Thursday, March 20, 2025
Today was the trial program at the Alzheimer’s Foundation. Although I had prepared by researching color schemes and selecting weighted, larger cups, I knew that stepping into a group of 11 participants—a mix of patients and caregivers—meant navigating an unpredictable space.
The two gentlemen were the most challenging. They pushed back against the process quite a lot. Even though I knew much of it was what the symptoms were, for a moment, I almost felt I lost grip of the situation and I was taking their resistance personally. My brain was constantly searching for solutions. Midway through, I reminded myself that expecting a particular outcome from them was unrealistic and, in many ways, unfair. Linda, the social worker there was super helpful in working together to cool down the elevated situation, and we tried to have a moment of silence just to alter the situation a bit. It seems to get easier after that. To my surprise, at the end of the session, both of them took time to reflect and offered sincere feedback. One of them said, ‘It was a good thing to do this, to hang out with peers. It reminded me of when I was on the board of my building a long time ago...’
I was relieved that the two patients, Sarah and Lucy, with the most severe symptoms were seated directly across from me with their caregivers, allowing me to maintain eye contact and observe their responses more closely. Both had language impairments; Sarah, in particular, needed significant assistance with feeding. At one point, she struggled with her cup, tipping it over in frustration as if she was trying to figure it out on her own. But after two cups, she started settling in. Her expressions became more animated as she attempted to communicate. Though I couldn’t understand her words, I tried my best to meet her gaze and acknowledged her efforts. I could feel that what she was saying mattered to her a lot. Other participants even noted that Sarah was much more talkative than usual. Though language seemed to serve no purpose as a means of communication here, I sensed a light behind the shade of her eyes and the subtle tones in her voice. How I wish I could have understood her messages. Yet, the messages themselves might not be the key here, and what we had was good enough for the moment.
Lucy, on the other hand, wavered between participating and holding back. She took sips occasionally with her son’s help. When I asked the group what they liked and what could be improved, she really tried to express herself, using her hands to hold up an invisible round shape in front of her. Carefully, she formed the words: ‘It… was… a… nice… feeling.’
I left the space with much gratitude and I did hope that it left a positive impact on them.
(All names mentioned here have been changed for privacy.)