Morning Thoughts: December 9, 2017

It was my turn for caretaking last evening. My wife went our condo in Little Rock and I stayed at the farm with mother-in-law. Started out rough. I had to issue some demerits for untoward behavior. Didn’t work. Then I tried shame. “You promised us you would behave.”

“I had my fingers crossed,” with a mischievous smile. Then she sang “Santo Claus is Coming To Town,” for the 32^nd time that day. Next, we went through the litany of what each sibling was doing. They have all died, but we went through the list again anyway, for the fourth or fifth time that day.

It’s challenging, caring for someone who’s memory has deserted them. On the one hand, it is pleasant to think they are being cared for and that they are comfortable, well-fed, and free from work and worry. On the other hand, it’s like looking through a window toward a magnificent view that is blocked by a thick and permanent layer of fog. The beauty is there, somewhere, but we’ll never see it again.

There was only one thing left to do last night. That was to play our favorite game, the one that we play when we are alone. I call it “Name That Hymn,” and it works like this. I love playing the guitar, although I’m not very good at it at all. Old church hymns lend themselves to the finger-picking style that I’ve been trying to master for 40 years with very little result. I am to the point, though, that the hymns I play are recognizable to someone who grew up with them.

So I play. She listens, and tries to identify the song, hence the name of the game. Last night she was “in the zone.” Didn’t miss a one. That’s remarkable for someone who can’t remember that her own father passed away nearly 50 years ago.

Sometimes she’ll perseverate for a short time in naming the hymn. That’s a medical term from the root “persevere,” and it refers to “getting stuck” on some thought. When it happens, every song might be “In the Sweet By and By,” for a while. Last night, though, she moved right through from “I’ll Fly Away,” to “The Soul of Man,” batting a thousand. I couldn’t even fool her with seculars like “Maggie,” or “The Old Spinning Wheel.” And remembered more of the words to “Grandfather’s Clock” than I did.

It was a splendiferous time, all in all. Then my fingers got sore and we watched “Scrooge.”

I read somewhere that they are using music help ease the symptoms and pain of dementia. I hope so. I’ve been trying it. I caught her once listening to some hymns being sung on YouTube. I videoed a short segment, and spent two days fiddling with Adobe Premier Pro (a highly complicated and confusing profession film-making software), just to pass the time and exercise my own brain. Here it is, an altogether amateurish and rocky piece of work but, most of all, an act of love. That helps with most things.