Playful Antagonist

1. The WTF reaction by the ref

2. The dude who escapes looks like an Irish boxer from the 1800′s

3. Who’s also gay sassy (I mean those trunks and that hand flick)

If I can, I always opt to ditch my name tag in a dementia care environment. I let my friends with dementia decide what my name is: I’ve been Susan, Gwendolyn, and various peoples’ kids. I’ve been so many identities to my residents, too: a coworker, a boss, a student, a sibling, a friend from home, and more. 

Don’t ask your friend with dementia if they “remember your name” — especially if that person is your parent, spouse, or other family member. It’s quite likely to embarrass them if they can’t place you, and, frankly, it doesn’t really matter what your name is. What matters is how they feel about you.

Here’s my absolute favorite story about what I call, “Timeline Confusion”:

Alicia danced down the hallway, both hands steadily on her walker. She moved her hips from side to side, singing a little song, and smiled at everyone she passed. Her son, Nick, was walking next to her.

Nick was probably one of the best caregivers I’d ever met. It wasn’t just that he visited his mother often, it was how he visited her. He was patient and kind—really, he just understood dementia care. He got it.

Alicia was what I like to call, “pleasantly confused.” She thought it was a different year than it was, liked to sing and dance, and generally enjoyed her life.

One day, I approached the pair as they walked quietly down the hall. Alicia smiled and nodded at everyone she passed, sometimes whispering a, “How do you do!”

“Hey, Alicia,” I said. “We’re having a piano player come in to sing and play music for us. Would you like to come listen?”

“Ah, yes!” she smiled back. “My husband is a great singer,” she said, motioning to her son.

Nick smiled and did not correct her. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and said to me, “We’ll be over there soon.”

I saw Nick again a few minutes later while his mom was occupied with some other residents. “Nick,” I said. “Does your mom usually think that you’re her husband?”

Nick said something that I’ll never forget.

“Sometimes I’m me, sometimes I’m my brother, sometimes I’m my dad, and sometimes I’m just a friend. But she always knows that she loves me,” he smiled.

Nick had nailed it. He understood that, because his mom thought it was 1960, she would have trouble placing him on a timeline.

He knew that his mom recognized him and he knew that she loved him. However, because of her dementia, she thought it was a different year. And, in that year, he would’ve been a teenager.

Using context clues (however mixed up the clues were) Alicia had determined that Nick was her husband: he was the right age, he sure sounded and looked like her husband, and she believed that her son was a young man.

This is the concept that I like to call timeline confusion. It’s not that your loved one doesn’t recognize you, it’s that they can’t place you on a timeline.

Some tips from the inside, in case they help:

- life has always been pointless. Or rather, we have always been unable to control the relative point-fulness of life. The factors involved in opening the possibilities of who can have a large scale impact where are so insanely complex that they can at best only be pieced together imperfectly in retrospect

- the only thing that has changed is your awareness of this fact. No, seriously. The sun will eventually swallow the planet; at any moment without our knowledge or control the sun could flare in weird ways that will kill us all; etc. There was geopolitical and socioeconomic fuckery as bad or worse going on before: you just didn’t see it. Promise.

- you do what you can with what you have. You do what’s in front of you. Humanity has survived all of this before; it may survive it again. It may not. You can only do what you can: take what lessons exist from the past and apply them.

- sometimes it is just that bad and they are totally out to get you. The question is, what do you do about it?

- almost without exception in human history the answer has been “build community; support the one you have; reach out to connect MORE and to make the world more kind and less hateful than before.”

- recognize you’re trying to tackle god-level problems with a brain originally meant for keeping small proto-fish from being eaten. Treat that part of your brain like a very anxious toddler or rescue pitbull. Give it small measurable victories and successes even if you have to make them up. Make sure it’s fed and watered and has enough rest. Medicate it if you have to - there’s nothing wrong with that. The opposite, in fact.

[Note: When J. Elliot refers to her being classed as one of ‘your people’ in relation to black people of color, it’s based on her reputation of being an outspoken, anti-racism ally].