My Prayer by Alzheimer’s Daughter

If I enter the darkness that enveloped the women in my family

before me, I ask that you would provide a good caregiver. I want

someone to care for me as a friend, and is empathetic to my plight.

I want someone who will get to know my life history and cherish

the time we spend together.

If I am lost to whom I am, I want my “friend” to tell me a story

about a little girl fondly called Buffer by her daddy, who always

cared deeply for the needs of her family. I’d like to hear about my favorite dog,

Pittman, and how devoted he was to me.

On some days, we may just live in the moment, and spend a happy

day accomplishing the menial chores that we must perform.

Grocery shopping could be an exercise in stimulating the senses,

starting by looking at the pretty pastries in the bakery, then feel the

firm tomatoes in the produce section and take in the lovely sights

of all the other garden varieties colorfully displayed. I’d want to

grind some coffee beans just for the rich scent that emanates from

the machine even though I don’t drink coffee. She’d let me push

my own buggy and be patient with me when something of interest

catches my eye. I could hold on to the buggy while bending down

to peer into the big glass doors covering the freezer sections allowing me

to exercise my limbs without the fear of falling.

When it was time to check out, I would help lift the items from the

buggy onto the conveyer belt, using my bent fingers in hopes of

relief from their constant ache.

My companion would protect me from the questioning eyes of

those who didn’t know what a special person I am. She would

lovingly put her arm around me and tell me how much she loved

me when I tried to go where I shouldn’t. She’d draw my attention

to something I couldn’t resist and I would follow her lead. We’d

move on toward the unknown together and I‘d be happy to be with

someone I could trust and who knew what to do.

The women who cared for my mother came and went. Some

would know just how to enter her world and go along with her as

they reached their daily goals of care. Others just did the

minimum of effort and sat quietly, lost in the crossword puzzle or

handheld device brought along to help pass the hours of sitting,

taking the term private duty sitter literally, as they added up their

weekly paycheck.

My dear grandmother never forgot who I was, even when she was

confined to her bed under the watchful eyes of three shifts of

women, round the clock for several years. We had spent so much

time together in her later years that the sound of my voice and the

touch of my hand on her arm brought back my name to her lips

that she was still able to say aloud. That’s the kind of care I want

to receive. From someone who will see me as I looked in the

photograph taken when I was a young, beautiful woman, full of

promise, fresh and unblemished. Not like the wrinkled, worn,

volatile creature that I now may appear to be.

I want someone who wants to be with me and thinks of things we

can do together that will cause us to laugh and smile. She will

show me, tell me, and sing with me. She will pray for me, include

me and hold my hand. She’ll read aloud short stories and bible

verses that may still be hidden in the depths of my brain. I want to

recognize something and sing that song buried beneath the noise

and confusion that predominates my consciousness.

She’ll look into my eyes and see what I see. Even if my words are

few or gone altogether, I’ll still be there, hoping for a friendly

voice, one that is full of love and compassion. She’ll give me time

to respond to her efforts and I’ll try to find my way to the surface.

She knows that I might be getting lost along the way, and it may

take me a while to begin to understand what is happening. She’ll

know that I do best when things are done consistently; her

sentences are short so I can comprehend and she’ll give me one

instruction at a time. I’ll want her to stay with me. She won’t

leave because I’m here and I’m often in a fog and can’t find my

way.

Please Lord, hear my prayer. If I begin to wander away from who

I was, please seek me out; rescue me back into the flock as you

have done before. Send a faithful servant in the form of a

caregiver to keep me safe until I am in your arms forever.

AMEN