Some years ago, I visited an elderly gentleman with advanced Alzheimer’s disease. He was being well cared for in a memory-care unit within an assisted living facility. The staff did a wonderful job caring for the residents of this unit, understanding that what may appear as delusions to visitors were all too real for the person with dementia. “If a delusion is experienced as frightening or dangerous to the resident,” one nurse told me, “we do our best to gently steer them away from it, while reassuring them that they are safe.” However, if a delusion appears harmless or brings the resident joy, the nurse encouraged me, then the best thing to do was to “go with it,” engaging them in a friendly manner while always ensuring their safety.
After visiting the gentleman for some weeks, I discovered that he was greatly comforted by an infant doll that he considered his own, living child. He would often be seen sitting in the common area cradling the doll, speaking to it softly accompanied by kisses. He never gave the doll a name, a nurse told me, but that it was simply “my baby.” The staff eventually placed a crib in the gentleman’s room so that each evening he could place the “baby” under blankets for the night. Although my new friend had forgotten most of his past life, including the fact that he had an adult, living son, he remained comforted by his perception that he had an infant child for whom he could show his love and care.
I contacted the resident’s son and healthcare proxy, named Jim, who had not visited his father for several months. Jim stopped coming to the facility, he told me, the day his father no longer recognized him. “It has been too painful to realize that he no longer knows who I am,” Jim told me, “and I would rather remember my dad as he was and not as he is now.”
As a pastor and chaplain I often encounter people who have tremendous difficulty visiting their loves one with advanced dementia, especially ones who no longer recognize them. This is understandable, as no one wants to experience a loved one looking at them with a confused stare and speaking the words: “Who are you?”
According to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the American Health Care Association and the National Center for Assisted Living, approximately 1.5 million people are currently living with dementia in skilled nursing and assisted living facilities in the United States. Given that dementia in its advanced stages often robs individuals of their sense of self and alters familial relationships, it is understandable why Jim found it too painful to visit his father who no longer recognized him.
I encouraged Jim, however, to consider visiting the facility as an act of unreserved compassion, for even though his father was not the person he was several years ago, that person holding the infant doll is indeed his father as he is now. The Hebrew Scriptures say that in the beginning, the Creator made us in his own image and likeness (Genesis 1:26). All human beings, therefore, regardless of illness or disability, remain “beautifully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) and deserving of love.
Reaching out to another human being with compassion, I encouraged Jim, not only does wonders for the suffering person but also transforms us in the process. Jim reluctantly agreed to visit the facility as long as I would accompany him, fearing that he might emotionally “break down” and need some support. When we arrived at the facility several days later, Jim and I saw his dad sitting in a rocking chair in his room, gently holding an infant doll wrapped in a soft blanket. Although the gentleman did not recognize his son, Jim exchanged pleasantries with him and appeared to accept the fact that although his dad no longer knew who he was, he was still his father, now living with a debilitating illness.
At one point during our visit, the gentleman said to Jim: “Would you like to hold my baby?” Showing us the infant doll, he said: “This is my baby … his name is James … and I love him, I love, I love him,” accompanied by several tender kisses. Jim smiled with tears running down his face and held the “baby” for some time before returning the doll to his father’s arms.
Following our visit, the son told me that while everyone else in the world called him “Jim,” only his father ever called him “James.” This name signified an affectionate bond that had existed between father and son and now appeared, through the medium of an infant doll, to remain intact. What wonderful healing can take place when one person reaches out with compassion and unconditional acceptance for another suffering human being. Jim discovered that although his dad would no longer recognize him, this person with dementia did indeed know that he had a son whom he loved, a beautiful baby named James.
The United Church of Bernardston is a welcoming faith community of Christians who celebrate and are receptive to the voice of God. We celebrate the beauty and uniqueness of each expression of God’s diverse family as well as our oneness in Christ. As we embrace Christ’s mission of compassion, justice and healing, we welcome into our community persons of every age, race, color, ethnicity, nationality, gender identity/expression, sexual orientation, mental and physical ability, economic and social status, faith background, marital standing, and family structure. We invite all to share in our worship as a faith community each Sunday at 9:30 a.m. during the summer and 10:30 a.m. after Labor Day as we seek to grow together in faith and love.