I am not making light of the disease or the people with it, I am just marveling at how our minds short out and the resulting behavior.  It is fascinating to me.  Sad, but still fascinating.

My dad and I played bingo on Saturday and it was hard to watch him not be able to move the little red screen up and down.  He just couldn’t work the bingo card. He also could not pay attention long enough to review his card to even tell whether or not he had the number being called.  Instead, he was obsessed with opening the card up which did not open.  Even though I told him repeatedly that the card didn’t open, that did not stop him from trying.

In the end, I helped him and he won the last game. And we had a good time.  It was nice to meet some of the other residents and the staff were super helpful and made sure everyone that wanted to participate, did.

I am grateful for the care he is receiving.  I am grateful there is money to pay for a place like he is in.  I am grateful to know that there are worse things than being out of your mind.  Something that I greatly feared is lessened.

I know that having resources and funds for care for him is what grants me this perspective.  If I had to care for him all day long without relief or respite, I am quite sure I would have quite another perspective and it would not be this positive.  I know my mom cared for my dad for eight years and that the last two got progressively harder each day.

Care taking is hard and caring for people who are out of their minds is not easy, is hearbreaking and for me, fascinating.  I am so intrigued by why the mind twists and turns the way it does. And the resulting behavior is often bizarre, confusing and sometimes heartbreaking.  But it is also amusing and down right funny sometimes.

And while I do my best to be respectful to all, there are times when I can’t help but laugh out loud.  And I believe that if you can find the goodness and the humor in any situation, it loses some of its ability to hurt you. It is not easy to maintain a sense of humor when watching your love one slip a little further from you every day, but those moments when I can relax and be present and allow the moment to entertain and delight me, is a special kind of love and loving practice.

People with dementia do funny and wacky things.  And I love when my dad has a moment when he can see the absurdity of his own behavior and I appreciate that immensely because I know that as his disease progresses, those moments, along with his mind, shall fade away.

We all only have right here and right now.  And for my family we are doing the best we can to find humor and joy as we lose a little more of my dad every day. It isn’t fun, but there are worse things in this life...he is not in pain, he is safe and well cared for and that is more than I could ever hope for, other than he be spared this demise....but none of us get to choose, and all of us are then charged with making the best of the hand we are dealt.  And for me, I am grateful for the humor and the release I see happen when your mind stops being tethered to what is right and polite and appropriate. There is kind of freedom to being out of your mind, I see that now.