Comforting Others (part 2)

I began this three-part series by using Paul’s brilliant discourse as a foundation for understanding suffering in the life of believers: 

What a wonderful God we have—he is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the source of every mercy, and the one who so wonderfully comforts and strengthens us in our hardships and trials. And why does he do this? So that when others are troubled, needing our sympathy and encouragement, we can pass on to them this same help and comfort God has given us. You can be sure that the more we undergo sufferings for Christ, the more he will shower us with his comfort and encouragement (2 Corinthians 1: 3-5 TLB).

Using my experience in caring for my precious wife Linda, in today’s blog, I will address receiving comfort and giving comfort:

Receiving Comfort 

As a general rule, effective caregivers are caring, conscientious, selfless individuals; however, the very traits that contribute to their success can, for them, lead to a reduced quality of life, health issues, and, if not corrected, even early death. For me, being aware of that reality was not sufficient to bring about a change in my behavior; I had to learn how to personally apply the truth delivered to those first-century believers. I realized that I could not pass on to Linda, or anyone else, something that I had not personally received. As I struggled, the words of a former professor came forcefully to my mind: “If you want to find out where God is, search for hurting people. You will find Him in the midst of them.” I began to realize that I was one of those hurting people and that God longed to shower me with His comfort and encouragement. The Holy Spirit is enabling me to surrender my inadequacy to the Grace of Christ. Far from complete, progress is being made; it is best described as a work in progress.

Giving Comfort 

Early in our journey into the “Long Goodbye,” I determined that all care to Linda, from me or others, must be seen as ministry and that her dignity, comfort, and self-worth must never be compromised. That philosophy has been carefully maintained as she has traveled through the Early-stage, Middle-stage, and is now in the Late-stage of Alzheimer’s. It would take a book to detail all that she has suffered; however, two specific areas provide a glimpse into the larger arena of what she has experienced and the comfort which she has received:

• Hallucinations — Shortly after Linda’s first break with reality in October 2016, she began talking to imaginary persons. It was impossible to determine if she was hearing them or also seeing them because her ability to share that information was impaired. Either way, the certainty for her was undeniable: They were a significant part of her reality. My family, her caregivers, and I developed a unified response. We never tried to convince her the persons, or conversations, were not real, and we never sent a message that made her feel odd or degraded. Some of them, at least in her mind, were with family members or friends, and she seemed to thoroughly enjoy talking to them. Occasionally, when the conversations frightened her or instructions were given that could cause her harm, we attempted to intervene and redirect the conversation in a pleasant direction. Hallucinations of this nature are a result of the neurological damage caused by Alzheimer’s. Therefore, she responded positively to medication, and as her Primary Care Provider adjusted the dosage, these behaviors waned. In the past couple of years, they have become virtually nonexistent.  

• Self-soothing Behaviors — Unlike hallucinations, self- soothing behaviors are not related to neurological damage. They can best be understood as an external attempt to soothe internal turmoil. For Linda, the most prominent of these behaviors is cleaning tables, folding napkins, and caring for her baby dolls. The symbolism is easy to see: She is attempting to regain control over a world that she has lost. Pacing the halls, rubbing the arms of her chair, rubbing her own arms and face, or frantically scratching her head is more difficult to understand. She is obviously feeling emotional stress, fear, or physical pain. At best, I, or anyone else, can only guess what she is experiencing. When she is pacing, I join her and attempt to engage in conversation. When she is rubbing the arms of her chair or rubbing her own arms and face, unless she is danger of hurting herself, I usually just sit quietly beside her and make no effort to stop her. Frantically scratching her head is different. Attempting to redirect her focus, I usually touch her neck or head and speak softly to her. My reward is the beautiful smile I often receive!