On the way back from the hospital today, I stopped at an unfamiliar gas station. As I dashed inside to pay, the clerk looked at me for a moment, and asked, "By any chance did you adopt a rescue dog a few weeks ago?" My face broke into a ridiculously delighted grin, and I nodded.
The clerk, who also volunteers at the local animal shelter, recalled that particular adoption day quite differently than I did. My attention then was squarely focused on a busy ball of fur with floppy ears and wagging tail. I remembered the volunteer's voice, but I did not clearly remember her.
It's funny how two people can be in the same space at the same time, and yet have such very different impressions and memories of the same event.
As I drove home, I began to think about my daily visits with some amazing people who just happen to have dementia. Wonderfully accomplished, interesting, generous men and women whose memory has betrayed them.
Nearly everyday, I reintroduce myself to these remarkable people: they are parents, 4-star generals, teachers, nurses, engineers, doctor's wives, volunteers, etc. I give out lots of hugs and smiles, and we talk about whatever's on their mind at the moment. Life here is no different than anywhere else, although we may have to be a bit more creative to meet them where they are.
If they allow us to do so, we can cautiously and respectfully "come into their world". I think about my own family members who lived with dementia over the years, and the frustration and agitation it can sometimes bring. If I can bring just a little distraction and connection to them for even a brief moment, it's so beautifully, ridiculously worth it.
Be well.
