Gary Barg, Editor-in-Chief
I received a call from a dear friend of mine, who recently retired from the health care industry. You could say he was one of my first mentors, when starting out on my journey of caregiver support 25 years ago.
He leads a men’s group in the small town in which he lives and asked if I could call into one of their meetings to talk about a common situation that has occurred for each of the members – caregiving.
I was honored to do so and last night through speaker phone I was able to join their meeting for a half-hour. These are mostly retired top-level people in their fields, with decades of wisdom among them. But caregiving had them all stymied. The questions they asked of course were cogent and pertinent including:
- When do I know it is time for someone else to care for my loved one?
- What happens if I ignore those signs; what risks am I taking with my health?
- What are the risks one can face when the care required exceeds my abilities?
We talked through all these issues when one of the members asked about something that was greatly concerning him. He said that he was disappointed in himself because he thought the more his father’s cognitive abilities receded, the more he feels that he is objectifying him. In other words, there is no real conversation anymore and he is treating his dad differently than he ever had.
I could hear through the phone wires how truly heart-breaking the situation is for him. I told him that nothing could be further from the truth. He just needs to know that although his dad still looks like that strong loving man who raised him and with whom he could talk about anything, inside he is not able to function as before and holding the same kinds of conversations would be fruitless.
The best he could hope for is that sitting with his dad, smiling, holding his hand and talking about whatever his dad was able to discuss was a gift. All he could hope for, is that he makes his dad feel better by his presence and for as long at it lasts, that his dad feels a bit happier for their interactions.
He needs to realize that for someone living with Alzheimer’s disease, just being with them is a gift. I firmly believe that the last thing that we let go of cognitively is the ability to recognize kindness and love. And for that there can be no disappointment or shame.
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