I’m not a psychologist, nor in the medical profession. I’m a sociologist who specialized in three topics – rural demography, Hutterites and Reservations (more specifically Dakota and Lakota). So mental health is not my specific area.
The other day, I met a man, younger than I, who is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. The meeting reminded me that a sociologist’s view of a serious mental health issue may not be the same as a psychologist’s view. From my perspective, going crazy in any way has to be done in your interactions with other people. Without the social aspect, it isn’t a problem.
He was enjoying life around him. He still drives, fishes, and retains the skills of a master carpenter . . . and his enjoyment of life brought back my father’s comments on dementia and on blindness.
Dad claimed that he dealt with dementia by revisiting his happy memories – that he had spent the morning with my mother in China. That he tried to live in the memories of Christmas treeing – that would have been back in the sixties – after he had retired from the Navy and we were all in Montana. That as his vision faded, the aging and weight gain of women he met disappeared, and the voices brought back a view at their most attractive. Maybe there is something to the idea that living in your happy memories minimizes the pains of dementia.
I’ve been reading of a woman, deep into dementia, who recovered much of her functioning after being given a massive dose of psilocybin – magic mushrooms. I don’t know how psychedelics can cure dementia – but if it comes to me, I’m willing to take an acid trip to bring me home.
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