Demented States

I was sharing with my favorite massage therapist, Jo Young, on a recent Saturday about how difficult it is to visit a loved one with dementia, especially when you have to drive several hours one way to see someone who no longer recognizes you. It was my suggestion that when she makes her next trip, Jo look for something fun to do after her visit, so that she doesn't come away with a sad heart.
I have had several experiences visiting relatives who didn't clearly recall who I was. When I asked my Great Great Aunt Eva if she knew who I was toward the last days of her life, she said "Aren't you the one they found in the bullrushes?" I remember being at a loss for words when this vibrant woman, who had lived just beyond her 101st birthday, fell into a mental world that I could not follow. I joked with her and answered back, "I guess I am." We held hands and I stroked her cheek and forehead until she fell asleep.

Another relative I requently visited slipped into an unresponsive state and stopped eating a few weeks before she died. Although she had been fully aware of where she was, what day it was and who was president up to that point, it seemed to me that once she realized she would not be going home again, she drew inside herself and drifted away. I found that by holding her hand and telling her about my comings and goings and asking her questions once in awhile, I would get an occasional squeeze from her hand that made me feel like we were connecting.

The fun things I found to do after these visits did not cost a lot of money. Sometimes I picked up lunch from an exotic restaurant or a sweet treat from a bakery to take home with me. I would go window shopping or wander through a bookstore I had not been in before. If there was a view to be seen, I drove to it and spent time enjoying it before heading home. Once I found a small shop where I treated myself to a pedicure. This place was inexpensive enough that I could return several more times after my visits.

Medical professionals have said that when someone is in a "persistent vegetative state" there is no real brain function anymore. This may be true, but I like to believe that during this transitional time before death, I can still give and receive comfort through touch and words. It somehow makes saying goodbye to these special people easier.