Growing up, I have visited many care centers for the elderly. Not all of them have been hospice, and not all of them have been for family members. My mom trained our first dog as a therapy dog, and we would go with her on her visits as our golden retriever brightened up the days of those in the care facilities. My grandmother had Alzheimer’s, and it was really hard to watch as she slowly started declining. It hurt, listening to her tell the same stories again and again, asking me the same questions, watching her struggle to remember my face. So when I was told that my patient would be in the memory care unit, I was scared. Not because I didn’t know what to do, I did, I was very well versed in living in their world, in letting them lead the conversation. No, I was scared because I knew what to do, and I was scared to live through that again. I didn’t know if it would bring up memories, if I would get attached, and struggle as my patient forgot my face.
Funnily enough, my patient got discharged, and as far as I know, is doing well. And as the time went on, of us getting to know each other, and I felt my fear fall away. Yes, my patient told the same story multiple times, often with different people involved, and a different ending. Yes, I answered that I went to college 5 different times, each visit, and when I first showed up, my patient didn’t remember me. However, perhaps it was because it wasn’t a family member, and so I had a disconnect, but I actually enjoyed getting to know someone who was losing their memory. Their stories got grander each time, they would repeat jokes, and yes, it was sad to watch them forget parts of their life, but it felt more like a friendship of just reminiscing on your childhood. I don’t remember every detail of my childhood, and I am only twenty. We laughed, as my patient with losing memory lost some of the norms society places upon us, and they were just unequivocally themselves.
My favorite part of every visit was the stories I would hear. I never knew how true they were, but wow, I wish I could have written each one down. I remember going into this thinking that I would be feeling like I was volunteering. Instead, I left feeling like I had just been having an experience. It wasn’t a chore, it wasn’t a resume builder, it was simply a new part of my life that I enjoyed and looked forward to. And while my patient may not remember our chats, may not remember the laughs we had I know I always will. Overall, I learned that memory care is beautiful, and even if it involves loss, even if I had fear from past experiences, there is beauty in that loss.