Once I was at a very small intimate lecture, not even that, but it consisted of very few people in a really tight setting. The discussion was about who's Patients are who's. It was at Massachusetts General Hospital. There could not have been 30 people there altogether.
The premise was that those trauma Patients were really the Patients of Psyche Doctors. They had data regarding how homeless persons were in many cases mentally disturbed and that after sunset they tended to find themselves in severe distress and vulnerable to conditions around their circumstances. Their statistics then were quite compelling.
Most of them ended up requiring mechanical ventilation, that is intubation and intensive care. It was an extraordinary session. They had these sessions every Wednesday in the Trauma ICU. I was privileged to be present for several of them. This of course was a good many years ago.
I learned a lot about ‘Sundowners’ back in those days.
Thank you for that personal glimpse - I have not been around people with Alzheimers or dementia ever, so have not witnessed it. And so far I seem to be sort of okay...
At the health facility where my father spent the last several years of his life following a stroke, the caregivers talked a lot about the “sundowning” phenomena in the residents, and I often got to witness it, since I spent a lot of time there when I visited, even getting to know a lot of other residents by name. It would usually consist of people suddenly and completely changing personality in the evening hours after supper. Old ladies who were normally sitting around like zombies all day in front of the TV would suddenly get very gregarious with each other, telling each other about where they were going out later that night, and what they’d be wearing and who was picking them up. They would spin the most fanciful yarns sometimes, it was fascinating. One time a lady got up and surprised the heck out of me, sitting down at the piano and spontaneously playing a lively piece to everyone’s delight. I never even knew she could play. The men could tend to become a lot more belligerent with one another. Not physically, but I heard my share of trash-talking among them. Then there was this one woman who would swear like a sailor, too...
My brother and I were spending a lot of hours there, trying to stimulate our dad’s brain to rewire itself, and it paid off, because he actually got transferred out of the Memory Care and into a regular room in the main section. First big clue was one evening after supper when he leaned over and asked me in a whisper, “Am I crazy?” I said, “no, Dad, you had a stroke. Why do you ask?” He replied, “Because I notice there are a lot of crazy people in this room!” A week later, he was in his new room and demanding books to read, mostly nonfiction, history, science. That first year was a very educational experience for me.
My husband had severe head trauma 20 years ago. He still sundowns the week around a full moon.