Alzheimer’s – Ideally A Journey of Love & Shedding A Shell - A Mindful Approach to Dementia & Psychedelics
Have you, like me, been listening to the extraordinary Telepathy Tapes podcast? Yesterday I listened to the Telepathy Tape Tracks Episode 6 on Alzheimer's and Dementia. In this episode Dan describes how he was able to telepathically communicate with his wife, who was at a stage of Alzheimer's where she was no longer speaking. Dan believes that his wife was coming from a larger dimension of consciousness. This larger dimension of consciousness is brought to light in each of the episodes, and it highlights the ability—or rather, the way non-speakers live from this level of consciousness. One we are just beginning to understand.
A big takeaway from listening to the first season of The Telepathy Tapes is to not look at people from a less-than perspective. Essentially, people are whole as they are—and if we can realize this is true for each and every person, there is a humbling of the mind and an opening of the heart. To understand this, especially as a caregiver to a spouse with Alzheimer’s, is crucial.
Dan’s experience with his wife and others with Alzheimer’s also speaks to the contemplation I shared in a previouse blog with the title How Do You Want To Die? A trusted mentor to me explained that people with Alzheimer's are already moving into another dimension. She said that by the time people with Alzheimer’s are no longer speaking, they are primarily living in that dimension even though their physical bodies may still be here.
Interestingly, rather than being in contradiction to my husband’s clear determination and advanced directive to exercise his right to medical aid in dying, it reaffirms that he will only be shedding a shell, as I will describe further on.
Another experience that sounds very similar is that of a high-dose psychedelic experience. In that space, when the thinking mind is quieted and the heart can open in greater fullness, there is an opportunity for every cell in the body and beyond to be filled with pulsating, unconditional, all-pervasive love. Even “love” is a word that confines what is being described.
But if you have known someone who has done a high dose of psychedelics that has touched this place of wholeness, they come out of it with a lived experience of greater wholeness, greater well-being, greater loving-kindness, greater self-love, and love for others. They walk in the world differently. They walk in the world with greater wholeness; they walk in the world with a greater sense of our humanity. Like me, I am very grateful that Henry has also been able to experience this at different times in his meditation practice. Years of contemplative practices such as mindfulness and meditation have graced us both with these experiences without psychedelics.
Perhaps that is why Henry longed for another dip in this ocean of bliss when he knew he was facing Alzheimer’s. Henry did have a beautiful experience with bufo, 5-MeO-DMT, during the early stage of Alzheimer’s. When done with pure intention and a safe set and setting, as in his case, Henry was able to touch a place of creation and all-encompassing oneness that invited his heart to be at peace. This has been an essential support in his journey of Alzheimer's. Because he walks in the world with this sense of not needing anything else—in essence, there was nothing greater than experiencing the oneness of creation that he describes. I personally believe that accessing psychedelics helps set the mind, body, and heart at ease in the early stage before moderate and later-stage Alzheimer's sets in. Henry is now in the moderate stage of Alzheimer's.
Henry supported the idea of sharing his journey—of offering his unfolding experience with the respectful and educated use of psychedelics as a key part. Now that we are even farther along in that journey, my attention is focusing more and more on the growing area of End-of-Life Psychedelic use. I inquired about this during a recent podcast with Heather Lee. Heather offers high dose psilocybin journeys for those facing end of life. She says it not only helps with existential anxiety and depression, which the research confirms, but in much of her inspiring work, especially with women, she recommends—if the set and setting are conducive—a high-dose journey upon receiving a diagnosis. As in her own case, when she was told she had breast cancer, a high-dose journey helped her reach deeper levels of understanding and ways to navigate her life moving forward.
As I suspected, end-of-life use of psychedelics inevitably points to people who have a terminal illness such as cancer. Their minds are still stable. When it comes to dementia, such as Alzheimer’s, I do not know about the use of a high dose of psychedelics beyond the early stage. What I do ponder is the fact that Henry stopped microdosing when he entered assisted living. He will start to microdose once we are reunited. I wonder if microdosing will help him. It has been a big support up until he stopped about six weeks ago.
Henry made the decision to stay in Mexico for one month as described in this blog. It went well. When I went down at the end of that first month, he decided to stay one more month. It has not gone well. In fact, I am in flight on the airplane editing at this very moment. We agreed to cut his time short and that it was important for him to be with me, his anchor. We plan to first go to Toronto to be with our daughter and her family before going to our home in Vermont. As hard as it might be, we know that it will be the last time to make the trip to Toronto. In addition, I do not want to have any regrets. I believe our usual family reunion, three months from now, may be too far away. There is a sense of urgency: a window of opportunity that is closing.
After leaving Henry in Mexico two weeks ago, Henry witnessed a gentleman with more advanced Alzheimer's go into a state of paranoia and violence. This other person needed to be restrained. He may have brushed up against Henry. Whatever happened triggered a series of events that activated a seed of fear in Henry. The next night Henry called me in Vermont. It was the middle of the night. He was completely confused. He did not know where he was. He was not in his room. Henry went on to explain that I was out in the parking lot where he was staying. He saw me in a car. I was having a heart attack. Henry told me there was no one else in the room. When I asked to speak to someone several minutes later, he did hand the phone to someone. I was able to speak to the caregiver. Henry was able to calm down, and the caregiver took him safely to his room while I remained on the line.
When he called me the next night in the middle of the night, once again, he could not tell me where he was. I know that he had been found wandering into different people's rooms. Several days later his notebooks and a book on the Indian saint, Babaji, were found in someone else's room. During the few days when Henry did not know where his notebook and books were, it caused great anxiety.
Then came a few physical ailments. As my primary care physician just explained to me, when a mind is already so destabilized, common health conditions like a headache, constipation, or an ankle sprain can destabilize the mind even more.
It is now a week later. Henry stayed in a state of confusion for most of that week. He is, at times, more coherent. I really thought that I had lost my husband. Maybe I have. I am not really sure.
There is so much deep sadness. There is so much deep loss in this journey of Alzheimer’s. These little deaths, or not so little, of letting go and of deep grief that just comes up again and again and again. This time it was at a deeper depth of grief and sadness.
Years of mindfulness practice, stabilizing the mind while continually opening the heart, help feel the real pain but with the ability to embrace it in a larger field of love. Mindfulness does not mean to turn away from or ignore what is being experienced, felt, or thought about. Instead, it is bringing awareness to the experience while at the same time continually cultivating a greater spaciousness of mind and expansiveness of heart.
What is interesting is that Henry is able to now talk about this event in retrospect. However, he is still not sure I am okay. This is an insight into the world of Alzheimer's for both a person experiencing it and the caregiver and their family. I am cutting the month short to be able to go down and get Henry as soon as possible because I think that, as well-intentioned and loving as the care is, I just want to have Henry be around me and our family. We all just want to pour and shower love love love around him.
I believe that Alzheimer's is a journey of love. And perhaps before Henry went into assisted living and during that first week, I became so aware of all the responsibilities. If I am being honest, the responsibilities oftentimes felt like burdens; or at the very least, I did not consider them gifts. But these last few weeks have completely turned that around to break open my heart. I am bursting with a fountain that wants to just shower out love.
I have been told by the person in charge of the assisted living and memory care that Henry now needs a higher level of care and monitoring. She warns not to romanticize a family gathering. He has had a significant decline.
I do believe Henry was in a place of such deep peace before he went into a temporary assisted living situation. As good-intentioned an assisted living situation can be, it is common for residents with Alzheimer's to witness and then experience the fear and anxiety of others. In Henry’s case, an event triggered fear and anxiety and confusion. Physical ailments made it worse. I pray his mental confusion, fear, and anxiety will abate. I hope they disappear once he is reunited with me and our close-knit family. Paramount in my mind is that early-stage Alzheimer's is the time to prepare the heart and mind to be at peace and then to try to protect that peace.
There are so many unknowns. We cannot predict what will unfold. We try to make the best decision at the time. Most importantly, there should be no regrets.
These mindful contemplations that break open my heart bring me back to that overall question of Henry's well-being. Can I help to create an environment where his heart will be back at peace? Can seeing me in person bring him back to knowing that I am safe so that he feels safe? If he reaches that place of peace that he did after his bufo experience, will he be able to dip into those places of greater consciousness?
Will he be able to access that deep settling of peace and well-being? When he has been in those meditative states of deep peace, we could feel it emanate out from him. It could be felt by those around him.
It is similar to sitting in a meditation hall where you know when people go into the deep, deep states of meditation, there is a peacefulness that can be embodied and felt and sensed upon entering a room such as that. Our Vermont home feels like such a meditation hall. People comment on how they sink into a deep relaxation upon entering. I hope our Vermont home can help Henry regulate and come to that deeper sense of peace again.
Then the larger question looms. When is the time for Henry to access his right to die? Listening to the Telepathy Tapes helps me understand that there is that greater consciousness that people with Alzheimer's may be living in. Similar to when I saw my father-in-law so at peace, speaking, as he said, to the angels during the weeks before his physical passing. Indeed, people step to another dimension, to the other side. Whatever you want to call it, I have seen Henry be in this place already.
I have come to believe that that greater space of well-being, of greater consciousness, is another dimension. Most people can only understand it through the thinking mind and body, which is just a sheath. When Henry is ready to shed that shell, his consciousness will be untouched. Having a physical shell or sheath becomes inconsequential. I hope and pray that in this next stage of our unfolding journey of psychedelics, mindfulness, and Alzheimer’s, this place of greater well-being can become Henry's ground of well-being.
- Lauren Alderfer, PhD.
