Above Lynn Scott’s Forest Knolls desk she has
strung together a set of cards for inspiration. On each card is a portrait
of a notable female author. Some of the women are even older than herself,
Scott said. At age 76, Scott has just published her first book, A
Joyful Encounter: My Mother, My Alzheimer Clients, and Me.
It is a memoir, a series of vignettes from her experience
working with Alzheimer’s patients, and a story of how she finally
came to forgive her mother, and herself. Scott’s mother, Mebs,
died in 1979 of dementia. Neither Scott nor her siblings could bring
themselves to collect their mother’s ashes from the Florida nursing
home where she had finished her days. Scott had hoped, but had been
unable to save her mother from dying alone.
"There’s no healing for anyone unless we
forgive ourselves," the Forest Knolls resident said. She has finally
put her mother and her own guilt to rest with the publication of A
Joyful Encounter. "I want the book to get out; it’s saying
something crucial." Families of Alzheimer’s victims must learn
to not project their own fear, regret and anger onto those who suffer
from the disease. "It’s easy to abuse people who have hurt
us," Scott says. Though Alzheimer’s is irreversible, those
who suffer from it still have much wit and wisdom to share, as Scott’s
book makes clear.
A new life at 40
A self-described late-bloomer, it was only when she
moved to San Francisco in 1987 that Scott began to act on her childhood
dream of being a writer. Writing became a form of therapy. A product
herself of a troubled family, at 40, she had divorced her husband and
then struggled to form a new life for herself and her four children.
She moved to Boston and began working in group therapy, eventually earning
a Masters in Education from Harvard, and starting a practice in family,
group and individual counseling. Scott also contributed to the formation
of two women’s organizations.
Even when she moved to San Francisco to be closer
to her children, three of whom lived in the bay area, Scott continued
to help those in need. She was director, for six years, of the Children’s
Program at the Center for Attitudinal Healing in Sausalito, which offers
free group therapy for patients with terminal illness. She is herself
a cancer survivor. And in 1998, she met Marietta, a woman suffering
from Alzheimer’s who would provide Scott the key to understanding
her relationship with her own mother.
A ‘surrogate mother’
Marietta had been suffering from Alzheimer’s
for nearly a decade when Scott was hired as a caregiver in a San Francisco
home that Marietta no longer recognized as her own. They played tennis
together, went on long walks together, and discovered a shared love
for show tunes of the 1920s and 30s. Marietta sang the words effortlessly
and with obvious glee. At night, however, she often asked to be taken
home to live with her sister or expressed confusion about her situation.
Marietta always thanked Scott for her patient explanations.
Though they were nearly the same age, Scott began
to think of Marietta as a surrogate mother. It was "a second chance
to do it better." When Marietta’s condition worsened, she
was moved by her family to a special facility for Alzheimer’s patients.
Scott followed, and was hired as an activities leader. Her book tells
how she learned to respect and promote her clients’ continued stubborn
independence with patience, forgiveness and love. "Until our spirit
leaves our bodies, there is always hope for contact" she says.
Much of her desire to help others, she realizes now,
was a form of compensation for the love she felt she lacked from her
mother. There was also the strong example of Scott’s maternal grandparents,
Lutheran missionaries from Norway, who established an orphanage in Fort
Lee, NJ, "to save the children from poverty and drink." Scott
was told that "you’re here to give," and took it to heart.
Learning forgiveness
Scott’s mother, on the other hand, had rebelled
against this backdrop of temperance and humility. She landed in an unhappy
marriage, and later turned to drink for consolation. Like many children
of depression, Scott blamed herself for her mother’s condition.
"My mother and I, we really missed each other. There was never
any discussion." Scott was only able to overcome her differences
with her mother recently, long after her death, after learning about
forgiveness from her Alzheimer’s clients. "If you aren’t
willing to expose your vulnerability to another person, you can’t
heal."
Though her mother encouraged her to be more selfish,
Lynn Scott has lived to care for others. All four of her children haven
chosen careers in social work.
For more information about Scott’s book, she
invites readers to visit <www.lynnscottbooks.com>.
For more information on Alzheimer’s or to volunteer, <www.alz.org>.