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In Their Hearts: Inspirational Alzheimer's Stories

by Mary Margaret Britton Yearwood

148 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1146; ISBN 1-55395-431-9; US$18.50, C$20.95, EUR15.50, £11.00

A chaplain's unique talents help her uncover the spirituality of persons with Alzheimer's.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book While other professionals were recording cognitive losses, I was discovering a gold mine of spirituality still intact in persons with Alzheimer's disease. I began to speak in public arenas about my experiences as a chaplain on the Special Care Alzheimer's unit where I found myself singing a theme song to match what I was witnessing every day. It went like this: "Though cognition is lost, spirituality remains. Whatever lives in your heart of hearts, your soul of souls, never goes away. Alzheimer's may steal your brain cells but it can't steal your soul. Who you are and what you beleive never leaves." I had finally found the wisdom I had been seeking to match my charismatic voice. Five years ago I arrived at The Special Care Alzheimer's Unit with my prejudices and my ignorance about the aging population. In the Hebrew Bible the word "ruah" means spirit, wind, and breath. It was the "ruah" of the Special Care Alzheimer's Unit that tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to dance with the residents that lived and died there. This is the record of my sacred time in and with the spirit, wind, and breath of an Alzheimer's unit in Atlanta from August 1997 to August 1999.

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About the Author Mary Margaret Britton Yearwood is a hospital chaplain who lives in Atlanta, Georgia.

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Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents

(All the names of Alzheimer's patients and their families have been changed. The names of the staff who work with Alzheimer's patients also have been changed.) Do You Know My Name? Do You Know Me?      "My name is Julia Norman, N-o-r-m-a-n. Ya' got that?" Those were the first words from the first person to greet me on my first day as the chaplain on the Alzheimer's Special Care Unit. Julia Norman didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she continued, "You're new around here." She spoke in a "take charge" tone of voice as she grabbed my hand. Apparently she had a right to all persons who crossed over into her territory. I had not offered my hand, but she took it nonetheless.      "Yes, ma'am," I finally muttered to the all-knowing Julia Norman, who was leading me to God-only-knew-where. I cleared my throat to muster some authority, for Julia spoke with years of being on top of things and I was not quite ready to submit to her will. This was not how I had planned to begin my chaplaincy and I would make that clear as soon as I could get into the conversation. I said in my most professional voice to the woman who had kidnapped my body via my hand, "I am Mary Margaret, the new chaplain around here."      Julia Norman patted my hand as she would a child. "Well, that's just fine, dear. I've always said, ŒWe need more good folks in this here world.' And you look like good folk to me."      I grimaced as I felt a layer of shyness blanket my being. But Julia Norman didn't seem to notice. She had more to say, which meant my quiet suited her just fine.      "Well, darling, come with me. My room is right down here as you can see and everyone likes to sit in that big room over there. My name is Julia Norman. N-o-r-m-a-n. You got that?"      "Uh, yes, ma'am, Julia Norman, N-o-r-m-a-n."      "Good girl! Let's sit on this here bench. I'm pooped. Whew."      I had no choice but to sit down too. Julia Norman, N-o-r-m-a-n, still had my hand and so I sat down and considered my limited options. I looked around the unit from my new locale and no one, neither resident nor worker, looked back at me. In many ways it was just Julia Norman and me alone on that bench in a strange new land.      "Do you know anything about the Normans?" my bench-mate continued. "We're right-smart hard-working people, you know. Been in these parts for some time. I was going to be a teacher a long time ago. But Mama was so sick. I had to stay home and take care of the other children. There were eleven us, you know, and I was the oldest girl. Mama would be feeling poorly and people would ask her to do things and she would say, 'Julia can do it.' And I did. 'Cause Mama always could rely on me."      "I bet she could."      For a moment I thought Julia Norman was going to fall asleep because she closed her eyes and became quiet for the first time since I had stepped off the elevator. But in no time she was up again walking me up and down the hall.      "My name's Julia Norman. N-o-r-m-a-n. Ya' got that?" she said yet again as if there would be test on it the next day.      "Yes, ma'am," I responded with ears that wanted to hear.      "You ever heard of the Normans? Mama always said we were a right-smart hard-working bunch. I do believe she was right. Now Billy - he's my son - he's a whippersnapper, that one. Lord, that boy is bright and he puts his whole heart into his work. I was going to be a teacher, ya' know. And I did teach for a year or two. But between taking care of my sisters and brothers and then I had my own family - well, I really didn't ever get to teach as much as I wanted. Oh boy, I did love teaching!"      I suppose at any other time I would have let Julia's repetitious words go in one ear and out the other. And I probably would have pointed to her dementia. But my supervisor, Woody Spackman, had just taught my colleagues and me that pastoral care to the elderly included a look at the worth of one's life. With my undergraduate degree in philosophy, I interpreted Woody's didactic to mean our aging population is asking questions such as: "Did I do anything that will make you remember me? Did I finish my mission here on this earth? My life didn't turn out the way I dreamed it and now it is coming to an end. How do I live and die with the knowledge that I didn't get to everything I wanted to accomplish?" And so I decided to interpret Julia Norman's repeated attempts to tell me about her life as more than dementia. I decided to pay attention to what she was repeating. She was repeating the importance of a good name in a good family vs. her individual desire to make her own name separate from her loved ones. The longer I remained on the Special Care Alzheimer's Unit, the more I was of the opinion that Julia Norman, N-o-r-m-a-n, and others like her were not exempt from spiritual needs. In particular, Julia Norman wanted me to know all that hard work she did for her sick "mama" had kept her from living the life she had dreamed. But as a Norman she had no other choice but to have lived the life she did.      "Do you know my name? Do you know me? Listen, chaplain, and I will tell you about my life in these stories I recite again and again. I worked hard and I loved hard but most of my dreams never came true. And now I am an old woman and I am trusting you not to push me away with your platitudes. Tell me. Tell me. Did my life have worth in your eyes and God's eyes, too?"      Before I left that first day on the unit, Julia Norman told me at least five more times how to spell her name. In between the spelling lessons she continued to tell me her life story so precious and so true.      "Do you know my name? Do you know me? Julia Norman. N-o-r-m-a-n."

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Catalogue Information

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