Jay Leno, Dementia, and the Impermanence of Life
Jay Leno recently appeared on the In Depth with Graham Bensinger podcast, where he spoke about a range of topics, including caring for his wife, Mavis Leno, following her advanced dementia diagnosis.
Leno, who married Mavis in 1980, revealed his wife’s struggles.
“When you get married, you take a vow — will I live up to this? Or will I be like a sleazy guy, if something happens to my wife, I’m out banging the cashier at the mini-mart?”
“No, I didn’t. I enjoy the time with my wife. I go home, I cook dinner for her, watch TV, it’s OK. It’s basically what we did before, except now I have to feed her and do all the things. But I like it. I like taking care of her,” he continued.
Jay Leno described his wife as very independent.
Mavis dedicated her life to charity and preferred a life away from the spotlight. In 1997, Mavis led a campaign to stop gender apartheid in Taliban-ruled Afghanistan. Mavis successfully protested the construction of an oil pipeline through Afghanistan, which could have enriched the Taliban by billions.
Matters are drastically different now. Her advanced dementia diagnosis has caused her to be dependent on her husband.
“When you have to feed someone and change them, carry them to the bathroom, and do that kind of stuff every day, it’s a challenge,” Leno said, adding “It’s not that I enjoy doing it, but I guess I enjoy doing it.”
He cares deeply for his wife, but it has to be heartbreaking to witness the rapid decline of a loved one.
Leno said it’s important to find the humor in everyday things. He told Bensinger he uses flash cards to refresh Mavis’s memories.
“I’m told people with dementia forget the people they’re with. But, you know, I do pictures of the flashcards,” he said, pretending to place a card down.
“‘Remember? Remember?’ It’s kind of funny. I go, ‘Honey, that’s President Obama. Remember we had dinner?” His wife would look at the flash card and say, “Oh, not me,” causing him to say, “Yeah, yeah. Honey, it was you.”
“At some point in my life, I’m going to be called upon to defend myself, stand up, whatever it might be. I think that’s really what defines a marriage. That’s really what love is. That’s what you do. I’m glad I didn’t cut and run. I’m glad I didn’t run off with some woman half my age or any of that silly nonsense. I would rather be with her than doing something else.”
Reflecting on his marriage, he said, “I married the person that had the ideals I wish I had.”
Last year, the former late-night talk show host was granted conservatorship over his wife’s estate due to her dementia.
Caregiving is always challenging, particularly for patients whose cognitive or mental abilities are affected. The individual gradually loses a sense of self and eventually control of bodily functions. Eventually, there isn’t any display of affection or gratitude toward the care-giving loved one. The dual hardships for the care-giving comprise, first, the struggles of caregiving, and second, the pain of seeing a loved one rapidly decline.
Leno’s account is heartwarming.
Leno could have hired multiple professional caregivers to do the heavy lifting, but he prefers to take care of his beloved wife personally. He loves and respects his wife deeply, irrespective of her physical and mental state.
There are valuable lessons even in the saddest of situations.
Mavis’s condition is a stark reminder of the fragility and the temporary nature of life. Perhaps Leno himself feels he could have done one less comedy gig and instead spent the day with his wife when she was mentally sound. But that time will never return.
Leno isn’t at fault here.
We often make long-term plans, postpone activities we enjoy, postpone the pursuit of our dreams, and postpone meeting with our loved ones who have moved to another state, because of work or some short-term commitments.
“Someday when [fill in the blank] is achieved, I will be free to do [fill in the blank]” is what we assume, but the impediments keep piling up. We often are stuck deep in the trenches of our current assignment.
If we are lucky, that “someday” occurs. But we could also be too late.
Perhaps the beloved friends or relatives with whom we planned to meet have departed planet Earth, or are not physically or mentally suited for the activity.
Perhaps the people essential to accomplish the task moved on. Perhaps the sports star, rock star, or stage performer whom we intend to watch live decides to retire. Perhaps the establishment we intended to visit closes down.
Perhaps the physical endurance to accomplish the task has faded away.
The solution to this isn’t profound; it is obvious.
We live with the knowledge that all that we see around us — i.e., both the animate and inanimate — is temporary.
This doesn’t mean we live in perpetual fear of death, as Woody Allen did in some of his movies. It also doesn’t mean we empty our bank accounts in pursuit of a dream. We live striking a balance between the immediate and the distant future.
If we despise our job and have always wanted to do something else, we attempt to pursue our interest. Perhaps we are burdened by commitments and are unable to quit our full-time job. But we can always begin with small steps.
Perhaps one secretly aspired to a career in stand-up comedy. The beginning could be during an open-mic night after work or over the weekend. Perhaps social media are used to boost the act.
We evaluate friends and relatives, not for their momentary lapse of judgment or silly mistakes that may have caused pain, but rather what they mean in the long term. People who are sincerely seeking forgiveness deserve a second chance.
We avoid being upset about people who have treated us unfairly in the past. Anger and bitterness only cause self-harm and enable the tormentor to occupy precious moments of our lives. We seek meaningful distractions or seek help. We may learn that all of this was due to a misperception.
We initiate steps toward reconciliation with estranged friends or relatives we value. We do not allow trivial setbacks to depress us. If the movie is sold out on a Sunday night, you move on, knowing that it can be watched the next day.
We dedicate time to our loved ones and ensure quality time together. Perhaps a text message to a friend located far away about a fond childhood memory proves invaluable.
The only certainty in life is that all you are and all you have will fade away someday. We always remind ourselves about how valuable every moment on earth is, and we banish the instinct to postpone.
This is easier said than done. But one small step in the right direction can begin a long remedial journey, and it is never too late. It may sound like a cliché, but tomorrow truly is the first day of the rest of our lives.
We must not forget the present in pursuit of a grand future.
Image: Library of Congress Life via Flickr, public domain.