Beautiful Oblivion

I have several residents with dementia who believe that they are much better off than most of the other people living here. We call this being "pleasantly confused". I love these residents. I was walking by the living room when I saw one of the pleasantly confused gentlemen sitting by a lady in a reclined wheelchair; she appeared anxious and was repeating herself over and over again. He was holding her hand, whispering to her, and telling her that she was going to be okay. I put my hand on his shoulder and thanked him for being so kind to this lady. He gave me an understanding look and said, "I remember the days with my mother. I took care of her too."

When I first got into long term care, I worked mainly with residents in a memory care unit. I remember taking a few ladies to a concert at the theater where many residents from the healthcare center, assisted living, and independent living were in attendance. As we were waiting to leave our row once the concert was over, a lady from independent living passed by us with a walker. I'm not sure what her condition was, but she was extremely hunched over and her features seemed to have shrunken in a bit. One of my ladies, whose dementia was so severe that she couldn't remember where her room was, quietly whispered to herself, "That poor, poor woman. How lucky am I, how lucky am I."

Hence the name of this post.