Somehow (not one to take charge or volunteer), as my mother’s abilities were decreasing, I started dressing her for bed. My 85-year old father appreciated the routine because it made the change from day to night clear to her (and him). After I’d guide her to bed, we’d sit together on the side and look at a holy picture bearing an image she knew in childhood, that of a guardian angel leading a boy and girl across a bridge with missing planks. She’d smile over the angel and sometimes fret about the children’s safety. I’d show her that they were nearly stepping onto solid ground. Then we’d read the familiar prayer on the back, “Angel of God, my Guardian Dear….” Next she’d hold the rosary (we never were pious – tried whole rosaries as a family in the 50s, settled for Bishop Sheen TV shows later), and we’d say an Our Father and Hail Mary, later reduced to the Hail Mary alone. As she started to lose those words, my father, ever vigilant and listening in the kitchen, walked into the bedroom and filled them in. That moved my beyond words. His preference for conversation was politics, crooks, the past, impending hurricanes (before Katrina), and constant alerts to all loved ones around him: Watch that (paring) knife, Stupid, you’ll lose a finger. “…Pray for us now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

It’s a tough road, caring for a loved ones with Alzheimer’s. Once I was so tired yet determined to lift my resistant mother from her chair to tuck her in bed (why not let her sleep in her chair that night?), that I grabbed her from the front, under her arms, and pulled her to her feet, throwing both of us backwards onto the sofa. She told me she didn’t like me, that I was getting mean. I wholly agreed. Now the memory makes me laugh. I was foolish. You can’t lift a patient that way. Always get behind.

Respectfully offered,
Sally S.
Loyola University New Orleans

In my former capacity as Social Services Coordinator at a 100% free standing Skilled Alzheimer’s nursing facility in Rapid City, I observed many occasions of prayer between volunteers, family, staff and residents in late stage Alzheimer’s. When residents, who were no longer verbal, participated in saying the Rosary, led by volunteers, one could see their mouths moving and fingers moving as they passed the beads through their fingers. They may not have said the words, but they were engaged in the process. The same thing occurred during Mass, even though they were not able to vocally participate, they were very aware of what was been said and done. My favorite experience was when I was assigned to assist a Catholic resident in eating his noon meal. He had been refusing to eat and was quite agitated during the meal times. I began by telling him we would begin by saying our customary meal prayer. I made the sign of the Cross which he did as well, and said the blessing. He ate 100% of his meal that day and I asked to be assigned to assist him with his meals when I was Manager on Duty. He continued to respond in the same way and we put it on his care plan for staff to do prior to each meal. His eating did improve and he was less agitated at meal times. Prayer works even for those who are severely impaired by Alzheimer’s.

N.- July, 2007

I am writing this on May 12, 2007.

My Mother is in the end stages of Alzheimer's. She has been in a Senior Care Facility that specializes in Alzheimer's patients since February 13, 2006. She is no longer walking or talking. She stays in a wheelchair during the day and needs help feeding, dressing, toileting, etc.

In January of 2006, she was in her "violent" stage. She was still ambulatory and still saying a few words, although not usually making sense and not in complete sentences. She was in the "jealous" phase of the disease and would try to hit and throw things during her "sundowning" time of the day.

My father was still taking care of her 24/7 at that time. He brought Mom to my home in January, 2006 to take care of her for 4 hours while he went to a doctor's appointment. Although I had lived in my home for 20 years, she no long recognized my home and became very confused and violent. She was throwing things and tried to beat me with her fists (she weighed 180 lbs., and I weighed 120 lbs.). For two hours, I was trying to save my possessions and avoid her fists. At one point, I had backed myself into a corner and knew I was going to take a beating.

In desperation, I began praying the "Our Father" out loud. She stopped, got calm, and began praying with me - word for word. We finished the prayer together and then I began the "Hail Mary". She prayed that prayer word for word. During these prayers, I was able to work my way out of the corner. She worked herself back up into a rage and I avoided being trapped in a corner after that.

I was amazed at how she was able to recite these prayers word for word and the calming effect they had on her - at least the first time. It didn't work after that. I have shared this story with many people and was surprised to run across your website that related the same thing.

My mother has always had a strong, deep faith and this experience deepened my faith. The brain may be disintegrating, but our souls are always with God.

God Bless,
-- Jeanette D.

Sometimes beautiful poetry and hymns
reach deep into the heart and soul and bring comfort
to Sufferers and Carers alike,
as in these two extracts:

"And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day."

Extract from "Morituri Salutamus" by
Henry W. Longfellow

The 'stars' that are the beautiful person's characteristics,
never fade away and teach us very much about so many things.

And this one:

"Walk with me Oh my God
Through the darkest night and brightest day
Be at my side Oh God
Hold my hand and guide me on my way.
Help me to pierce the mists
That cloud my mind and heart
So that I shall not fear
The steepest mountain side"

by Estelle White

-- Submitted by Ann R., UK

As a controlling priest (former Passionist) become confessing disciple and contemplative caretaker I pray for my precious wife Joan suffering from severe memory loss. But I also pray for an ego-dominated clerical church suffering at times from so much memory loss. We don't have all the answers for life is a mystery...God is a mystery...and the church is a mystery. Blank screen! Now we cafe Christians surrendering all swirl around in the sea of God's comforting uplifting and healing presence as we ride the wave of miraculous blessing. As an OSL chaplain endorsing worship wellness I continue to affirm sin disease and death have no power over us. Released from both hospital and nursing home into my care my precious wife Joan blesses me every day so that I might be a blessing to others!
-- Alan M.

Prayer for a Mother with Alzheimer's Disease

"Take Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding,
my entire will... Give me only your love and your grace and that is enough for me." Ignatius of Loyola

Loving God,

Please bless every mother who has Alzheimer’s disease.

She was with us children as we learned to walk.
-- Guide her uncertain steps today as her balance fails her.

She taught us to cross streets and be safe.
-- Help her not to get lost, even in her familiar surroundings.

She held us close in the terrors of the darkest nightmares.
-- May she not be frightened today by the reality of her life, which is strange and totally out of her control.

She cooked thousands of meals over decades of time.
-- Please allow her to accept the caring hand that now feeds her.

She changed diapers, Lord, and served you each time she did.
-- Please give her now the humility and grace to be served in this way.

Loving God, the familiar eyes of my mother
now respond with a blank stare.
She is unable to carry on a conversation,
to ask about her family
or to serve in the central role she has had in our family.

Help her accept the surrender of her life these days.
Open her prayerful heart and fading mind
to be aware of your presence with her,
perhaps now closer than ever.

Give us, her family, the patience, courage and acceptance
to love her as she is and to support her in her daily needs.

From the Online Ministries, Prayers by and for Mothers

I wish to thank you for this website. A friend passed it on to me and it has been incredibly helpful for my father who is well into the mid-stages of dementia. I notice that he is the most upbeat after mass or the rosary because it is something he has not yet lost.
I love the Catholic church for keeping ritual for us to call upon in later years when everything must seem so foreign and strange. Dad finds much comfort in the familiar words and and actions.

Bless you;
-- SH

I was once a Caregiver to an absolutely wonderful lady afflicted by Alzheimers.

She was a joyful, warm hearted person but sometimes in the flashes of lucidity used to become very upset when she realised the state she was in.

Sitting down with my arm around her and reading a psalm to her was something she used to find greatly comforting.She was a very faith filled person and I learned so much from her and will never forget her.
Below is an imaginary letter from a Sufferer to a Caregiver.

With every good wish,
Ann R. (UK)

An Imaginary Letter From A Dementia Sufferer to A Care Giver:

My very dear Care Giver,

When you read this, please try not to consider me an ungrateful wretch. I am truly grateful for all that you do for me but I would like to try to explain how I often feel.
This illness is a robber. It is robbing me of all that made me the person I am and I am so afraid that I will come to be looked on as an ‘it’ , a ‘sufferer’ rather than ‘me’. I am still here. Often I cannot express myself and it may seem like I no longer care but if you only knew how much I do care. These are some of the things I care about.

My clothes. I always took such pride in looking well groomed and smart. Sometimes now, you forget to ask me what I would like to wear and I would so much like you to try to involve me in these choices.

Our meals. You cook very well. I used to love to cook too and it would be so welcome if you sometimes talked to me about the meals you are planning for us.

The house. I do not mean to be obsessive, but sometimes I feel like a stranger in my home when you start to move things around ; furniture perhaps, or ornaments. It would be good if we could talk about this together.

All these things are like little bereavements or losses to me. I am so frightened when everything, including my mind seems to be slipping away . You are my only anchor and I need you to try to understand how important it is to me to still be treated as the person you used to know, and hopefully still love. Demonstrations of affection mean so much to me. Hug me sometimes, please?

I know how trying it must be for you. Should we have a little shed filled with old china so that you can go there sometimes and have a ‘smash up’ to make you feel less frustrated?!

I may as well admit too that I am apprehensive of death which is surely drawing nearer. Besides the suffering, it is fear of the unknown, of a change of world. Teilhard De Chardin, whom I used to find so encouraging said that there must be terror and bewilderment when one has to pass from one to another but if one can surrender oneself totally to God it makes us enter into Him. It becomes an active reality. One more phase in a world and a ‘becoming’ that are those of our own experience.
It would help if you would sometimes read a Psalm with me.

This is not meant to sound morbid or melancholy. It is just an attempt to explain some of the things which frighten me and in which your patience and your love are such a strength to me.
Underneath all this I am still the old familiar me with many frailties but with a sense of humour and a deep care for others.

Please take my hand as we journey on together and as Tiny Tim said in Charles Dicken’s “ A Christmas Carol” ‘God Bless Us One and All’