A Mindful Approach to Dementia & Psychedelics: Our Shared Journey Series - That Was That
We eagerly anticipate the arrival later that day of our daughter and her family for a week’s visit. We are a close-knit family despite the fact we lived on three different continents pre-COVID and during COVID. Our daughters were born in South America, spent their early childhood in Latin America, and their formative years growing up in India. We were what you call an ex-pat family, our two daughters being TCKs – Third Culture Kids… it is a culture unto itself. Just like being in San Miguel, or at least just a few minutes from town, is a familiar ex-pat lifestyle that we have lived for over 40 years. In fact, Henry and I met and married in Ecuador, where we continued to live for many years.
Surprisingly, post-COVID we find our primary home not just on the same continent, but our younger daughter just a ten-minute drive from our Vermont home and our elder daughter an 8-hour drive away in Toronto. Fun fact: Toronto is at the same latitude as our Vermont home!
I answered the phone expecting to hear that they had boarded the plane, but instead learned that one of our grandchildren had woken up with a fever, so the trip was cancelled. Concern was mixed with disappointment. Our other daughter and her family of five, including three young children, had visited just two weeks back. It was fun and, as most grandparents will say, it was also exhausting, especially for Henry. It was very meaningful to have a shared experience of living where we were with our daughter and son-in-law. It gives all of us a reference point of understanding. My daughter even took a tour with me of a possibility we were considering: the assisted living efficiency apartments conveniently located within the same community where we were renting, close to the pool and café.
It was explained to me that the concept was that if you lived in the community, as you aged you would always be able to stay in the community. As needs changed, they would be met through this privately run outfit, which sat at the middle of the community. You could easily access the thermal pools, gym, walking areas, weekly organic market, and especially the café.
The café serves as the default meeting place where people can have all their meals or stop by for coffee, or wood-fired pizza on a weekend evening, sometimes with neighbors coming with a guitar, electric piano, and great voices, and singing songs in both Spanish and English. There is even a community table so anyone who wants to join can always have company, but there is no pressure to do so. People visiting their loved ones in more advanced stages of dementia may bring their mothers for a meal during a weekly visit. I have also seen extended families coming from various points in the US, Canada, or as far away as Singapore — to visit a shared sibling, and I have seen other family gatherings to visit a mother/grandmother. Life and a deep sense of community are most profoundly exemplified at the café.
So in the middle of my Vermont daughter’s 10-day visit, she and I took a tour that Henry and I had taken a month prior. At that time the building we visited was still functioning as a hotel, but it was in the process of being completely converted to assisted living. This possible choice seemed perfectly adequate. It was essentially an efficiency apartment – a room with a small kitchen (outfitted with a small fridge, microwave, and 2 electric burners rather than a gas stove and oven) in an open-concept modest space that opened out to a porch and then had an adjoining bedroom. There was one fee if it were only Henry, and an additional fee if it were the two of us. With a few updates and interior design touches, the potential was comparable to a small condo by the beach. I could easily see myself making this move; being physically in the apartment brought into focus what might be the next step: more assistance for Henry. This, in turn, implied the ability for me to live with less vigilance and more freedom. I would be ready if Henry were ready.
That was in January before AGREEMENT #2 and all the decisions that unfolded. I think it is also interesting to note that in January and February, Henry was not microdosing. It is recommended that intervals, or breaks, are part of the microdosing process. I like to consider these as resting periods. It is an invitation for deeper reflection. Oftentimes the idea of reflecting back on the process is the focus of these breaks. However, I also like to emphasize that it is interesting to bring mindful awareness of how one feels during these resting times without microdosing, and then once starting up again, to bring beginner’s mind, non-judgmental observation, equanimity, and deep wisdom to what is observed after starting up again.
In Henry’s case, he began to microdose again in early March. By the second week, we both commented that he was reading more, writing more, and seemed overall to be more present. Looking back, it would help make sense that Henry articulated very specific wishes (as described in last week’s blog entry) with such a sense of clarity a week or so after he started another cycle of microdosing. I hold this time as one of the most precious. It was as if the deepest part of what resided in Henry’s heart came into being, became manifest in words, conversation, and shared understanding. A confirmation of the deepest truth revealed, a true sankalpa.
During my Vermont daughter’s visit, not only she but even our small grandchildren could take their father or grandfather’s hand and walk with him through the unique and well-appointed garden ponds to the thermal pools for a swim. My daughter and son-in-law saw the independence with which Henry could still live. They saw how the temperate climate was conducive for Henry as he spent hours on the patio meditating, reading, or just enjoying the afternoon as it seamlessly passed into early evening. Our daughter was able to witness her father, calm and peaceful.
Three days later, our grandchild was now well enough to travel, but not enough time to go all the way to San Miguel. Our Toronto daughter called. Could we meet them in Cancun? And so we did. In all these years, it was our first time at a family all-inclusive resort. Our two young grandchildren had a great time. I thought the noise and constant stimulation would be a lot for Henry (it was), but it turned out to be an opportunity for many intimate conversations, albeit short ones, and deep connections. Our Toronto daughter noticed that her dad could not be left on his own. There was much sweetness that grew out of that observation. One of the grandchildren would take their grandfather by the hand and walk him to one of the restaurants and hold his plate while he chose his food at the buffets. At other times, our granddaughter would walk hand in hand to get French fries at the pool café. Once, there was a two-hour chess game under the shade of a palapa on the beach – grandson vs. grandfather – while I had a leisurely breakfast with the rest of the family: a luxury for me!
Father and daughter had a long but short-distance (Henry’s walking increasingly compromised) beach walk along the azure Caribbean shore. Henry shared his plans about going to India and what lay ahead, as described in last week’s blog entry. It has been comforting to have the understanding and support of both our daughters around Henry’s MAID choice. Sharing in the journey and confronting moral dilemmas along the way has helped process individual understandings and brought strength to both Henry and me, and to the family as a whole.
I also had the chance to ask Henry about a future opportunity. A beautiful house where we were staying would be available for rent starting next year. The owners want to hold it for me if I were interested. I had been mentioning this opportunity, but after our daughter shared the beach conversation she had with her father, it occurred to me that I was being insensitive to Henry if I mentioned the house rental possibility in his presence. After all, I realized, he may not be here when the rental starts.
Even just thinking that thought sent a shock wave through my body. Then I reviewed the times I had mentioned this possibility with a sense of excitement. How had mentioning a possibility in the future landed with Henry?
With all the stimulation of noise, social interactions, new environment, activities all around and more, Henry’s capacity was not at its best. However, on a brief beach walk we took the following day, I took the opportunity to ask him this simple question: “Would you like me to stop mentioning the rental possibility starting in 2026?”
“I prefer you don’t talk about it. I may not be around,” he answered softly but without hesitation.
“Okay,” I answered as we continued to walk in silence, hand in hand down the white sand beach.
And that was that.
- Lauren Alderfer, PhD.
