Not long ago, I walked into the family room, where Dad was sitting in his wheelchair. I was a bit consumed in thought and was just passing through on my way to the kitchen. As I walked by Dad, he spoke a couple of sentences that I could not understand–a very common occurrence. I may have had a puzzled look on my face when I turned to him.
Clearly as I could have spoken the words myself, he said, “I just wanted something to say,” apparently, partly acknowledgment that his first words were thrown together and may not have made sense and that his simple, partly apology, and fundamentally a basic expression of a compelling need to make contact, to communicate.
Of course, at that point I stopped and talked with him for a while, gave him a hug and told him again that I was glad to see him.
There are many “over-learned” phrases and sentences that Dad is able to speak with perfect clarity. It is when he needs to create a new sentence to express new thought that he lapses into mumbling and incoherence. He often seems to have a clear idea in mind, but is unable to express it. Though most what he says is not decipherable, the inflections, tone, volume changes, all suggest the structure and characteristics of normal speech. Rather than remain silent, he says what he is able to.
The world of Alzheimer’s is a lonely one–the fear of losing connection to others is great and persistent. Frequent opportunities to communicate, whether by speech or touch, seem to be crucial to Dad’s well-being and good temperament.
Communication is a huge subject, and I will return to it many times here.