Warrior Children
February 5, 2016A chapter from the book
“Transitions”
By Encore’s Director of Environmental Services
Robert Milstid
Warrior Children
A world of war is breaking out; the neuron forest plays host to the battleground filled with memories, feelings and thoughts. The microscopic chemical bursts born from their mother nerve do battle with the highly disruptive Alzheimer’s disease; this non-fictitious memory war wages on to this very day on multiple levels in The United States of America as well as the rest of the world. If I were a better man I would invent ways to heal the broken spirits of another set of victims of the Alzheimer’s disease, the children.
When the front door bell at Blue Lakes Memory and Life Care Center rings it is either a delivery or a family member for the most part. When I first started working here I didn’t see answering the door as part of my job description. One of the things that life has taught me this past year is that “It’s not my job,” is just about the worst kind of thinking a person can have while on the clock or anywhere else you might find yourself. It leads to apathy and kills ones’ potential for discovery. I now race to the door as it rings because I have come to realize that that few seconds of time spent by the visitor waiting for someone to answer the door can be a lifetime. It can be a peaceful transition from the outside world’s burdens or a vehement supply of hostile anticipations. The children of Alzheimer’s are forced into the caretaking role; I say forced because unless you deliberately go into the medical field with the physician’s oath firmly placed under your arm, then you are receiving this job description against your will. It can be a prison sentence in many ways. You can look out your small window and dream of a time when things were different; you can curl up and think warm thoughts even though you know that the monstrous disease warden has fixed the thermostat’s temperature so cold to keep you feeling helpless and in a congealed state. It is the disease that first kills the caretaker because the love of a child is hopeful and enduring and since the cure is still unrealized, hope will remain a thorn in the children of Alzheimer’s victim’s side.
Acceptance is a good place to start the healing process. While working at Blue Lakes, I see the transition of acceptance in the seasoned children. Once they have been able to relinquish the frustration of not being able to fix their loved ones and are able to receive the help they need, a calm will be evident in their stride. I notice that when the married couples first come to Blue Lakes to bring their loved ones they come in pairs, at least most of the time they do. I would say seventy-five percent of the time the child of the parent staying with us tends to be the more frequent visitor after the initial drop off. I don’t know if that is a reflection on their marriages or just the realities of work schedules within their families. This disease can pull a person left and right and down at the drop of a hat. Releasing the burdens of guilt is a good place to start in the search for a peaceful end to this world war that is being fought by children of Alzheimer’s. It’s not your fault is good medicine; a mental picnic when you are away and taking care of the rest of your family is good medicine.
One day on the way into my office a resident walked up to me and said, “Are you the doctor?”
I said to her, “No ma’am, I’m just the maintenance man. I take care of the building to make sure it is safe and working properly.”
“Oh ok. Well you look like a doctor, are you sure you’re not able to get me my medicine, it will only take sixteen minutes,” she said with anticipation.
“I wish I was a doctor. If I were I would definitely help you. I think the doctor will be in soon so you don’t need to worry,” I told her. After finishing up a report in my office, I came back out approximately fifteen minutes later.
The woman came up to me with the same nervous anticipation and said, “Are you the doctor?”
I know when a parent forgets the identity of their children; it is a deep and painful, penetrating bruise on their children’s psyche. The only way to find peace in your mom or dad’s forgetful state is to accept that it is not their fault and definitely not personal. They still love you like they used to. They simply can’t remember certain portions of their lives within any given set of moments. What we can’t see is all of the times they may remember how much they desperately love you and miss you. It could happen early in the mornings or late at night. It may be less apparent once the disease is in high gear, but I personally think the mind is constantly searching for its way back to sanity. The chemical bursts from nerve stimulation will be misdirected and rerouted to an unnatural path while it looks for the correct destination. The body naturally wants to do the right thing so occasionally it could and most likely does get a clean signal to its correct destination, and consequently a parent gets to relive an established memory and relationship.
Children of Alzheimer’s are warriors; they battle and fight their way to acceptance. Some come out with the sanity of coming to grips with their parent’s or friend’s disease; some carry the burdens and the guilt of helplessness within themselves for years after their loved ones passing. We are all doing the best we can with the level of cognizance we are blessed with as we grow and move through this winding road that is our lives. At some point in time there will be cures discovered that will disarm the Alzheimer’s disease. Until that wonderful day comes, take up your battle swords and armor all you warrior children. Don’t forget to count the blessings you still have. Life is good and bad and we are rich in spirit. As we take our battle rams and pound the doors of dementia, take heart. Soon we will storm the castle that holds the key to the cure. We move forward, and we continue to love our family. We win in the end one way or another. Stay strong until that day comes. You are worthy. You are warriors.
