Snapshots of Dementia: Thank You for Being a Friend

Snapshots of Dementia: Thank You for Being a Friend
Friday, October 28, 2022 by Marti

*Tom with longtime friend Marty Marks, who drove across several states to visit us in 2020.*

Tom has always been a relational person. One of the things he taught me early in our marriage was to value people. Through the years, we have traveled many miles, often out of our way, to spend time with friends. In a marriage that has taken us coast to coast, we rarely lived close to our biological families, but God has consistently given us friends who have become family.

The onset of COVID gave us a somewhat rough landing in our then-new hometown—but the delays caused by lockdown have made us appreciate relationships even more. Every time we’ve gone through a challenge in our lives, we’ve noticed that the true friends remain. The same has proven true of dementia.

I read this week that one in ten U.S. adults over age sixty-five now has dementia. And then there are the many, like Tom, who develop it well before that age. In other words, you most likely know someone living with this disease.

So how can you be a friend to someone living with dementia? Based on the thoughtful ways his friends and family treat him now, here’s what I believe Tom would say in response to this question if he could.

NOTE: This is by no means an exhaustive list and will vary from person to person. It will also change with disease progression.

10 WAYS YOU CAN BE A FRIEND TO SOMEONE LIVING WITH DEMENTIA

1. Talk to me—and listen to what I say. Social situations challenge me, but they also help me.

2. Touch me. Physical touch still matters to me. Feel free to hug me, take my hand, or whatever is comfortable and appropriate for our relationship.

3. Remember that I forget. Try not to ask, “Don’t you remember …?” even if it’s about something that just happened. The short answer: No, I don’t.

4. Forgive me. I don’t have the same control over my emotional responses as I did in the past. I may cry, laugh, get angry, or fail to respond at all in situations where you might expect just the opposite.

5. Move on. I may do or say things that are at best awkward or repetitious and at worst inappropriate, even offensive. A wise friend will ignore whatever I said. If you move on, I will too.

6. Be sensitive. Respond to the me you see today, even if it’s different than the last time we interacted. My cognitive state and behavior depend on my physical health, time of day, and a number of other factors.

7. Respect me. Allow me to do those things I am still able to do, even if I don’t do them well. Remaining active helps both my brain and my body.

8. Let me be quiet. If I’m silent, there may be too much happening around me, and I can’t process it fast enough to respond.

9. Protect me. While my thinking process and even some of my physical abilities have changed, I don’t always recognize it. If I’m endangering myself or someone else, please either speak to my care partner (if immediately available) or redirect me.

10. Recognize me as a person of worth and value, created in the image of God—and treat me accordingly.

I watched Tom blossom when we came out of our COVID lockdown because of the power of human interaction. I see the faces of the friends at the nursing homes we visit brighten when we reach out with a word, a smile, or a simple touch.

If you or someone you know is living with dementia, how have friendships helped them? What tips would you offer to someone who wants to develop or maintain a friendship of someone living with dementia? Feel free to add to my list. Our story matters—and so does yours.

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