Steering conversations with aging individuals can be challenging as tendencies to repeat stories, exaggerate details, creatively listen, and imagine scenarios often intensify with age, leading to unfocused discussions. These communication patterns may become more pronounced as cognitive functions change, necessitating more deliberate strategies from caregivers to keep interactions on track.
In the intricate tapestry of family dynamics, Lisa found herself navigating a labyrinth of conversations that often meandered into repetitive tales, especially with her mother’s penchant for storytelling. Her mother, a vibrant raconteur, found an eager audience in Aunt Mariya, whose memory, dimmed by Alzheimer’s, welcomed the familiar narratives with open arms. This serendipitous arrangement offered Lisa a much-needed respite and allowed her mother’s stories to find renewed purpose, casting a soft glow on the shadowy realms of forgetfulness.
Lisa would often tell her mom, “Yes mom, I have heard this already, but Aunt Mariya has not, so maybe you should tell her that story before she falls asleep.” Aunt Mariya enjoying Lisa’s mom’s stories over and over again was a silver lining in the dark cloud of her Alzheimer’s disease.
Lisa’s mom had a selective memory, and she would only remember the things that suited her. She would frequently say things like, “You never told me that,” even though Lisa and her dad both reminded her multiple times that they had. This was probably because she wanted to talk and would talk over whatever anyone else was saying. Lisa finally bought a smartphone for mom and taught her to text.
She resorted to texting her mom for critical issues. These exchanges often went like this:
Lisa: “I met with an attorney today to discuss what dad wants to include in the will.”
Lisa’s mom: “So, what did the attorney say?”
Lisa: “I will call you at 6 pm tonight to discuss my conversation with the attorney.”
Another side benefit of texting was that Lisa’s mom would be ready and waiting to talk about the topic of the day that Lisa really needed to discuss with her without getting into her own long and repeated stories about her sister, her new-found friends, or her day in general. She was also able to provide more thought-out responses to the issues that Lisa had texted her about.
Through this blend of technology and strategy, Lisa managed to carve out an oasis of focused dialogue in the desert of repetition and digression, a testament to the power of adaptability and the enduring bonds of family.
Scarlett and Elise’s Story
Scarlett had always delighted in her grandmother Elise’s storytelling, but lately, she had less time to sit for hours to talk. Elise had a gift for weaving tales of her youthful adventures, which brought joy to her sister Edith, whose memory was clouded by Alzheimer’s. These stories, filled with laughter and nostalgia, served as a bridge to happier times, providing a respite from the present struggles.
As Scarlett opened the door to the shared home, Elise immediately wanted to launch into a story that would no doubt take hours and be hard to interrupt.
“Grandma, why don’t you tell Aunt Edith about that time you and Grandpa went dancing in the rain?” Scarlett suggested, gently redirecting her.
Elise’s eyes twinkled at the suggestion. “Oh, Edith, do you remember that night?” she began, her voice rich with emotion. “It was one of those rare summer storms, and your uncle and I decided to dance right there on the sidewalk, drenched to the bone!”
Edith, whose face often wore a mask of confusion, lit up at the familiar tale. “Yes, yes, I remember! You wore that blue dress, didn’t you?”
Scarlett cleaned the house, watching the transformation in both women. These stories were more than just memories; they were a lifeline to a past filled with joy and youth.
Elise continued, embellishing the tale with little details, making it as vivid as possible. “We twirled and spun, ignoring the rain. People thought we were mad, but we were just in love with life.”
Edith nodded along, a rare smile gracing her face. “And then Grandpa slipped and fell, and you both laughed so hard!”
Scarlett felt a warm ember inside, grateful for these moments that brought happiness to her family. She knew her grandmother needed these storytelling sessions just as much as Edith did. It was their unique way of coping with the challenges of aging and memory loss, and showed the enduring power of love and shared history.
As the story ended, Elise looked at Scarlett with gratitude. “Thank you for reminding me, dear. Sometimes I forget how wonderful those times were.”
Scarlett smiled, hugging her grandmother. “I’ll never let you forget, Grandma. We’ll keep telling these stories together.”
Denise and Petra’s Story
Denise had always struggled with her mother Petra’s tendency to dominate conversations, often leading them into tangents that were hard to escape. Her Uncle Lucian, on the other hand, had become increasingly withdrawn after his stroke, and rarely expressed his feelings.
One day, Denise decided to change her approach. “Mom, I got a new game on my phone that we can play. It’s called ‘Conversation Starters’,” she said, hoping to steer their talks more constructively.
Petra raised an eyebrow. “A game? What kind of game?”
Denise smiled, showing her the app. “It’s simple. We take turns answering questions. It might help us focus our conversations better.”
Petra hesitated but eventually agreed. “Alright, let’s give it a try.”
They started with a simple question: “What’s your favorite memory from childhood?”
Petra’s eyes softened as she thought back. “When Lucian and I would spend summers at our grandparents’ farm. We’d run through the fields and climb trees. It was the best time of my life.”
Denise glanced at her uncle, who was listening intently. “Uncle Lucian, do you remember those summers?”
Lucian nodded slowly, his voice soft but clear. “Yes, the apple tree near the barn. I remember falling and scraping my knee, and Petra bandaging me up with Grandma’s old handkerchief.”
Petra laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “You were always getting into trouble, Lucian.”
Denise felt a sense of accomplishment, seeing her mother and uncle engaged in a meaningful conversation. The game provided structure, preventing Petra from dominating and allowing Lucian to participate more.
Another question popped up: “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance?”
Petra pondered this, then looked at Lucian. “I always wanted to travel to Italy. Remember, Lucian? We used to talk about it all the time.”
Lucian smiled wistfully. “Yes, but life had other plans.”
Denise interjected, “Maybe we can plan a virtual tour of Italy. We can explore it together from here.”
Both Petra and Lucian seemed excited by the idea. “That sounds wonderful,” Petra said. “It’s not the same as being there, but it’s better than nothing.”
As they continued playing, Denise noticed a shift. The game brought balance to their interactions, helping Petra stay focused and giving Lucian a voice. It wasn’t just about passing time; it was about reconnecting and understanding each other better.
After they finished, Petra turned to Denise. “Thank you for this, Denise. I didn’t realize how much I missed these kinds of conversations.”
Lucian nodded in agreement. “It’s been nice to talk about the good old days.”
Denise felt a sense of relief and gratitude. “We’ll keep doing this, Mom, Uncle Lucian. It’s good for all of us.”
Through this new approach, Denise found a way to navigate the complexities of their family dynamics, creating moments of connection and understanding that were both healing and fulfilling.