Treat it Like Improv

 I got a good piece of advice yesterday that really struck me.  I've been struggling when I go visit Jeff in the nursing home.  Conversation was such a huge part of our relationship the I'm not sure what to do with myself now that he can't really participate in those conversations.  Sometimes they are simply one sided.  I ramble on while he eats his breakfast with a faraway look.  Sometimes he participates in ways which make no sense whatsoever, like thinking there's a Papa Gino's in his nursing home or that his CNAs are his co-workers.  Occasionally, his true personality will break through the dementia, and he'll make a comment with clarity.  These last are becoming less and less frequent.

Our oldest son had a day off yesterday and went with me to visit Jeff.  On the way home, I thanked him for coming with me.  These daily visits take a lot out of me and I'm always grateful for company.  I lamented that I didn't seem to be very good at maintaining the one-sided monologue when I visit on my own.

"Mom," he said, "I treat it like improv."  He reminded me that in addition to years of summer theater, he had peer tutored drama in high school.  I had honestly forgotten this.  

"You don't have a script or notes," he continued, "You just have to go with the material you get. Treat it like a skit," he said.

I can't even tell you how much I love this advice.  It absolutely ties in with releasing your expectations and being in the moment.  Sometimes I get so caught up in my emotions during these visits that I utterly fail to be present.  Treat it like improv.  Don't think about what used to be.  Don't worry about what is to come.  Improv is the ultimate exercise in mindfulness because you don't know what's going to happen next.  You can't plan or prepare.  You can't obsess over what was.  And truly, you have to pay attention, or you'll miss what's happening.  You won't be able to keep up.

The more I think on this, the more I realize that this is good advice for life in general.  You have to work with the material you have.  Cheryl Strayed said "You don't have a right to the cards you think you should have been dealt.  You have an obligation to play the hell out of the ones you're holding."

As far as dementia goes, I looked at Tina Fey's 4 rules of improv (according to the internet). They are: 1) You must agree on the given set of circumstances.  Jeff has dementia.  No matter how much our family would like to wish otherwise, this is what is.  We need to agree on this set of circumstances.  2) Say, "Yes, and..."  Yes, this is a horrible disease AND we're going to carry on. We are losing him, and it is sad, but it isn't the end. 3) "Make statements. Have Confidence."  This is a great one for me to pay attention to.  When Jeff and I used to talk for hours, I was never guarded about what I said or how I said it.  Now I worry if he will understand what I'm saying. I am much more cautious about the things I say.  But maybe, I should just talk.  Even when I'm careful, he doesn't necessarily understand what I'm saying.  Thus is the nature of a degenerative brain disease.  Which leads us to Fey's rule number 4 which is "There are no mistakes."

 You can come up with a master plan but that doesn't mean it's going to sort itself out that way.  Sometimes the things we think are mistakes are actually blessings.  Often, wrong turns end us up in the right place anyway.  Aren't we all just making it up as we go?  Isn't it all just improv?