Dementia is a hard road to travel

Published 1:44 pm Tuesday, March 12, 2019

By Mary Murphy

New Enon News

Email newsletter signup

Sign up for our daily email newsletter

Get the latest news sent to your inbox

A lady died two months ago who suffered with dementia. The lady lived a life of luxury in a very nice facility. She had a mind to do and say whatever pleased her.

After explaining who I was, she became very relaxed. I began getting her ready for the day. She went to breakfast with some of her friends. On her to-do list was physical therapy, beauty treatment.

Later she pulled clothes out for a wedding (smile). We continued to flow through the day and go on a bus ride. The lady loved hearing the Word of God. She taught Sunday school for 35 years.

She enjoyed company that made her feel the joy and blessing that she was still alive. She spoke out of her head on many occasions about family and friends.

The lady received many gifts of flowers and cards of much love. We prayed often. We spent time walking and talking about her past. She would often leap into another world, walking through a garden of her furniture. When she got to the playroom, she was overjoyed with praise.

She remembered her first husband, but not fondly. Looking at me she said one of her children had died, killed by a walrus. She told the story about 15 or 20 minutes.

We later went to hear Steve McGregor’s band perform to the delight of all. She often spoke of a man she called the love of her life, but could not remember his name. He treated her like a queen until his death.

The lady would often say, “Please do not leave me.” As time passed she would say, “My children need to let me go.”

“Thru the blossom of time daylight dims

As the presence of time diminish

We see the glamour fade into another world

What was once beauty to our love ones

Becomes ugly and unseemly to those of little

Understanding of what’s on the horizon for some of us.”

The disease of losing one self is hard for many, but if you have the opportunity to work with someone with this disorder, remember patience and more patience.

My Aunt Mary Morgan would say, “We know where we have been, but not where we are going.”