Have you been to a nursing home recently? Maybe to see a relative and check up on them and tell them you love them. I went to visit my grandmother early this past summer, down in hot, steamy Orlando, Florida. She was living at the time in memory care, so all the residents there, including my grandmother, had some sort of memory problem.
Admittedly, it can be very depressing to sit in a room full of men and women whose minds are fading. I remember watching the TV with my grandmother next to a woman who was asleep. Suddenly, the woman wakes up.
“Josey,” she says. “Josey? Where’s Josey? I want Josey! Josey?”
I didn’t know what to say to this woman, but it wouldn’t have mattered, because she fell back asleep as quickly as she had woken. Later, at dinner, I could see her crying into her hands.
You see similar problems in almost every resident. One has to be fed by a nurse. Another refuses to eat. Yet another speaks softly to no one, expecting a reply from someone only they can see.
As a person who gets rather emotional about people with memory loss, I tended to look away from these scenes. I would focus closely on my grandmother, asking her how she was and telling her that it always makes me so happy to see her.
My grandmother seemed to be one of the luckier residents. She often forgets my name, the year, the where and the when, but she knows us, and she is witty. She says how much she loves it when we visit.
It is easy to look around a room of people with dementia and Alzheimer’s and conclude that, as my grandmother points out frequently, “Getting old is for the birds.” You would be justified. After all, none of these residents asked to get old.
They never asked to lose their mothers, fathers, friends and siblings. They never asked to be haunted by confusion as every new fact about who and where they are evaporates away as soon as it is learned. A person doesn’t ask for wrinkles, varicose veins, knobby arthritic hands and broken hips. No elderly person has asked to lose their independence and be treated once again like a child.
However, although it is hard to watch our loved ones get old, we should not shut our eyes and wait tearfully for it all to be over. This happens too often — by one estimate, 60 percent of nursing home residents get regular visitors. In some cases, they have no children. In others, their children live far away, or don’t visit because “Dad won’t recognize me anyway.”
Instead of turning away, we need to change our attitude toward the elderly by focusing on the positive presence we can be in their lives. When my family and I go to visit my grandmother, she lights up. When other residents saw their own family members, they became alert, excited, happy. You could see it in their eyes, even though they sometimes could no longer speak.
We can all help out in nursing homes whether or not we have a relative there because so many residents are in need of visits and of people to talk to. Many nursing home residents pass long stretches of the day with nothing to do, and this lack of stimulation is detrimental to the mind. Conversely, when residents have lots to do, this can give them a sense of purpose and help them to continue finding joy in the time they have left.
If you walked into a nursing home and asked how you could help, I am sure the managers would find a way for you to participate with the residents. You can build relationships with them and become like family, a regular part of their lives. Even if they have poor memory, your presence will matter.
By working with nursing homes as a community, we can be the visitors that many residents would otherwise lack, and in this way, we can help nursing home residents live a more loving and fulfilling life.
