Donāt ask someone with dementia if theyĀ āknow your nameā orĀ āremember youā
If I can, I always opt to ditch my name tag in a dementia care environment. I let my friends with dementia decide what my name is: Iāve been Susan, Gwendolyn, and various peoplesā kids. Iāve been so many identities to my residents, too: a coworker, a boss, a student, a sibling, a friend from home, and more.Ā
Donāt ask your friend with dementia if theyĀ āremember your nameā ā especially if that person is your parent, spouse, or other family member. Itās quite likely to embarrass them if they canāt place you, and, frankly, it doesnāt really matter what your name is. What matters is how they feel about you.
Hereās my absolute favorite story about what I call,Ā āTimeline Confusionā:
Alicia danced down the hallway, both hands steadily on her walker. She moved her hips from side to side, singing a little song, and smiled at everyone she passed. Her son, Nick, was walking next to her.
Nick was probably one of the best caregivers Iād ever met. It wasnāt just that he visited his mother often, it was how he visited her. He was patient and kindāreally, he just understood dementia care. He got it.
Alicia was what I like to call, āpleasantly confused.ā She thought it was a different year than it was, liked to sing and dance, and generally enjoyed her life.
One day, I approached the pair as they walked quietly down the hall. Alicia smiled and nodded at everyone she passed, sometimes whispering a, āHow do you do!ā
āHey, Alicia,ā I said. āWeāre having a piano player come in to sing and play music for us. Would you like to come listen?ā
āAh, yes!ā she smiled back. āMy husband is a great singer,ā she said, motioning to her son.
Nick smiled and did not correct her. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and said to me, āWeāll be over there soon.ā
I saw Nick again a few minutes later while his mom was occupied with some other residents. āNick,ā I said. āDoes your mom usually think that youāre her husband?ā
Nick said something that Iāll never forget.
āSometimes Iām me, sometimes Iām my brother, sometimes Iām my dad, and sometimes Iām just a friend. But she always knows that she loves me,ā he smiled.
Nick had nailed it. He understood that, because his mom thought it was 1960, she would have trouble placing him on a timeline.
He knew that his mom recognized him and he knew that she loved him. However, because of her dementia, she thought it was a different year. And, in that year, he wouldāve been a teenager.
Using context clues (however mixed up the clues were) Alicia had determined that Nick was her husband: he was the right age, he sure sounded and looked like her husband, and she believed that her son was a young man.
This is the concept that I like to call timeline confusion. Itās not that your loved one doesnāt recognize you, itās that they canāt place you on a timeline.
What matters is how they feel about you. Not your name or your exact identity.
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