Some of you may know that our family is going through a journey together, along a road that has taken us all to places unanticipated and even unimagined. My mom has shown signs of dementia for years, who knows how many? Slowly and often imperceptibly growing, often without change or attention for months, and then a leap forward with a telling comment, or outburst, or uncharacteristic action, that leaves us with more questions than before.
After a stint in the hospital due to a UTI (which is a brain virus for seniors) and C-Diff, a dreaded infection that stems from antibiotics, my mom, who is rarely, if ever, sick or injured, returned home with a body much recovered after years of neglect, and a brain that had developed much further into dementia. It seemed that she was dying, which she daily requested that we orchestrate, and which provided the only end in sight that looked possible or feasible. But slowly it became apparent that her body was still recovering from illness, and her mind was not going to recover beyond a certain point. And thus we quickly pivoted to move her into assisted living (which she had often mentioned in the past, certain she belonged there) which, once there, she alternately appreciated and hated. That was over six months ago.
I am currently reading a book called “Travelers to Unimaginable Lands” which analyzes not just the disease of Alzheimers but the relationship of patient with the caregiver. Reading this has given voice to some of my most difficult questions and feelings. Caregivers, being human, cannot help but be drawn into the reality of someone with dementia, unless and until they come to the clear conclusion that the person is not really “there” anymore, in which case all motivation for loving them and caring for them becomes a moot point. So of course we search for the person, we rejoice when we see him/her, and we encourage actions, thoughts and feelings which we find desirable or healthy. The closer we are to the person with dementia, the harder it is to simply have a dispassionate compassion, which is the most sustainable mental perspective of a caregiver who must withstand daily, minute changes in everything from mood to purposeful action, including those that feel very close to being the “real” person!
There are endless examples of this but I’ll just give one. My mom frequently discusses her desire to die—now, today, this minute. I have responded in many ways, from a philosophical/religious discussion, (“Well the Lord must still want you here…remember you bring all your burdens with you…”) to practical and even humorous (“You can’t. You can’t remember to stop eating and drinking, which would be the only way for you to initiate it at this point. And we can’t help you without being in trouble with the law….go for it! Fall down, see what happens!”) And sometimes it “works,” meaning we get into a funny, or meaningful conversation that feels like my mom, or it “goes south,” or deteriorates into unhappiness or anger, usually separation with no hugs or good-byes. How is it possible for me to not feel sad walking away from that situation? I don’t think it is. Anti-depressants help, as do regular visits, but there is no magic bullet.
At its worst, when mom was still at home (next door to our family, where dad still lives), I distinctly felt the presence of hell. Once I had a vision that it was like a snake. When someone is yelling or bating or groaning in the home, and everyone else must deal in some way, whether engaging or ignoring, it’s a lot like having a big black snake hiding in the walls. It might be dormant, or it might strike, but you have no control or knowing when it’s going to do what, and the fact that it’s not anyone’s free choice for it to be there doesn’t make it disappear.
My visual of a snake led me to wonder again about the significance, or correspondence, of a snake. According to Brian David, “Swedenborg says that the serpent corresponds to what we might call scientific thinking: applying logic to things we can see, hear, taste, smell or touch in order to figure out what life is about and how things work.” As we all know from Genesis, doing this was the initial downfall of the Most Ancient Church, represented by the serpent.
I also did a little research on snake remedies with homeopathy, as there are often profound connections between what remedies are and what they affect. Here I learned that “Key symptoms associated with snake remedies include fear of snakes, aggression, restlessness, paranoia, and intense anxiety.” Yes, I would characterize radical symptoms of dementia that way.
No big conclusions today!—but thanks for listening to my musings. As medical science and our comfy modern lifestyles have allowed our bodies to hold out into the 80s, 90s, and beyond, our minds often peter out earlier. I can’t help but wonder if being stymied by these mental/brain disorders is somehow humbling us as a people to remember that we don’t actually come up with all the answers to life ourselves—that we need God as much as we ever have. I keep coming back to friends’ wise counsel, which stresses trust in the Lord and constant striving to accept and learn from the situations we find ourselves in. Certainly I have seen many incredibly good and growthful things, both in mom and in all our relationships, come forth during this mostly-inexplicable chapter. Occasionally it’s almost too obvious—like I am witnessing a period of vastation, but still in this life! Remembering how short are the difficult phases of life compared to eternity helps me to step back too.