If your loved-one’s dementia compels him to repeat statements or questions over and over again, you’re not alone. Unfortunately, all I can tell you is that you just have to listen. And then listen again and again – as if you’re hearing it for the first time.
Saying “You’ve already told me that!” doesn’t help.
You can try to redirect or change the subject, but for the most part, you just have to grin, bear it, and play along. It’s one of the rules in dementia-land.
It’s also one of the gifts.
My dad had a few stories he repeated. He told them in almost the exact same way every time; it was like listening to a recording.
His grandmother had 18 children. Only 12 of them survived to adulthood. Eleven of the twelve got married. Dad remembered the names of all those aunts and uncles, and to prove how good his memory was, he proceeded to recite them all.
Many days, I sat through this rather lengthy story two or three times in one hour. (I’m no saint. Notice I didn’t say I listened to the story every time!)
I tried to distract him and change the subject, but once he got started, there was no stopping him. For whatever reason, he needed to tell the story. The complete story. So I let him tell it – without interruption.
I learned to take a deep breath and put on my “Oh really? That’s fascinating” face until he was done.
Another of his oft-repeated stories involved listing the names and backstory of his entire high school graduating class which, mercifully, only comprised 17 people . . .
Deep breath. “Oh, really? That’s fascinating.”
But here’s the gift.
When my dad’s voice became so weak and unintelligible that no one else could understand him, I knew what he was saying. The rhythm and facial expressions that went with his stories were still there. Having heard them a hundred times already, I recognized enough to respond appropriately and to ask questions – even though I knew the answers.
A few days before Dad went on hospice, he was in the hospital, and I was sitting next to his bed talking with him. A nurse walked in and asked incredulously if I could actually understand what he was saying. I chuckled to myself, looked up at her and then began to tell her about Grandma’s 18 children . . .
As I told Dad’s story, his body relaxed and his face brightened with a smile. (He had a great smile!) If that isn’t a gift, I don’t know what is!
I like to think it gave my dad peace to know that his story – a story that had been so important to him – was being told . . . And, more importantly, that he had been heard and would not be forgotten.
I don’t know why his brain got stuck on certain, seemingly random memories/stories, but I thank God for the patience to listen to them over and over again and for the opportunity to repeat them when Dad couldn’t do it himself anymore.
Yes, the repetitive story syndrome will test your patience, but it’s a test worth enduring. It won’t last forever, and it may turn out to be one of the sweetest blessings of the journey.