Moderate Stage Alzheimer’s and Magic Mushroom Self-Care - A Mindful Approach to Dementia & Psychedelics

After a pleasant first month staying at assisted living in Mexico, Henry decides to stay one additional month. He is happy to continue his daily swims outdoors in the nice weather of San Miguel. Meanwhile, I fly back to Vermont where the cold and rain continue, an unusually cold, wet spring.

It is midnight, I get a call from Henry. Waking up to hear him trying to tell me what is happening is terribly heartbreaking. He cannot make sense. He is scared. He describes seeing someone in a car (Why would he be near a car?). A woman in the front seat, she had a heart attack (How could he witness this? Is this even possible?). He went to one of the staff’s houses. (Impossible, he cannot leave the grounds of the assisted living area.) He does not know where his books are so he searched in everyone’s rooms. (OMG he went into other people’s rooms?). He says he is on a patio, he is in the parking lot, that I am in that car in the back seat, he is in another building (Is this what happens when people with Alzheimer’s do not know where they are? As if he is getting interrupted when he is in this state of confusion?). Then he explains that I am having a heart attack. Am I okay? he asks.

This has never happened before. All I know is that I need to try to calm him down. To help him feel safe.

Where are you?

He could not describe where he was.

Is there someone else with you?

He is not sure.

Are you in a room?

Yes.

Are you alone?

No.

Can I speak to the person who is there?

Sure.

The caregiver on night duty explains he is confused. She is not sure what he is saying either.

I get back on the phone to try to get him to go back to his room. He does.

In the morning he calls.

He is in his neighbor’s room. Henry and this 50-something-year-old gentleman have become buddies. Henry feels he looks after him. But between the two of them things can get even more confusing. Like the Three Stooges with the proverbial, Who’s on first?

Henry is sorting out his neighbor’s clothes in the hamper. He was shaken up from last night. He is happy to hear my voice.

I ask him to push the buzzer. There is a buzzer in every room and a caregiver comes within one minute. She arrives. Henry talks to her. I ask to speak to her.

He is confused, she tells me. I recount the confusion of the night before. He is still confused.

She reassures me by saying that they are aware of what is happening. They are taking care of it. The team is aware of what is happening. It is still before breakfast in Mexico, where Henry has been staying for a little over a month now in assisted living.

Don’t worry, she reassures me. We will take good care of Henry.

I assume there will be a flurry of WhatsApp messages and a phone call later this morning. I do know that he is being well taken care of. I am the one left with questions and a jolting sense of heartbreak, despair, sadness, loneliness, and grief.

I actually had been planning a day of total relaxation and self-care for about two weeks now, zeroing in on today. I decided to have mini-retreat Me Day like I wrote about in a previous blog.

An hour ago I ingested a higher dose than a microdose but a much lower dose than a high-dose journey. Sometimes when I hold a sacred day like this, I have a strong intention that is very clear. Then about an hour after ingesting, I go into my healing blue room, lie on the couch, put a blanket over me, use an eye mask, no music... just quietude, and go into a mini-journey. Sometimes I have very light hallucinations. I can definitely get beyond the default mode network; in other words, that controlling sense of “I” that is the thinking mind. Yes, my mind relaxes to such an extent that I can dip into that non-dual nature of reality.

After a certain point, information comes. At first, I used to try to capture the messages by having a notepad next to me or recording into my phone. Over time, I have learned that even these messages that I thought were great epiphanies fade away in importance as I delve deeper into the nature of reality. In that deeper place of being, words seem meaningless. The knowing arises. I dwell there long enough to feel that when I emerge, I bring with me a renewed sense of fullness, of wholeness, of softness, of non-grasping, of simply being. It feels very different than before I ingested. It is a state of complete ease while being connected to a greater sense of being myself and being more than myself. However difficult it is to describe in words, it is a feeling that can stay with me for many weeks. It is a way of being that feels completely grounded. It brings a greater sense of spaciousness of mind and expansiveness of heart. After touching that place of love and peace, I walk in the world differently. The love and peace are embodied in a refreshed way and pour into my intentions, my thoughts, my words, my actions.

Today I did not have such a strong intent. So I decided to ingest a dose that would bring me a more mini-retreat Me Day; namely, to settle into the rainy day, listen to East Forest and his beautiful mushroom music. I did not intend to go deep like described above. Just go gentle, feel renewed, and nourished. It has been a lot of travel, a lot of emotions, a lot of movement, a lot of planning, a lot of bills, tickets, repairs, doctor appointments, and other responsibilities.

The rain is actually soothing as I look out the window to the forests below. I think of my friend, Melany Kahn, mushroom forager, speaker, author of Mason Goes Mushrooming, and charismatic lover of all things fungi—her infectious passion spilling over to nourish my more recent entrance into this magical world. I visualize her, as she does most days, foraging in the woods; but especially during the spring rain when morels are at their most prolific. She will have more than enough for a sumptuous meal, a delicacy that even restaurants cannot easily find ways of providing.

Then the phone call. Then the WhatsApp messages. And now, knowing for the two hours or so when the mushrooms help me go the deepest—whether for R&R like today, or a deeper intent at other times—it will be interesting to see how things unfold.

I am actually on my computer. I started writing when Henry and I hung up. The words flow out of me. Perhaps that is the mushrooms helping me express, with greater clarity and focus, what is unfolding. Clarity and focus are two of the benefits commonly reported from microdosing. Microdosing among college seniors is popular because it helps get their thesis done, exams taken, assignments completed. Clarity and focus have helped my husband in early-stage Alzheimer’s. With microdosing, he started reading after he had stopped. He began writing again after he found it too difficult. I am not sure how much microdosing may help him now. Perhaps for sleeping?

Now he is definitely in the moderate stage of Alzheimer’s. It is no joke. The early stage is now behind us. That is the stage in which so many conversations were possible. I feel resolved that Henry was able to clearly communicate his wishes. I have met so many caregivers who have deep regrets because they did not know what their spouse or parent wanted, or they were not able to make the decisions they thought would have been best.

I have none of these regrets. I am grateful we had meaningful conversations that took months, even years, before clarity was reached. Mindfulness has played a big part. Rather than deny what was in front of us, we both accepted with open hearts that Henry had dementia. Although in the beginning we did not know it was Alzheimer’s, the symptoms of dementia were obvious.

This provided us with precious time. Each of us, in our own way, delved deep with our contemplative practices—Henry with kriya yoga, me more from a mindfulness perspective. Both of us facing what was in front of us with acceptance rather than denial. Equanimity rather than pushing away from truths. A calm-abiding that this is the journey—our journey separately and together. Mindful awareness that this is hard. Deep gratitude for whatever the journey brings.

These were our initial stepping stones. Now that we are entering a new phase, this path feels more firm. Yes, even in the midst of the Alzheimer’s journey and that of caregiving, these stepping stones remain foundational. Having deep faith and years of practice are part of the sustaining force moving forward. I also recognize the force, energy, and vitality of the mushrooms moving through me, into my thoughts, and out into this writing.

I know that when emotions are strong, magic mushrooms can amplify those feelings. Sometimes people are ready to look at those strong emotions, other times not. It may also depend on the set and setting. Today, as I curated the morning to be at home without disturbances, I am grateful that so far, the mushrooms have helped me share from a very intimate place of my being, what is happening in real time. The commotion of Henry’s situation has not rattled me as its potential may have done, to me or others in my position. Perhaps the mindfulness practices really show up at times like this. Acceptance. Equanimity. Calm Abiding. Mindful Awareness. GRATITUDE. Grounding forces of mindfulness, qualities of mindfulness, skills to cultivate mindfulness. Connecting to mindfulness. The unknown at this very moment and what is to come.

- Lauren Alderfer, PhD.