Back in the 1990s when I was a home health/hospice nurse, one of my most memorable patients was a woman I will call “Georgia”.

When I was assigned to Georgia, I was told that she had terminal lung cancer but did not feel well enough to get to her doctor visits and the doctor wanted us to find out what she needed since she did not want to be hospitalized.

I was surprised to find Georgia, her husband and 2 dogs were living in a small camper attached to a pickup truck on the gravel banks of a small river about 50 miles from St. Louis.

Georgia was a dignified and very thin older woman with a look of profound sadness in her eyes. She was getting oxygen for her shortness of breath and effective pain medication but her main complaint was unremitting nausea. Her husband was friendly and anxious to know what he could do to help his wife. Both knew her diagnosis was terminal.

Because of years working with cancer patients, I suggested a new anti-nausea regimen that Georgia’s doctor had never heard about. He checked with a pharmacist and we started the regimen. It worked well.

With her symptoms now under control, Georgia finally spoke about her fears for herself and her husband. I was able to reassure her about measures to make her comfortable and other end of life concerns but she still seemed sad.

I also found out that they moved to the little camper on the river after their home was burned to the ground. That loss was devastating for both of them but they were grateful to be able to rescue many family photos.

Then I asked if she would like to show me some of the rescued pictures and she was delighted.

Each picture had a story and Georgia was happily animated as we went through several of them at each visit. Slowly, a picture emerged of a life well-lived with family and a generous spirit at the heart of everything.

As the weeks went by, I didn’t know if we would get to the end of the pictures as she became weaker and weaker but I saw her spirits steadily improve while the sadness receded.

Georgia died late one night and her husband called to tell me that her death was peaceful for both of them. He thanked me for my help but I felt I should be thanking him and Georgia for the lesson they taught me about the beauty and importance of memories accumulated over a lifetime and remembered with love.

Today,  life review and reminiscence therapy  can be found in many hospices and nursing homes.

“REMINISCENCE THERAPY” FOR PEOPLE WITH DEMENTIA

Last week the Wall Street Journal had an article titled “To Help Alzheimer’s Patients, a Care Center Re-creates the 1950s” about a California adult day care center for people with dementia.

This first of its kind center recreates a town square representing the time period from 1953 to 1961 when most of the patients were in the prime of their life.

The rationale is that dementia makes it hard for people to remember the recent past whereas older memories are preserved better for a longer time, “especially memories from childhood and early adulthood”, according to Professor Dorthe Bertsen who heads the Center on Autobiographical Memory Research in Denmark.

According to one small study done in Europe, most participants showed no improvement on cognitive tests but there seemed to be improvement in their mood and quality of life.

In one section of the article about trying reminiscence therapy at home, Mindy Baker, director of education at George G. Glenner Alzheimer’s Family Centers, suggests going through old photos, doing a favorite activity, and telling stories to trigger memories with the family member.

The goal is to facilitate memories rather than challenging inaccuracies  because a person with dementia might get upset if their memories don’t align with the facts.

CONCLUSION

But we don’t necessarily need a fancy facility like the 1950s-inspired day care center to help people with dementia.

Over the years, I have helped care for many patients, friends and family with dementia in their homes, in hospitals or nursing homes. I saw people who hadn’t spoken for a long time light up and join me in singing songs like “You are My Sunshine”.

For my friend Dr. Anne who had dementia, I would tell stories about her achievements and show her articles that she had written and she would grin the rest of our visit.

I learned these techniques when I cared for my mother when she developed terminal cancer and Alzheimer’s in the 1980s and I saw her memory slowly fading away.

Mom finally could not remember my name or my 2 year old daughter’s but she knew we were people she liked. We would all sit together and watch Sesame Street episodes or old movies holding hands and I saw how happy that made my mother even though she could no longer speak.

Most moving to me was that almost to the very end of her life, she was still trying to load the dishwasher and making the sign of the cross. Faith and family were the two things most important to her and this was her way of showing and remembering  this.

Memories are so important to all of us and especially at the end of our lives when they may be all we have left.

Personally, I’m saving up some good ones myself.