Who
am I?
By
Brian McNaughton, New Zealand
A
word of introduction
I
have been spending the odd moment putting down some of
my thoughts and experiences, mainly as a brain exercise
for myself. I have multiple infarct dementia, diagnosed
18 months ago. Four years ago I had to stop practising
as a pharmacist. I live with Jean, my wife and Kate our
youngest daughter in a small country town at the very
south of the South Island of New Zealand. We are very
content with our lot.
While
at the Alzheimer's Disease International conference in
Christchurch last year I raised a question that had been
in my mind. "Is the person I feel I am the same
as the person I know I am?"
It
was the end of the last session and the group thought
the question worth exploring and so I have been doing
just that over these last three months.
Usually
I deal with profound statements in a flippant and humorous
way and I was endeavouring to treat this subject thusly.
Yet try as I often did the ideas did not crystallise
nor the words come. A Christmas church service was a
catalyst for my thoughts which led me to a much more
serious approach to this question.
At
first I was disappointed that my usual light side did
not prevail. But on reflection I am happy at the style
and content. These are not really my words. They come
from a much deeper source. The words speak to me and
settle the question of who I am.
It
is so easy to get lost in yourself and your understanding
of yourself, just as it is easy to get lost in crowds,
in social situations and out if the open spaces. This
essay has helped me root myself in the ground I should
be standing on. My hope is that it may help others in
their quest for their place.
(See
Brian's other pieces, The
Weather Forecast, 'T'was
only the song of a bird and A
Poem from the Night.)
Who
am I?
The
sun shines down, the colours of the garden caress with
their softness while at the same time occasionally abrade
the senses with the projection of bright orange or vibrant
purple. God is in His heaven and all is right with the
world. And indeed all is right with the world, surely
we would all expect that at this coming season of Christmas,
the time for gathering and loving, the time for forgiving
and accepting.
And
yet as I look inward and examine my essence, my very
being and ask myself if I am still the person I thought
I was, I pause hesitantly, somehow afraid to face the
realities of being a person with dementia, a person with
cancer and a person with a genetic heart condition that
has abruptly shortened the lives of nearly all the male
line of this family for many generations.
The
cancer is in remission yet it constantly reminds me of
my mortality. So too does the genetic heart disease while
at the same time this generates a thanksgiving for having
already lived a longer life that most of my forebears.
The
dementia is a mixed blessing and I am using that word
very carefully. True, there are times of absolute frustration
when the forgetfulness makes simple daily living into
an almost insurmountable challenge. There are also times
of great peace and tranquillity. The recall of the struggles
of a few moments ago fade, the window through which tomorrow
climbs is not yet open. There is just the present. For
me, surrounded by the love of my wife and daughter, the
beauty of the garden and the uninhibited devotion of
our dogs, this is paradise. And in this paradise I can
see God in the gifts set before me. I can see Me as I
know myself truly to be.
In
a posting on our Dementia Advocacy and Support Network
International site recently, Doreen, also with dementia,
wrote these words:
"In
fact, I thank God for trusting me enough to give me
such a wonderful opportunity for spiritual growth as
I know very well there is no such thing as a bad thing.
Events happen and it is completely our choice whether
to make ourselves miserable or happy by whether we
chose to view events as bad or good. For example, if
there is a rock in our path, the rock is neither bad
or good. What makes the situation bad or good is whether
we stumble over the rock or use it as a stepping stone."
My
comprehension of myself and my personality received an
awakening this morning. Jean and I were at Mass on this
4th Sunday of Advent. Father Gerard raised a new concept
for me in understanding the Christmas narrative. He suggested
that God came into this world disguised as the baby in
the manger. To recognise the person of Christ in that
baby demanded an act of faith. What those wise men saw
was a baby. What they recognised was so much more. So
also with the bread and wine of the Eucharist. To the
believer these elements of bread and wine are really
another disguise of Christ. Again faith is needed to
discover the true Person of God in the common place of
the food of the sacrament.
This
image of disguise in relation to our experiences of the
Almighty was new to me.
Yet
it gave me much encouragement. I did not need a perfect
or complete revelation to be able to appreciate the completeness
of He who was being revealed. All I needed was to believe
that which my mind or eyes did not see but yet my heart
knew to be true.
I
am often tempted to feel much less of a person than I
hope and try to believe I am. After all, I am much slower
in my thinking, my recall needs a lot of prompting, and
others are slowly sharing responsibilities that were
proudly my domain. Perhaps I project a disguise of some
sort covering my true self. The detailed professional
knowledge I once was so proud to own and which spoke
of who I was is also now but a veneer. Another disguise
maybe?
Some
years ago I had the privilege of conducting a funeral
service for an elderly man. I had not known him. The
impressions I gained from talking to family suggested
a very hard man, a man who kept himself apart and who
was not easily accepted by others. Some might denote
him an "unlovely" man. As I prepared a eulogy
for him my mind focused on a wooden bowl we had. The
patterns and colours were breathtaking, made all the
more beautiful by the care of another old man, Bernard,
who had turned this bowl. Its origin was the ugly burl
of a walnut tree. Rough, disorganised, twisted and unbeautiful.
Yet underneath and in the hands of a craftsman...?
I
shared this picture at the service and was very humbled
with the reactions of the few family and friends who
were present. They had all seen and know the ugly exterior.
Now they started to understand the beauty within and
seek for it.
Can
I answer this repeating question in my mind? Is the person
I feel I am the same as the person I know I am? I believe
I can.
Doreen
has directed me to the spiritual opportunities this dementing
illness has opened.
Father
Gerard has shown me to look past the disguises this condition
sometimes cloaks us in to see the hand of God.
Revealing
the hidden beauty in an ugly deformed piece of wood allowed
a bereaved family to farewell a loved one with understanding
and thanks.
Now
it is over to me. If I can keep the Faith to see past
the obvious to the beauty therein, surely others will
see past my stumbling self to the true me.
Whatever
may happen, I will always remain the child of my Creator.
"And
God saw that it was good."
© Brian
McNaughton 2002
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