When I first entered the world of blogging, “Dementia Dialogues” was my chosen title. I wrote a few posts but nobody read them and now I can’t even find the site (I thought that once something was on the internet it was there forever!)
Anyway I’m rather glad that those first few clumsy attempts at blogging are now in the trash because I feel a bit stupid now for even trying to write about these kinds of conversations. I also feel presumptuous in thinking that I had some sort of secret solution to the dilemmas faced by carers of people with dementia because there is no one-size-fits-all. Every single person with dementia is an inviolable individual with a history, attitude, idiosyncrasy, personality, humour, passion, memory, skill, dream, ability that is theirs and theirs alone.
In my new job in the dementia wing of the nursing home where Ants resides (he is in the high-care section), there are ten amazing women who are utterly different from each other but, due to their dementia, are also the same.
Getting to know each of these women as individuals has been a learning curve for me. Of course I have travelled this curve before as a young nurse working in nursing homes many years ago. And now, of course, I am dealing with Anthony’s Parkinsons’ disease dementia.
We all have conversations with each other where we forget to end our stories, leave loose ends, lose the plot of the point, pause, interrupt, argue, joke, and forget what was said. Sometimes we worry about our manners, our bad hair days, our inability to bring perspective to a situation, our dirty shirts, our sneezing fits, our unswept kitchens, and our fear of dementia.
For me, a ‘dementia dialogue’ is a conversation between a person with dementia and someone without dementia and I think it is very important for the latter to just shut up and listen.
I am so lucky to have a job where I can actually do this!
(To be continued….)
jmgoyder 
same, i don’t have to finish any of the conversations out here either!
Haha! I finally have a couple of days off so want to catch up with your blog. You continue to amaze and inspire me. Actually I am in AWE of you!
crazy girl.. c
I agree with you that that’s what’s important, listening. ❤
It is a bit of a forgotten art!
You are a blessing – to those around you and even those of us on the other side of the world..
I was feeling a bit cringy about this thinking-aloud post so thanks for this reassurance, Mimi. xx
You’re an amazing person to take on this job!
I only do six four-hour shifts per fortnight so it’s not gruelling – don’t think I could do it full-time!
Am very interested to read what comes next.
Ha!
you are so very right, it is our job to listen. and, we may find ourselves on the other side one day –
The carers and other staff at this nursing home are very good so I am very hopeful for the future.
Don’t undervalue the support you are for others going through similar situations with loved ones Julie. ❤
Diana xo
Okay thanks Diana – sometimes I just feel a little idiotic putting opinionated-ish posts out there.
*hugs*!
I think that you’re right of course .. listening is always important but even more so with those who need someone to believe that what they say is important…. Diane
It’s that whole validation thing that happens when the recipient/carer is able to listen rather than interrupt, prompt, coerce the person with dementia into a ‘normal’ conversation.
And sometimes it’s hard when they CAN’T converse ?? Diane
On a daily basis, it’s got to be difficult, especially with so many different personalities … I’m sure knowing you that you usually say..do the right thing… Diane
I love what you wrote and I do think there is an art to engaging someone with dementia. Gentle encouragement and recital of pleasant memories can help fill the awkward gaps of silence. Of course, it is true how different dementia presents in every person. I remember my mom would babble at times – I would listen raptly to her. But later on, she was very silent and could hardly speak. She was very eager to hear and a week before she died, I spoke to her as if she could understand everything I told her. It turned out she did hear me and responded to tell me that. It was an incredible moment. I wished I had talked more openly to her before that. But I was so worried it would upset her. All she wanted was to be close to me and know how I was doing. All of this is very painful to think about. What you go through on a daily basis is pretty challenging. You cannot realize this now perhaps, but one day you might. I’m so glad you found writing, as I did, to express your feelings!
Thank you so much for this insight Judy. You are a hell of an amazing person and every time you talk about your mother I get such a pang. xxx
You’re welcome, Julie. I know it’s because your mom is also your best friend. I know we are/were blessed to have our mom there to get us through the toughest things and celebrate our joys with us, as well.
You are also amazing!
This is excellent advice. No use in trying to ask questions, better to just listen
Exactly! Sometimes asking questions just makes the person with dementia feel like they are doing some sort of exam!
You are brilliant and they are blessed to have you (and you them no doubt) xoxoxo
Oh Rhonda it is such a joy of a job!
That makes me very happy to hear Jules.
Wow, it has been so long since I’ve been on, when did you start working at Anthony’s facility?
Haha – only a couple of months ago. How are you?
Well that sounds really good! I’m getting bad again so I’m back here! Happy to read your great posts again. 🙂
No truer word said…….Listen.
It’s a Gift these days, not a Given.
I am a great believer in the value of listening but it isn’t always easy, as you well know.
Yes so bloody true but so many people do not know how to shut up and listen
Exactly!
They must still be there unless you deleted the blog …
I think I must have!
Good on you for keeping up the blogging on this site!
Thanks!
listening is so underrated! you have a way about you and i believe there are no barriers you can not break. thinking of you and your guys:) sending hugs and love