Contented Dementia

by Oliver James
Hennepin County Library paperback 273 pages (though I only read 78 of them)
genre: non-fiction, self-help, caregiving for dementia patients

Interesting but I'm not totally "sold" on this one. The author writes about Penny Garner's "SpecialSense" method of dealing with Alzheimers patients (call them "clients," even if they're your family members . . . ). Her three rules are 1. Don't ask questions. 2. Learn from them as experts on their disability. 3. Always agree with everything they say, never interrupting them. There were some aspects of this that make a lot of sense! I could picture my mom's frustration and confusion when we asked her questions and she didn't know how to answer.

page 25 - Penny spent the last 37 hours of her mother's life by her side. "Those hours are among Penny's most precious memories." Her mother Dorothy was Penny's impetus for working on dementia issues. This scene made me think of being by Betty's side and my mom's side at the end of their lives. There is something absolutely incredible about sitting with someone as they cross over from life to death.

page 37 - Alice playing bridge . . . though I understand and appreciate what they're doing to help Alice . . . it seems deceptive and artificial. I don't like lying and this method seems to be difficult and somehow wrong (though the author addresses and dismisses this concern).

page 56 - Analogy of a photo album and intact memories as "green" and positive (emotionally). The newer events are not really remembered, so are blank and cannot be recalled. Trying to picture a blank makes it become "red" - associated with fear, confusion, and other negative emotions.

I really like the personal narratives and stories. Those are the parts of the book that really connect for me. I also like the technique of avoiding questions and returning to familiar, happy topics to avoid confusion and anxiety.

I definitely would recommend this for people whose loved ones are starting to head down the road of dementia forgetfulness and repetitive conversation. I thought of Beth and her mom and dad . . .