An Alzheimer's prayer

March 25: "Partial Recall" was unsettled today.  No problems with the entertainment this time, a bunch of ladies from across the county performing songs and poems about getting old.  Their material was perfect for this audience and some of the writing quite clever - so sharply observed it made you wince more than chuckle.  But a number of the customers seemed agitated, their carers let them wander around and get in the way of the performers (who responded with good humour and considerable resourcefulness): one lady "sang" along at such a volume it made listening difficult: which in turn caused other customers to get restless, and so the mood spread across the whole cafe.

At the end, a carer handed me a handwritten copy of this:

Alzheimer's Prayer

Please grant my visitors tolerance for my confusion,
Forgiveness for my irrationality,
and the strength to walk with me
Into the mist of memory my world has become.
Please let them take my hand and stay awhile
Even though I seem unaware of their presence.
Help them to know how their strength and loving care
Will drift slowly into the days to come
Just when I need it most.
Keep their hearts free from sorrow for me
For my sorrow when it comes only lasts a moment –
then it’s gone.
And finally please let them know
how very much their visits mean,
How, even through this relentless mystery,
I can still feel the love.
Amen

He didn't know who'd written it; turns out no-one else does either.  Googling on a key phrase brings up hundreds of listings, always attributed to Anonymous.  It feels American in its inclusiveness - there's nothing to identify it as specifically Christian (some versions include a few "Dear Lord"s; this one is addressed to whatever entity might happen to be in the neighbourhood).  I restrict the Google search to "pages from the UK" and that narrows the hits down to single figures.  Thought so.

Actually, it isn't quite complete.  The full text, after "need it most" has 

"Let them know when I don’t recognize them that I will . . . I will."

I ponder this omission and wonder if my friend at the cafe felt unable to own that hope.  After all, at the severe end of Alzheimer's recognition goes, and doesn't come back: if the reference then is to a heavenly reunion (I won't recognize you in this life, but I will in the next) that may be a leap of faith too far for many.

What makes the piece interesting is its attempt to emphasize with the pwd, and pray through his or her experience:  It's not a prayer FOR those with dementia, but an imagined prayer BY a sufferer, as one might compose a prayer by one's dog.  No demented person would ever be able to offer it, because if they could they would not have the condition it proceeds to describe.  So how do you pray for dementia sufferers?  That they will be healed?  That they will not become aggressive or distressed?  That they will be able to end their days surrounded by the very best of care?  These are hopes, but prayer does not work like this. Prayer entrusts its subject to the love of God, asking that "all shall be well" despite the onslaughts of confusion and indignity. The sense in which it "works" (a dodgy idea, whoever said that prayer was a means to an end?) comes from the feeling that one has done all one humanly can; that what happens from here on is out of human hands.  And I suppose that to lose faith is to get the feeling that divine hands are just as clumsy and inept as ours; that nothing can be done, we are helpless, there's old age, dementia, death and curtains.

Lord, help our unbelief....