Dealing with friends who suffer from memory problems

ronk

ronk

Member
I eat lunch with my friends in my apartment building. For awhile it was fine. Then we started getting one woman who can't remember anything. Every time I see her, I have to introduce myself, and answer the same questions like "where were you born." I am polite to her, but also very stressed by the situation.

I've coped with the lunch problem by sitting with some other friends at a different table. But then today I saw here in the downstairs lobby, and the questions started again. Fortunately I was able to sidestep the conversation because we had a retired therapy dog come to visit.
 

ronk said:
I eat lunch with my friends in my apartment building. For awhile it was fine. Then we started getting one woman who can't remember anything. Every time I see her, I have to introduce myself, and answer the same questions like "where were you born." I am polite to her, but also very stressed by the situation.

I've coped with the lunch problem by sitting with some other friends at a different table. But then today I saw here in the downstairs lobby, and the questions started again. Fortunately I was able to sidestep the conversation because we had a retired therapy dog come to visit.
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Ah, you know she can't help it. Make her smile, that will also make you feel good.
How lucky you all are to have a Doggie come to visit! šŸ¶
 
Depending on your age, you might be the person asking the same question at some future time.

Believe me, as I'm about to hit 90, you might be surprised at the daily things that puzzle me from time to time. Fortunately not too often and I haven't yet been puzzled as to who the woman is beside me, when I awake in the morning.
 

Jace said:
Smile..
And...
Think... "there but for the grace of God go I"


"
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I like to smile, but do I have to think too? If I don't have to think about it then it is easier to keep smiling. Everyone looks at me and wonders, 'what's he smiling about?' Some people just can't stop worrying about everything. Those who don't remember are blessed, truly. It's the rest of the world that's about to run off a cliff.
 
I visit with my aunt occasionally. She always asks me who I am. I tell her and then she asks me whose daughter I am. I tell her who my parents are and she asks how they are.

For the longest time, I'd tell her that they had died. She'd sympathize and want details and then fifteen minutes later, we start all over again.

Now, I just say "Oh, they're fine and send their regards!" It saves a lot of time.
 
This is a good subject. I was in a ZOOM prayer meeting my Pastor started during COVID.

A friend from my church was in a different prayer group and they wore masks and had to limit the group to keep them from being too close to one another.

She would call me and ask who was at the ZOOM meeting but thought we were all there , somewhere, in person.

It was difficult for me to explain what ZOOM is. A few times she called me up during the ZOOM meeting and didn't understand
why I was unable to talk to her, but had to call her back.

She has hundreds of DVDs her dead husband had bought but she cannot figure out the DVD player even though many have tried to write down instructions on how to use it. She is really a lovely person and I feel bad for her because there is very little on TV she can enjoy.

I know so many seniors who are PC savvy ,as we are here ,and that is such a GOOD thing !
 
ronk said:
I eat lunch with my friends in my apartment building. For awhile it was fine. Then we started getting one woman who can't remember anything. Every time I see her, I have to introduce myself, and answer the same questions like "where were you born." I am polite to her, but also very stressed by the situation.

I've coped with the lunch problem by sitting with some other friends at a different table. But then today I saw here in the downstairs lobby, and the questions started again. Fortunately I was able to sidestep the conversation because we had a retired therapy dog come to visit.
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And why are you stressed over it? She has memory problems and can't help it, but she's still being friendly. Its such a little thing to be friendly right back.
 
In these situations I feel like I'm trapped in a never-ending time loop. I'll never be myself, be established. Something like that.

There are other obvious concerns when someone has severe memory problems. Their health is endangered etc.

This is different from someone who has a relative or long-time friend. There is no personal attachment in that regard. From some of the responses, I get the feeling that my own feelings are not important. I don't need to justify myself. In her case, I am never rude. But I choose to limit the amount of exposures.
 
If you are lucky enough to live long enough, you too will experience memory issues. It comes with age and is one of the lessor of many ailments that come with living a long time. Be kind.
 
My dad used to say, "So what if you've heard the story before? If it's a good story, enjoy it again!"

It's true. When you were a child, you enjoyed being read the same book again and again, didn't you? And you can listen to a good work of music over and over....."I LOVE that song! I wish they'd play it more often!"

As they say, the four signs of getting old are:
1. You forget things.
2. Uh, I can't remember what #2 is.
3. You start to repeat yourself.
4. You start to repeat yourself.
 
When I encounter those with memory issues I just go with the flow. Answer their questions, listen to their stories, give them your time and some attention, repeat as necessary.
 
We are going through this now, with our nephew's mother-in-law. They recently took her to Turkey for probably her last trip to see relatives. She recalls very little. I feel for her, as her husband has been legally blind and bed-ridden for the past decade or so. They have a live-in care-taker/nurse.

I thank my lucky stars every day, that we have our health and are mobile. Things could always be worse.
 
I grew up with an emotionally ill mother. She had been hospitalized for her problems numerous times. My Dad finally admitted the best thing he could do for himself and my brothers was to get a divorce. That happened when I was 16. My life improved tremendously after that.

My mother used to sit in her chair, chain smoking. She told us my Dad was an agent of Satan, sent to drive her insane by having us children. Our only meaning in life was to save her sanity.

I rebelled against those negative thoughts. No one will ever convince me that I am worthless, or that I don't matter. That rebellion helped save my sanity, but I still had decades of work to overcome the damage such a legacy did to me.

For three of my high school years, my brother and I were under constant attacks by a gang of school bullies. Those attacks severely damaged our sense of self worth. I still struggle with the pain. I've battled against the PTSD that often drove me to react in an overly hostile way to even the most innocent of perceived wrongs.

My mother or father never read me books. My feelings on this and any other issue are valid. I treat these people with respect, even while I do my best to reduce the exposure.
 

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