On a hectic trip to the local drug store, I picked up several items and headed to the checkout. I also needed stamps, which I knew can be obtained at the cash register. While I am placing my items on the desk, the cashier begins to fire questions at me. Do I want a bag? Do I have the store’s points card? How would I like to pay? Every time I opened my mouth to ask for stamps, she fired another question at me. Finally, in desperation, I blurted in a louder voice than I’d intended, “I need stamps!” With a startled look she pulled them out of the drawer. His entire demeanor registered suspicion and a little of “I always get the crazy ones.” I grabbed my stamps and scurried away.
In our deep-dive into respect, I wanted to consider the person with dementia, enter into their world as much as we can and try to understand and empathize. When we do that, we can begin to offer them the respect they deserve.
In another scenario, I ventured into a “much-loved-by-others-but-not-by-me” coffee shop. I went along with a group from 
work who were meeting there at lunch, and my thought was, “how bad could it be?” I soon learned. While others were ordering, my frantic eyes scanned the names for cup sizes. This most basic information left me puzzled, and the choices among the drinks were beyond confusing. Orders rolled off the tongues of others and it was my turn long before I felt ready. The young man behind the counter began firing questions at me and becoming increasingly impatient with my confusion. I finally ordered a drink I didn’t want, just to make him stop talking and slunk into a corner, feeling like I’d entered the twilight zone of coffee shops and I definitely didn’t know how to behave.
Is this what it’s like to have dementia?
Do well-meaning questions come across like rapid-fire bullets when your mind can’t process the information quickly enough?
Does it sometimes seem like people are speaking a language you haven’t learned?
Do you feel intimidated and forced into making choices you don’t want, because you don’t understand your options?
Respect slows down, explains when needed, watches the attitude and gives the gift of empathy. Enter into the world of the person with dementia for a moment.
The dementia world can be frustrating and confusing. Sometimes they shrink in shame when they don’t comprehend, or perhaps they bristle and even act aggressively. Tears can prick their eyes when they realize they’ve made a mistake, or they chuckle a hollow laugh at themselves. Or insist the mistake was yours.
With even the tiniest particle of understanding, perhaps we can temper the way we respond. Slow down. Smile. Give the gift of respect. Listen.
One more scenario.
Since forever, I’ve been terrible at and more than a little afraid of anything to do with numbers. So you can imagine the stress of tax time. My first venture into getting some professional help with my taxes didn’t go well.
I phoned them. The reception person didn’t listen well and missed the second part of my double last name. When I repeated it the third time, she got angry at me. I had no idea she’d need my social insurance number just to make an appointment, and I had to go searching for it. The frustration and impatience in her voice dripped through the line as she gave me an appointment for the next day.
Girding myself with file folders, paperwork and sticky notes, I headed over to the office, only to find the door locked. They
had closed an hour before my supposed appointment. Somewhere between her accent and her rapid-fire words, I’d misheard. I fought tears as I got back in my car, realizing I’d have to start the whole process again.
But nothing was wasted.
I’ve learned to listen. Sometimes when you do that, you can hear what’s at the root of the pain. I’ve learned to slow down. Sit down and pull up a chair before asking a question. Smile. Listen for the answer. Enjoy the person.
Come to think about it, this applies to everyone in life, not just those with dementia.
Oh, the lessons they can teach us!
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