I have been knitting in a compulsive sort of way lately. I am not one of those die-hards who carries a ball of yarn in her pocket so she can knit while she walks around the mall. I can go weeks without picking up a pair of needles. But this past month has contained some big lessons in humility and compassion, the kind that leave me wondering how I thought I knew anything at all — so now I have four knitting projects in process at the same time. Bear with me here…
In October, I spent several days with friends who needed extra help with their aging parents, and I came away with a better grasp of what it takes to care for someone with dementia or Alzheimer’s. My own mother had dementia so I thought I knew something about it, but she died before the condition became advanced. What I learned recently is that it is possible for a person’s body to continue to function normally while the wiring inside the mind completely short-circuits. Memory is the foundation of nearly everything that makes us ourselves. It contains our personal history and gives context to who we are in relation to the people around us. It contains basic information like which utensil to use at meals and how to find the bathroom. As I saw last month, dementia strips away those essential details, leaving the person feeling disoriented and fearful because everything is new from moment to moment.
For the first time, I also witnessed a couple nights of sundowning, a phenomenon in the Alzheimer’s or dementia patient that manifests in extreme nighttime agitation and restlessness. At about 11:00 p.m. (just when I was ready to fall asleep myself), my friend’s father would get out of bed. Sometimes he needed to use the bathroom, but many times, he didn’t know why he was up. He also had difficulty following simple directions like, “Walk toward me,” which meant that getting him settled might take 15 or 20 minutes, leaving about an hour for sleep until the next time he awoke. This cycle went on all night long. I was going home in a few days, but I felt a new empathy for caregivers in these situations, especially those who have to go to work the next day, no matter how exhausted they feel.
Then last week, I went to a hospice workshop that focused on the special needs of military veterans. Most people, as they near the end of their lives, have unfinished business they want to resolve: difficult relationships with family members, or coming to terms with unrealized aspirations, or concerns about the welfare of those who will be left behind. But as I learned, veterans often carry special burdens. The workshop presenter talked about the Army nurse who’d had to decide which soldiers would be treated and which ones could not be saved. And the Viet Nam vet who risked his life only to be condemned or ignored after he returned home. And the WWII vet who suffered from survivor’s guilt because so many of his buddies didn’t make it back alive. We all have parts of our lives we wish had been different, but fortunately, most of us don’t carry life-and-death burdens around for decades. Many vets do.
But it was still an intellectual exercise until the workshop presenter asked all the veterans in the group to stand. Hospice nurses rose to their feet. Guys with long, gray ponytails and younger men in business suits stood. So did a Native American woman at my table, and I thought about how little we can really tell about each other from appearances. Then the presenter spoke about those veterans who came home changed by their service in ways that made them difficult to live with. She asked anyone whose life had been touched by a veteran like that to stand, as well, and nearly a third of the people in the room got out of their chairs. Again I was struck by the realization that people around us are carrying pain we may never know about, and we should probably all give each other a break more often than we do.
Maybe if other people had had these same experiences in less than a month, they would think it was no big deal, but I feel like some of my inner workings have been rearranged. So while they’re sorting themselves out, I’m trying a completely unrelated antidote to this sense of disorder.
Sock in process (Yes, I do know that I can buy socks at Target.)
Hat will be much cuter when there's a small child under it
2/3 of a shawl
Baby sweater -- 3 days, start to finish
You have your coping mechanisms, I have mine. And if I keep up this pace, maybe you’ll get one of mine for Christmas.
Very touching and thought provoking Michelle. I am impressed with the way that Truman ALWAYS makes it a point to REALLY talk to old veterans that we see on the street, in restaurants, museums or public transport (even when we are at a bathroom stop on the interstate and in a hurry). One haunts me.. a very frail old vet alone came hobbling into the McDonalds in Ft Edward with a hat & jacket from the 1st Marines. Truman went over to talk to him at his table and they must have spoken for about 20 minutes about when he had been at Iwo Jima. He knew one of the GI’s featured in the TV series about the Pacific. He told Truman a lot of interesting stories. He seemed touched that someone would listen and spend time with him.
Another vet he met at the Maryland rest stop who had served in the “RedBall Express” supplying Gen Patton’s Third with supplies. He was also glad to talk to someone about his service. I believe it may have been an all black unit. Another vet we met at Steve’s Place Restaurant in Glens Falls and he had been a pilot on an aircraft carrier. Once when he landed he hit the main bridge on the ship and his plane broke in half and caught on fire. He showed a lot of burn scars and told us that a video clip of that crash is featured in many stories about WWII. I could go on and on about others but have said enough. Supporting the troops means more than lip service and acting patriotic. They need human interaction and attention.
What an interesting and thought-provoking comment. Thanks. Judy
“Supporting the troops means more than lip service and acting patriotic. They need human interaction and attention.” You said it all in those two sentences, Dolly.
~MY
Michelle, I really enjoy your thoughts on a variety of subjects. Please keep writing as it makes me think about things that aren’t in my immediate day to day thoughts. I appreciate it. Dolly
For most of our history, those who fought were citizen-soldiers–people who left civilian life for a period of time, served their country, then returned to their normal lives. More recently, we have developed a professional, all-volunteer military service. This was partly in response to the resistance to the draft during the Viet Nam era. The downside of having an all volunteer force is that we lose the sense of participation and shared burden of military service.