A front-page story in Monday's New York Times by Amy Harmon, "Circuitry with a Feel for Humanity," describes the calming and therapeutic effects of the robotic pet Paro on patients with dementia. As the patient strokes or talks to the furry baby-seal-like robot, it blinks and coos; handled roughly, it "yelps." The piece reports that some skeptical professionals have been convinced of the furry robot's benefits to patients. But the story also conveys the worries of social critics such as Sherry Turkel, an MIT psychologist, that family members find it "more tempting" to substitute a robot for a family member or friend.
Stop! This worry suggests that family members--specifically adult children with a demented parent--are neglectful. Families are very diverse, and the range of responses to parents with dementia is wide. But overall, adult children struggle mightily--often at great sacrifice-- to care for parents with dementia.
Over and over, as I have encountered different family stories, first in researching my book and now in my talks to caregivers their siblings and parents, I am struck with how much more complex the dynamics are than people realize. Why, for example, doesn't a brother call to check in on a father? The answer is unlikely to be that he just doesn't care. The reasons are rooted in decades of family history and relationships.
When parents have dementia, these complex dynamics are multiplied. Family members have to deal with what noted therapist Pauline Boss calls "ambiguous loss." Your mother is both here and not here, physically present but psychologically absent. Ambiguity, Boss says, is VERY hard for people, so they come down on one side or the other. Maybe a son decides his mother is still present: he can see a light in her eyes that tells him so. Maybe his sister has decided: Mom is gone; she checked out a long time ago. BOTH of these are legitimate responses. (as I discuss in the chapter of They're Your Parents, Too called: "Here and Not Here: The Dynamics of Dementia")
When people don't understand these dynamics, the family can experience conflict. A brother cannot understand his sister's pain at spending time with the mother who is "gone." Everyone in a family can feel a lot of unproductive and unrealistic guilt--that they cannot do enough for their parents, that they cannot make them happy, that they have terrible thoughts of wishing their parents would die so their suffering could end.
Never before have so many families had to deal with long-term dementia in someone they love. For both emotional and logistical reasons, they may not be able to spend as much time as other think they should. So, whatever helps the dementia patient should be used. I don't believe a robot will ever be seen as a "subsitute" for a caring relative, and I believe those who can spend time with their loved one will continue to do so. So let's be careful about suggesting that families might neglect loved ones with dementia.
Enough guilt!