Dogs and Bananas | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Dogs and Bananas | Previous Challenge Entry
By Laurie Bahlke
08/04/21
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES

Nearly fourteen years ago, I led a group of women with advanced dementia to create stories based on a picture. The picture was not of anyone familiar but instead it was a picture of something funny, absurd, related to a time long ago; anything really that would result in this group of women who rarely talked and were often isolated because of their dementia, to share ideas and thoughts, to weave together a story that became common to them and more importantly, something that would result in the bond created through communication.

Many of the women in this group had long ago lost what would be considered coherent and effective communication. The dementia had slowly robbed them during their twilight years of the words, sentences and accurate memories that once kept them included in family narratives and outings. Families often find it difficult to navigate this time in a loved one’s life as memories, names, and personal details of a life lived become enveloped in a foggy world of confusion and disorientation. It would amaze me though, how often threads of their former lives and selves would show up in the stories they created together.

In September of 2007, the picture presented to a small group of four women, was a black and white photo of a young girl snuggled up to what looks like a large basset hound. She has her small hands wrapped around the dog as he stares at the camera with the look that dogs give when they know they are loved but would like a little more room to breathe; patient and adoring of the child that stands beside. After a few moments of silence, someone in the group whispers:
“Isn’t he cute?” A few more moments of silence and then, another woman adds in a loud boisterous voice, “That’s not me, is it?” There is laughter and the communication begins to scatter and seed.
“When I was a little girl, we had a dog and a cat,”
“It looks like he wants to hold onto his dog,”
“It looks like the dog I always wanted to take off with, but they wouldn’t let me.”
“I think they are going to stay around a little while until she grows up; a couple more years,”
“I would take that baby and the little girl and take off with them. Where I would go, I don’t know, probably Wisconsin,”
“Give that little doggie a banana,”
“The little girl is protecting the dog, that’s what they’re doing,”
“I’ll dream of that all night long tonight,”
“I don’t want to give this girl away. Can I keep it? I’ll take real good care of it.”
“I don’t know who this girl could be, but they say I could have you,” (woman number one is pointing to the girl in the picture and brings the photo to her chest).
“I’m trying to think,” (woman number two wipes her eyes with the back of her hand).
“I have a picture at home that looks just like this,” (woman number three smiles broadly).
“Little girl, you look like little doggies,” (woman number four nods her head several times). And just like that, the story has come to its natural end and silence once again falls upon the group.

It may sound confusing to some and hard to understand to others and yet to me, I feel every word and how it connects to each woman. There are threads and themes woven through unusual comments, vague descriptions and sometimes dizzy dialogue that remain tied to the heart and wish to be known. Feelings of longing, sadness, joy and affirmation of life’s journey are but a few, hiding in a network of neurons that are failing and shrinking away.

“Do not cast me away when I am old, do not forsake me when my strength is gone.” (Psalm 71:9 NIV). I return the following week with new pictures. The women are again isolated, in wheelchairs near bird cages, in their rooms sitting next to puzzles, in comfortable recliners with closed eyes. I gather them up for a chance to interact once again, when I am asked why I do this work, “Isn’t it frustrating when nothing in the story makes sense?” I do not recall my answer, but I hope I said, “it is well worth the time.” I hope I also mentioned that I am in favor of dogs having bananas.

PREVIOUS ENTRY | NEXT ENTRY
SUBMIT YOUR ENTRY FOR THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.

Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.