UNEXPECTED LAUGHS
UNEXPECTED LAUGHS
Once in a while we can take a break from the serious matters in these discussions of dementia and caretaking. There are humorous moments, generally unexpected, a key element of most humor.
As it turns out, there is much for caregivers to laugh about. At times the dementia patient (loved one) intends to be humorous and other times, likely not. And, of the latter, these laughable moments can be happy or sad. But we would not laugh at their expense if it is truly sad. Here are some examples that were laughable without feeling sad, with pseudonyms for those other than Beverly. Note that all of the humor from Beverly comes from her as a late middle stage to late stage Alzheimer’s patient in this facility. She generally seems to be very lost, yet these interactions highlight that she is more aware than is obvious. The first story, the most recent, she is clearly late stage.
February, 2022. In this picture, we are both laughing a little sarcastic joke by Beverly. The facility had a “kissing booth”’ for Valentine’s Day. I got Beverly in her wheelchair behind a display for the picture. I kneeled on one knee to be at her level for the picture. Others there said, “He is on his knees.” So I turned to her and said, “Will you marry me.” She quickly replied, “OH LORD” very loudly with full dramatic intonation. Everyone in the room laughed, including me. And she really enjoyed this moment.
2018. Beverly successfully climbed over a fence to escape from the facility, as previously described (Incarceration and Escape blog). One of her best friends talked to her after that and asked “Why did you escape?” She told her friend, “These people are driving me crazy.” One could presume that she meant the other residents, but it could well have been the staff as well. In any case, it seemed like a valid reason to escape, stated humorously.
2019, Winter. We were at lunch and one staff member sitting with us was complaining about his wife, as he often did. I finally said, hoping to end that topic: “You know, women are just complicated.” After a pause, Beverly said, in a loud voice, “EASILY.” That did end the topic. And it seems, if my memory is right, the topic was subsequently not raised again.
The “easily” comment, it seems to fit a pattern I have seen on may other occasions. Beverly (or another dementia patient) attends to and understands much more than is apparent. While she struggled with entering the conversation, especially by a longer verbalization, one word or phrase will pop out that is perfectly appropriate to the ongoing conversation and is strikingly funny.
2019, Spring. We went out for dinner with other couples. I was leaving immediately for a meeting and one couple offered to take Beverly back to the facility. She took the guy’s arm and his wife was on the other side holding hands. He immediately said, “I’m a chick magnet.” And Beverly quickly answered, “No, you’re a maggot.”
2019, Fall. Again Beverly manages to say something very appropriate to the circumstances that is also very funny. We stopped at the nurse’s station one day to congratulate one of the nurses who was getting married. In the conversation the nurse said, “This is my second time.” I said, “Yes, Beverly & I are so slow we have only done this once.” That brought some laughter. And the nurse replied, “Well if you get it right the first time!” Beverly immediately scrunched up her face in a very sad look and said forlornly, with great emphasis and intonation: “POOR ME.” That was good for a huge laugh.
April, 2021. I was finally able to visit her in her room for short times. Today we sat together in her room. At one point, I said “You are my beautiful wife.” She said ”Yeah”. I said “And I am your ugly husband.” She said “Yeah” so I said “What?” and she laughed.
July, 2021. I had dropped off flowers for her on a day I could not see her, as there was no available appointment time for a visit. The flowers were taken to her room and put in a vase. The next day, when I visited, I saw the flowers and said, “Did you see the flowers I brought for you?” She said, “Yeah” in a flat tone. So I had to joke with her: “ I hope you don’t have some other man bringing you flowers.” She laughed a little, paused, turned her head toward me and said, “I’m not going to talk about that.” I laughed. That was such a humorous and coherent response that I puzzled about how it came to be. During the rest of my visit, there was not a single coherent utterance, only “word salad.” It was as if her longstanding quick wit took over for a moment.
There have been so many of these humorous remarks by her, even into these late stages of Alzheimer’s. But most were not written down and thus forgotten.
A few from others from residents that I did write down right after they happened:
I had eaten lunch many times with Joe and others, including his caregiver relative who was often there. I walked up to the table and immediately asked him: “How’s Joe today?” The answer was: “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him.” Joe was so far along with dementia that regular conversation was not usually very effective, so this seemed like an extraordinary snappy comment. Or was it a routine he knew from before that just popped into place automatically?
I repeatedly saw a new resident Jane walking the halls with a telephone up to her ear and talking on and on. It didn’t seem that she actually had another person on the line, which is often the case with people with dementia. They talk a lot on a phone, but there is no one there. I said, loudly enough to be overheard, “Look at Jane; she talks on the phone all the time.” This was heard by another dementia patient Sally, who said, “Can’t you tell. That is just a shoe.” And, of course, it was. The laugh was on me.
One of the regular residents (Paul) seemed always busy scheming about something. One evening Paul came past me and started to enter the room of Ted, a difficult resident, who could quickly be angry and assaultive. I said, “Don’t go in there as he gets angry and is dangerous.”After a long quiet pause, Paul began to drag a bench over across the front of the angry man’s door. I said, “What are you doing?” He said, “I am going in there and make him really mad, but then he won’t be able to catch me.” That meant it was more difficult for Ted in his wheelchair to get past the bench. It never happened; it seemed more of a humorous venture than a serious plan. What a scheme for entertainment; he seemed to think it would be quite humorous to stir everything up this way.
Another regular resident was in the hall (Tom), walking past me and carrying a bunch of sticks obviously brought in from outside as well as a handful of paper. When I asked what he was doing, the answer is that he will go to his room and have a nice warm fire. The same resident told me on another occasion that tonight he was going to get up on the roof of the building and then “They will pay attention to us.” This seemed to refer to the administrators, though that was only my interpretation. In neither case was there any deliberate carrying out of these ideas.
These show that some normal social functions continue to exist in spite of dementia. Indeed, it is striking, as will be discussed another time,. how sensitive they can be to normal social and emotional cues in spite of struggling with words and apparently even the ideas to be expressed. As to the schemer suggesting his escape after aggravating the other guy, the plan is a bit strange for a normal person, though not totally out of range. The fire builder is engaged in something odd, but he is perfectly capable of explaining his intent to have some fun. I give them credit for trying to have fun, even being humorous, based on what seemed to be their happiness in the moment. There was definite enjoyment in these situations.