While the Midwest suffered a severe recession in the 1980s, I made the decision to enter graduate school after earning a degree in nonverbal and interpersonal communications. My research focused on fostering open-communication climates within diverse businesses. Three-and-a-half decades after earning my master’s degree, I am further refining my own skills, thanks to some unlikely teachers: people with dementia.
It may seem counterintuitive, but connecting with people with Alzheimer’s, Lewy bodies, frontotemporal lobe and related cognitive-impairing dementias requires us to draw on a wide-range of tools.
To be authentic communicators we need to return to a childlike purity with a touch of adult maturity. As a caregiver for my father, I learned the five keys to becoming an Alzheimer’s Whisperer:
— Learn as much as possible.
— Have and show compassion.
— Commit to providing quality care.
— Treat people unconditionally.
— Listen with an open mind and observe with empathy.
[See: How Music Helps People With Alzheimer’s Disease.]
Let’s explore a few of these concepts further.
Treat People Unconditionally
When someone says something that doesn’t fit within expectations, instead of jumping to conclusions, pause and take deep breath. What you heard is not always what was meant. As more people serve as voices with dementia, they’re helping us learn about how the disease affects people. While it’s dangerous to generalize, we have observed patterns such as moments of lucidity amid a sea of forgetfulness.
As dementia progresses, a husband with Alzheimer’s may no longer remember his wife.
Years ago, a caregiver told a story, featured in my book, “Finding the Joy in Alzheimer’s — Caregivers Share the Joyful Times.” She recounted a visit with her husband in the nursing home. After he recognized her, she lay next to him on the bed. They cuddled until he started fidgeting. Concerned, he whispered, “You’d better go now, my wife will be home soon.” While funny, these incidents are heartbreaking between spouses married 50 years or more. Yet, for the person with dementia to feel safe, loved and cared for, a spouse’s communications must be unconditional. How can we blame the person who struggles to remember life’s important moments when dementia erases memories contained in brain cells that are dying?
[See: 5 Ways to Cope With Mild Cognitive Impairment.]
Listen With an Open Mind and Observe With Empathy
One day, my husband and I heard my father having a conversation. Since just the three of us were home, we wondered who else was there. We walked quietly to his bedroom and stood at the open doorway. What we observed was shocking. We kept quiet as my father stood before the full-length closet door mirror. In his native Armenian, he admonished the man in the mirror to stop mimicking him and repeating everything he said. Frustrated, he asked, “Aboosh es?” (“Are you stupid?”)
My husband and I struggled to make sense of what we saw. Was this for real? We wanted to laugh. Retreating to the living room, we wondered, should we cry, instead? We needed to figure out how to limit my father’s irritation.
Speak With an Open Heart. Be Supportive and Ready to Help, If Possible
As we were trying to figure out what to do, my father marched into the living room and informed us there was a stupid man in his room. We got up and followed him into his bedroom.
“Where is he, Mardig?” I asked, calling him by his name, Martin, in Armenian.
“He’s right there,” he said pointing toward the mirror.
“Let me look,” I said, standing in front of the mirror. “Nope, he isn’t here, right now.”
My husband asked, “Where were you when he showed up?”
“Right here,” my father said as he positioned himself in front of the mirror. “There! There he is!” he said pointing. “See? He’s pointing back at me!”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I felt torn between conflicting reactionary laughter and emotions filled with compassion. My father truly believed there was this stupid man mimicking his every move. He may have worked in a factory for his entire career, but he was very well-read and conversed intelligently. He was often mistaken for a professor. What Alzheimer’s had done to his brain made it hard for him to make sense of the world as we perceive it. If that meant, he could no longer recognize his reflection in a full-length mirror, we would figure out a way to help him. Fortunately, the bathroom mirror above the sink didn’t confuse him.
“Mardig, we’ll get rid of that irritating guy!” my husband said.
“Well, don’t kill him,” my father replied.
I burst out laughing at his reply and added, “Oh, nooo, Mardig, we’ll ask him to find someone else to talk with. Obviously, he’s not a good enough conversationalist for you.”
Concerned initially, he let out a sigh followed by a big smile. Then we all laughed, a much-needed stress-reliever.
[See: 14 Ways Caregivers Can Care for Themselves.]
Two weeks later, while I was speaking at a conference, my father helped my husband remove those offending closet doors. They reinstalled them with the mirrors facing in. Problem solved.
A month or two later, something triggered my father’s memory. He asked, “Remember that stupid guy who mimicked me? Have you seen him? I haven’t seen him at all.”
There’s a lot we can learn from talking with people with dementia. To communicate authentically, we must treat people unconditionally, listen and observe with empathy, and speak with an open heart. Imagine how uplifting it feels to be heard, understood and supported. What better ways are there to build strong relationships?
More from U.S. News
6 Ways Obesity Can Weigh on the Brain
9 Foods That Can Keep Your Brain Sharp
11 Things Seniors Should Look for in a Health Provider
What People With Dementia Can Teach Us About Authentic Communication originally appeared on usnews.com
