By John Durante
“Did anybody tell you yet?” she breathlessly whispered in advance of her politically incorrect point. “I’ve taken up with a Mexican.” 
Coming even before a passive “hello” from my elderly Alzheimer aunt in a recent conversation, I was surprised — for a nanosecond. Then she launched into a lucid story about “Joseph”, a 22-year-old caregiver in her group residence who worked the night-shift. Ten years after starting widowhood-and for only the second time since FDR was President — my aunt reported she had a new beau.
Never mind that this is the same aunt who struggles to remember what day it is or simple bathroom hygiene sequences. Her failing cognitive memory be damned, she believed there was a new man in her life and now thought it time to tell the family. “I am surprised you aren’t more shocked” she said. “Well Aunt Mitzi”, I mumbled “you know me, I am very open-minded about these things.”
She then regaled me with a great description of Joseph (actually Jose), her new man (actually one of her many devoted caregivers). Her story about Jose was linear, lucid and featured distinct parts with a beginning, middle and end. That the facts were somewhere between muddled and fantasy was secondary. My memory-failing aunt was telling a compelling story.
She was doing this in spite of not accurately remembering her environment, what she had for lunch or even the events of the last 15 minutes. While her factual fog meant I had some due diligence to complete with Jose and his supervisors, she was reverting to the ageless familiar form of the story to communicate something important.
But what allowed her to communicate so effectively while suffering cognitive impairment? It was the familiar form of the story as communicative DNA in the complex interplay between language, brain and thought. My aunt’s brain disease often impairs her ability to accurately perceive something. But to communicate what she perceives (at least in story form), can and does effectively leap her cognitive roadblock. The brain as fact repository and syntax creator gave way to something seemingly more primal — how humans explain their connections to their external world in story form.
The emotive quality with which she “tattled” on Jose while worrying about the family’s acceptance of him ranged between wild, funny and poignant. But it also showcased that even with impaired cognition, the story form is effective. (Maybe that’s why drunks tell such good stories.) Even my dear aunt’s tattered facts could still be easily smoothed into self-affirming communication. Now: I wonder what Jose’s girlfriend thinks?
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John Durante is a senior marketing associate for WordWrite Communications.
