Snapshots of Dementia: A Person’s a Person

Posted by Marti on February 25, 2023 in Dementia | 4 comments

You remember the Dr. Seuss story. Horton the Elephant becomes the champion of Whoville, going to extreme lengths to save its citizens from threatened destruction by his jungle pals. The theme that resonates throughout arrives in Horton’s oft-repeated line, “A person’s a person, no matter how small.”  

We’d all agree.  

Or would we? 

I used to complain—or at least wonder—about people who seemed unaware of those around them: How can they not pay attention to anyone except themselves? 

You’ve seen people like this.

It’s the woman so focused on the groceries she needs that she doesn’t realize her cart is blocking the aisle.  

It’s the man who talks loudly on his cell phone, oblivious to the fact that he’s disturbing everyone around him in the otherwise-quiet waiting room.  

It’s the woman next to you at the beauty salon who launches into a long story as if you were her best friend, eager to hear all the not-so-interesting details.  

It’s someone living with dementia. Or at the very least, it could be.  

Tom, my person LWD, has trouble focusing on more than one thing at a time. He doesn’t push a grocery cart for me anymore, but when he did, he would often cut across someone’s path without realizing they were there. I intercepted several angry looks and gestures while he remained oblivious. 

He rarely uses his cell phone now, but when he did, he tended to speak loudly, and his conversations were often circular in nature. Since he couldn’t follow directions well, whatever was explained to him had to be repeated more than once, often without good resolution. 

And his stories? Most people who have even a passing acquaintance with him has heard at least one of his stories—often multiple times. 

Today, we visited a medical specialist’s office. It was our second visit, and although the doctor was treating Tom for a medical problem, he of course knew he is LWD.

At first, the doctor spoke kindly to him. He even repeated himself without flinching when Tom asked about the same thing he had explained less than two minutes earlier. 

But the more time they spent together, the less patience this doctor seemed to have. By the end of the appointment, as Tom tried to finish a (surprisingly brief) story, he interrupted him, gave me some final instructions, and walked out of the room as if Tom weren’t even present. 

I know doctors are busy, and I know this one had other patients waiting. And Tom? He didn’t seem to notice anything had changed. He blinked, turned his attention to me, and promptly forgot what had happened.  

But I knew. And I won’t forget. At my next opportunity, I’ll speak a few words to the doctor about the respect I feel a person LWD deserves. I’ll do so because: 

• A person’s a person, no matter how small their IQ. 

• A person’s a person, no matter how short their memory. 

• A person’s a person, no matter how many times they ask you the same question. 

• A person’s a person, no matter how rude. 

• A person’s a person, no matter how confused. 

• A person’s a person, no matter how much extra time they take. 

When we meet someone we know or suspect may be LWD, instead of making negative assumptions that impact our actions, let’s watch and listen closely.

Let’s take extra care to make sure the person can navigate their situation, especially if they’re alone.

And above all, let’s treat them with the respect they are due—not simply as a person LWD but as a person beautifully and wonderfully created in the image of God. 

I don’t expect everyone to understand people LWD. I certainly didn’t before our own situation escalated, and I learn new things all the time as Tom’s disease progresses. But as long as I am able, I will do what I can to help people understand that no one living with dementia is in any way “less than.”  

Even when a situation makes us laugh (as Tom and I did today when he told me he was “going out front to go in the back”), we need to make sure we’re not ridiculing the person LWD. We need to make sure we’re not hurting them. We need to make sure we’re not making them feel (you guessed it) small. 

Because a person’s a person. And I’m confident a certain tender-hearted elephant would agree. 

If you or someone you know is LWD, how do others treat this person? Have you experienced times when you felt they didn’t receive basic respect? How can we make improvements as individuals and institutions in the way we treat those LWD?

Feel free to share your responses in the comments below or on social media. Because a person’s a person, our story matters—and so does yours.