No answers, just really tough questions.
No answers, just really tough questions.
It’s the thing my friend fears most. She calls it “losing her marbles,” though it’s actually much darker than that. Dementia, Alzheimer’s … whatever it was, her mom had it late in her life, though no one really talked about it. My friend is absolutely convinced that the same thing will happen to her, eventually.
“Believe me, you don’t want to be 95,” another friend told me this week; her mother has turned that ripe old age. She leaves out many details, but I know that watching her vivacious and adventuresome mother get confused about what time of day it is — she puts on her pajamas right after lunch, ready for bed — can be painful and difficult. Though my friend is comforted by knowing that her mom still recognizes her family, is well taken care of and seems happy and as sweet as ever.
Actually, I have long wanted to be 95. I think I still do, though I know that super aging — having the kind of brain function at 80 that people in their 50s and 60s have — isn’t necessarily a choice.
I’m hopeful that staying engaged in meaningful work, continuing to work out and staying attached to my closest relationships will help me stay sharp and able to function at my best.
I am aware that it might not. Which is a new sensation.
Also new: I am beginning to see longtime friends, some just a few years older than I am, struggle with remembering things.
It’s sobering to be in a conversation and watch a friend lose her train of thought again and again. Or not remember what we talked about a few days ago, especially since she used to be the first one with a list. I’ve also heard about a couple of recently retired pals who decided to stop working because they knew they weren’t as sharp as they used to be. Sometimes that news is shared in a whisper.
I’m not sure what to do when I hear that.
I’m not really talking about all the things we can do to keep our marbles, as it were, though I was cheered to know that, while dementia happens more often in older people, it’s not a natural part of aging.
What I’m wondering today is how to stay attached to a friend who seems to be slipping away.
When I first started thinking about this, it was almost unbearable. The drive of wanting life’s best friendships to stay the same — or deepen — is fierce. We put so much store in saying things like, “We always pick up right where we left off.”
I know now that won’t always happen.
But I have deep tenderness and love for my friend as he wanders off-topic, again. I hope I will be able to be as patient with him as he has always been with me. And I will always want to hear from my longtime friend, even though it’s been a while and she might not be exactly who she was the last time we spoke.
I think what’s slowly dawning for me, dear reader, is what it actually feels like to be transitioning to another part of my life, with the losses and adjustments that come with it. When we won’t always be able to pick up right where we left off.
What have you done with that difficult knowledge? How do you help your friends with their memory challenges?
Thank you, as ever, for sharing your guidance with me.
Thanks for this post Leanne. My friends and I discuss this more frequently as we enter our next decade. My 91 year old mother-in-law ran a business and traveled the world advising CEO's about how to manage their business and relationships. We are acutely aware she does not remember what we say to her now and struggle to help her compensate. She is painfully aware of it. I encourage her to talk to us about it and she does which helps us all.
I start my day with a jigsaw puzzle showing a beautiful place to gently wake up my mind. Then I do Wordle. I have incorporated strategies in my daily routines to help me keep my mind as sharp as I can. I find myself asking friends, have I told you this story before? I don't want to repeat myself and leave them bored.
I advised patients and their family members on strategies about how to stay connected and maintaining bonds. For people with memory issues, reminiscing works so well. Sharing memories of past events and time spent can trigger cloudy memories in those you care about and shared time with. Sharing photographs and talking about who is in them and where they were taken can be a wonderful thing to do when you visit your friends. Also playing music from shared time together triggers that part of our brain that we thought was not fully working. That is why when we hear a song we have not heard for many years the words come pouring out of us and we instantly remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard it in the past. Those are just some thoughts I had in response to your substack. My dad used to tell me when he was in his nineties that "getting old is not for sissies." It was his way of saying be patient with me and understand sometimes my days are not easy. I think he also wanted to prepare me for my own aging. Especially as I age I have more compassion for others who age with me and relish all the more the happy moments. I cherish the past beloved memories grateful that I had them with friends and family that are no longer with me either literally or figuratively. There are still moments of joy to be had. We may have to look a little harder to find them or develop ways to tap into them but they are there.