Unexpected grace

Every now and then, something just leaps out and surprises me in my work. I had to visit some patients in a local assisted living "memory care" unit. "Memory care" is a gentle way of describing a secure, locked area where people with dementia, Alzheimers or related cognitive disorders live. Admittedly, it's not a place where most of us would like to end our days, but some of us will. This facility (which must remain nameless for confidentiality's sake) has a pretty good memory care unit and their director is very good. I have seven patients in this unit and you never quite know what they will say or do. Working in there definitely sharpens your improvisational skills!

There is one couple in the unit who live together. The husband is forgetful but still conversant. He's always a gentleman and appreciates being able to talk about his faith. His wife has Alzheimers and isn't able to converse anything more than what we call "word salad" - a jumbling of words and sounds which do not make sense to the listener. I visited the gentleman in their shared room and we had a nice visit. They've been married 64 years - I call them the "cute couple on campus" and this usually elicits a chuckle from both of them. His wife was eating her breakfast in the dining room so I joined her there.

She was sitting in her wheelchair and I could tell she didn't recognize me when I first spoke to her. I showed her my badge and introduced myself as the chaplain - she smiled at me and took my hand. She has a far away look in her eyes most of the time. I asked how her breakfast was, she struggled to reply, "I'm not hungry." She tried to say some words but they didn't make much sense so I just held her hand and smiled. Towards the end of the visit, I asked her if I could pray for her. She said, "Yes." So I offered a prayer for her and her husband and a blessing. She said, "Thank you." I told her, "You're welcome - I'll see you soon."

As I gathered my belongings and put on my coat, she watched me intently. As I turned to leave, she reached out for my hand and said, "I love you." I was taken by surprise. I took her hand and she pulled me towards her and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wished her a Merry Christmas.

Like I said, you never know what will happen!

Anywhere else, we'd call it "Over Sharing"

There's something rather refreshing about working in the dementia unit. When you work with people at the end of their lives, it's remarkable how all the burdens of propriety are shed as time grows short.

I was visiting a facility to see a patient of mind only to meet another resident who was from Germany. I asked her where she was from in Germany and her response was "Hof" ... the town just down the road from where Beloved Husband lived when he worked in Germany for a manufacturing company. We talked about Hof and she invited me to her wedding (she invites everyone to her wedding ... and it's always on Saturday). I asked her if we would smash plates (a local custom in Hof) and she said, "Sure! I have three cases of plates." I promised to join her for the party and the wedding.

This week, I returned to the facility and saw this resident again. She asked me if I would come to her wedding, and I assured her I would. She then said she didn't want to come to America, but she did because her son called her from Waynesboro to tell her Karl was with him (in Waynesboro). She said, "Karl?! You mean the man who took my virginity?" ... Um ... yeah, that Karl.

Anywhere else, we'd call this "over sharing" ... in the dementia ward, it's just another day of reminding ourselves that these elders of ours had a life that was far more colorful than we give them credit for having!