Happy Endings: The Miracle of Terminal Lucidity
“Lowly faithful, banish fear, Right onward drive unharmed; The port, well worth the cruise, is near, And every wave is charmed.”
Terminus, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1867)
[Emerson wrote this poem, named for the Roman God of Endings, age 63, already aware he was suffering from dementia. He embraced it, cheerfully continuing to teach at Harvard: “I’m a lecturer who has no idea what he’s lecturing about.”]
Both my parents died from dementia. In truth, they perished as my parent long before that.
When your loved one no longer recognizes you (or anyone else), is no longer able to relate to anyone in any way, it becomes challenging to convince yourself you still love each other.
Recently, there has been a plethora of medical and lay literature on the phenomenon of “Terminal Lucidity.” Reported anecdotally for centuries, patients with profound irreversible dementia, who haven’t spoken for months, even years, suddenly, inexplicably, speak as if they are back in their prime, nothing wrong with them whatsoever. It can last seconds, sometimes minutes, and has been repeatedly documented on videotape.
Invariably, those stunned to witness it, especially loved ones, assume it is a miraculous cure. It is not. Most commonly, death soon follows.
Physicians theorize it is attributable to disinhibition, but no one really knows. Researchers have attempted to monitor dementia patients to uncover more examples for further study, but have had little success.
Is it because the phenomenon is so rare?
Or, is it, without a loved one present during those precious seconds, they have no reason to speak?
Perhaps, “Terminal Lucidity” is not the exception, but the rule.
Perhaps, like a tree falling in the forest, without someone to hear them, they don’t make a sound.
Should we feel guilty that, 99% of the time, dementia patients are never surrounded by loved ones?
Rather, we should feel comforted that as their lives end, they reacquire wisdom. Whether in a Home, or in our home, even if alone, they realize they are being cared for, with all their needs provided for, reflecting our returning the love they had previously bestowed upon us.
As their lives ended, I now believe that my parents understood our enduring love for each other better than I did.
Years ago, I was run over by a cab. I refused the ambulance because I felt perfectly fine, doing push-ups, jumping jacks, and, more importantly, had a patient awaiting me in my office. Three hours later however, I felt… as if I had been run over by a cab.
Like the endorphin release that I experienced, people dying in traumatic accidents are rarely in pain.
If, because of disinhibition, endorphin, or more likely something we don’t yet understand, at our Terminus, all souls, with or without dementia, are blessed with insight, then God has truly gifted us all a happy ending.
That might not be a cure, but it is still a miracle.
