A Day of Thanksgiving

Today was a very special day as we hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for our Memory Care Residents and their families. There were many smiles, a few tears and lots of good memories made. It gave us all a chance to see the love of family as each Resident hosted their family on this special day. Talk turned to memories of Thanksgiving past, children being small now grown, loved ones who are no longer here to share the day and more. 

Appetites were hearty as we all enjoyed the turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie and more. Residents who often struggle to sit and enjoy a whole meal were relaxed and smiling. Conversation flowed as freely as the food. No one seemed rushed or anxious. Family photos were taken and shared on cell phones. It was almost an odd sight to see the traditional dinner and the sight of the cell phones, but it made it possible for family members to join us from afar. 

It was my honor to read a poem I had written as we did our annual Candlelighting Ceremony in honor of all those living with dementia. There was such a stillness in the room as we all took a few moments to honor the living and remember those who are gone. I am so thankful to know and love these Residents and their families. I truly cherish the moments I get to spend with them. It was easy to thank our families for allowing us to share in their journey as we care for their loved ones. It truly was a day of thanks giving!

All is not lost...

So often I see people acting like someone with dementia is already gone. They will often no longer look them in the eyes, touch becomes less frequent, and conversation diminishes. Does this happen because the disease takes people away or because we no longer look at them in the same way any longer?

I love seeing a light come into someone's eyes when I can connect with her or him. I always get close so we can make eye contact. I usually touch the person, often holding their hand as we look deep into each other's eyes. I begin a conversation, hoping the person will join in. This may be with words, a smile, or a squeeze of my hand. It doesn't really matter to me how we connect...it's more important that we connect. I will often sing an old familiar song which often brings a soft voice singing with me. It may not be all the words, but the music is there. The person is still there. We just have to reach them.

It seems to me that we give up trying to connect. When Mom can't remember the grandchildren or that Dad died 5 years ago, we often begin to pull away. As we pull away we watch our loved one retreat deeper into their own world where they live in memories. That's why they often tell us that Aunt Esther and Uncle Ed stopped by today. We begin to think they surely must have lost their mind because Aunt Esther died 25 years ago and Uncle Ed passed 10 years ago. How can Mom possibly believe that she saw them...she has to be crazy, right?

But the pages of our memories often flutter as we relive times in our lives. Some days we may be remembering long ago. Other days it may be on a more recent page of memories. We can help them to enjoy these fleeting memories just by letting them open up and talk about Aunt Esther or Uncle Ed. You might even hear some wonderful families stories that you never knew. Don't worry if the facts aren't perfect. This is not a history class...this is about the feelings! And just remember...All is not lost, it's just temporarily forgotten to be remembered another day.

I Hope You Dance

Dave was younger than most of our other residents. He had been found wandering and very confused. After a brief hospital stay, he came to live with us.  Many of the staff were frightened by him because he could become very angry when upset. I think his anger came from his lack of control after being placed in a long term care facility for his own safety. He was a very active gentleman who liked to be in charge. He also had been a career Army man and was used to being in control of a situation. One of the first things I learned about Dave was that he was a gentleman. He knew how to show respect, but you had to earn it. He often used rather salty language, but I would just gently remind him that I was lady and I knew he didn't talk to ladies like that. I think that gentle reminder helped him to gain control of his emotions, and he would always apologize with sincerity.

Dave loved music and dancing. Almost every day after lunch, we would turn on the music and share a dance together. He was an excellent dancer, much better than I was with my two left feet. He never once complained as I stumbled through our dance. He smiled and would often sing along with the music. He stood taller as we were transported to another time with the music. I could see the man he used to be...the man he still was when dementia let him. Music was the only activity he ever seemed interested in. He shared his love of music and dancing with anyone who was willing to join him. I don't know whatever became of Dave after he left our facility; but Dave,
if you are out there somewhere...I hope you dance!

Rita's Daughter

Rita was a wonderful lady who had a twinkle in her eye and a zest for life. She was a tiny lady, barely 5 feet tall. You never saw her without a smile on her face. She loved music and would dance any time she could.

Rita was already living in our memory care neighborhood when I first began working there. Her face lit up when we first met. She was so excited to see me, and I soon discovered the reason. Rita began to introduce me as her daughter to everyone we met. As we would walk to activities, she would stop staff and say "have you met my daughter?" She was so proud to have her daughter visiting her. It was very obvious that she loved her daughter very much. Sometimes staff would ask if I was really her daughter. Rita was quick to tell them “yes, she’s my daughter.” Never once did I tell her that I was not her daughter. Why would I want to take that joy away from her?

I often wondered did I look like her daughter? Did I sound like her daughter? What was it about me that felt so familiar and comfortable to her? I know I certainly loved her like a daughter would. There was always a hug waiting for me, and she always asked about the family. What more could I ask for? Her daughter lived out of town, but her son and daughter-in-law visited daily. We became good friends as the years went by. I think they were happy that Rita had someone who loved her when they weren't able to be there.

As Rita declined in health from her dementia, I did finally have an opportunity to meet her daughter Cheryl. I shared happy stories of my time with Rita. I looked hard to see the similarities between Cheryl and I. I didn't think we looked alike, and our mannerisms were not similar in my eyes. But for whatever reason, Rita thought we were both her daughter. I know this was probably difficult for Cheryl. I took comfort in knowing that I filled that hole in the heart for Rita when her daughter could not be there. The love I felt from Rita was a gift that I will always treasure. I hope her family was able to take some comfort in knowing that I loved their mom and was proud to be her "daughter."

Jo and the Music

Jo was an accomplished artist and was the most elegant lady I had ever met. She was in the latter stages of dementia when I first met her. There was such a quiet grace about her that I longed to know more about her. She seldom spoke now, but her smile was so beautiful. Her brilliant blue eyes would look deeply into mine-almost as if she could see to the depths of my soul. Jo was always there when I began a group activity. She sat quietly as I asked my trivia questions or reminisced about days gone by. She would smile when I spoke directly to her, but she remained silent. One of my favorite things was sing-alongs with the residents. We sang the old songs that they remembered from church or school. When we forgot the words we would just hum until we remembered the words again. One evening we were singing "God Bless America" when I heard a wonderful soprano voice. I looked over to see Jo with a lovely smile singing along. She had perfect pitch and didn't miss a note. From that moment we never had a sing-along without singing "God Bless America."

Would you....

Would you be my side when I am frightened...
Would you hold my hand in the dark...
Would you comfort me with love....
Would you be patient when I try to get myself ready....
Would you help me sing my favorite song....
Would you watch my favorite show with me for the 100th time....
Would you answer my question even though I've already asked 10 times before....
Would you be kind....
Would you be my friend....
These are the things I did as for you as a child....
Won't you do the same for me as dementia robs me of who I used to be..

Enjoying the Moment!

Enjoying the Moment!

We have opportunities every day to make the ordinary extraordinary. This can happen when we take time to be "in the moment". Sometimes we get so wrapped up in work, worries, and more that we forget to enjoy life. We become overwhelmed by the responsibilities of being a caregiver...whether we are caring for our children or caring for a senior with dementia. We all know the tremendous amount of work and worry that goes in to both of those jobs.

What would happen if you let go of those reins you hold so tightly and just let loose for a while? Would the world come to an end? Some of the most fun I have had is looking at the world through the eyes of my grandchildren and the seniors I work with. They both look at things from a completely different perspective. Have you ever taken a walk with a four year old? You have to slow down to see the beautifully colored butterfly floating by, or that rock with the fascinating fossils, or the wondrous shapes hidden in the clouds! For the four year old, each one of these things is brand new and magical. My seniors are the same way...they find joy in the moment! I think they often looks at things as magical because they know it could be the last time they get to see or enjoy whatever it is. It may be something beautiful or it could be something as simple as the laughter of a child or a puppy visiting our building. It may be a visit from a family member they haven't seen for a long time.

Think about the wonder of bubbles glimmering in the summer breeze. It is something so simple,,,practically free, but the colors floating on the bubbles, the suspended breath as you wait to see if the bubble pops or if it goes higher until it is out of sight, seeing how large a bubble you can make before it pops, trying to catch it again on the bubble wand. The possibilities in those bubbles are endless...because you are enjoying the moment!

Think about the smell of cookies baking. They don't even have to be made from scratch anymore. You can buy them pre-made and just spread them on the cookie sheet and bake. Then as you open that oven, the wonderful aroma of warm cookies overwhelms you...your mouth starts to water...you can't wait to have that first bite while the cookies are still warm and soft. You are enjoying the moment!

Remember grandma's button box and how much you enjoyed looking at all those different buttons, imagining what kind of dress or shirt they might have been on. I always loved the feel of running my fingers through those buttons and the kind of musty smell of that old button box. Do grandma's even have button boxes any more? Well, they should because there is magic in those boxes!

These are just a few examples of enjoying the moment. Why don't you and your person with dementia take a little time to find your own moments to enjoy? See what wonders you will find and what memories will surface. You just might be surprised when you enjoy the moment. Let me know how it feels!

Chuck and the Car Lot

Chuck came to live with us after his family decided he could no longer live alone. His wife had passed away a few years ago. He had been lonely in his home, so he quickly made friends with other residents. He was tall and quite a gentleman. He soon noticed Kate. She was cute as a button with her hair in a bun and her dresses with all the pearl buttons. Kate reminded me of Aunt Bea from the Andy Griffith show. Chuck and Kate seemed to always be together...often holding hands as they walked. Chuck began talking about marrying Kate and getting a place of their own.

Our dining room overlooked our employee parking lot. Chuck often commented on the variety of cars in the lot. He thought I owned the car lot and must be selling a lot of cars. Nearly every day he would stop by to ask about buying one of the cars. He wanted to get a car so he and Kate could get married. Of course, they would need a car if they were going to move to their own place. I didn't have the heart to tell him that none of the cars were for sale, so I would tell him the sales manager was at lunch or had gone for the day. This answer always seemed to satisfy him, and he would go on about his day. He would stop at my desk the next day, and my answer would always be the same. He was able to walk away with his dream and his dignity intact. Chuck and Kate are both gone now, but I still smile every time I think about Chuck and the car lot.