He was seated on the couch, waiting for the EMTs to arrive. He "dismissed" me, as is his habit. He never wants anyone to waste time on his behalf. But I stayed right there with him while we waited.
His wife and I gathered a few things and prepared to go to the Emergency Room and meet up with him. We decided to take two cars.
Once you're at the Emergency Room, time seems to stand still. Every little thing takes forever. I believe we arrived at about 4:30, and it wasn't until after 9:00 that he was situated in a room. The doctors were puzzled - knowing something was wrong but not sure just what. Once he was comfortable in bed, his wife and I left to get some dinner. LATE dinner, for sure! We split a meal at a Mexican restaurant. It was so good.
We got back to his room, and he was still awake. His wife planned to sleep on the little bed under the window. He looked at me and gestured as if to say "Where will you stay?" I laughed. I said "I'm not THAT good! I want to go home tonight!" He thought about it, then said "You have three more nights. You have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday." As if - it would be fine for me to give up Tuesday night to stay at the hospital. How amazing is THAT! But I said no, that I really had to go. He said "Oh, you have to feed the cows!"
I gave him a hug, gave her two hugs, and made my way home.
This evening I got a call from her. Today is Wednesday, and all of this stuff happened yesterday. She said he was still in the hospital, and that they would be putting in a pacemaker tomorrow. His heart beat was so irregular, and even stopped at times. Well, no wonder he's been weak and getting dizzy and falling!
What if? What if a caregiver had not been there? What if nobody asked him to stick out his tongue? What if he EMT crew hadn't come? What if nothing had been done?
Lesson for this day: If something seems out of the ordinary, pursue that thought! Get educated about what signs to look for. Ask questions. Observe. Test.
I am so thankful that a major incident was avoided.
Do you have a way to support yourself, as a family caregiver? You can work from home, like I do. Check out what I'm doing here. I'd love to meet you.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
My Last Day
I arrived at their house at the usual time, bearing baked chicken and a potato salad from the local deli. I was greeted warmly. She wanted to make me a sandwich, and have all of us eat lunch together. It was to be my last day with them.
He stood at the back sliding glass doors, looking out into the yard. We talked about lawns, and mowing, and I mentioned that we've got 1/3 of an acre, but I am afraid of the riding lawn mower. "Really?" he said, surprised. "My mother is 83 years old, and she mows her lawn with a riding lawn mower." This was highly unusual, because he has been oriented to the present pretty much every day in the past few months. "Well," I said, "I better get a little bolder, then, and try that, too!"
We had lunch, which was pleasant, and I started on some of the basic chores I do each time I'm there. Soon, he decided he needed to go outside, but he had difficulty verbalizing what he wanted to do. "I need to find some stuff to... put some stuff in.... I need to take that...." I said "I bet you're going to try to fill up the yard recycle bin again, aren't you?"
"YES!" (relief)
As always, I kept tabs on where he was outside, and watched him as I went from room to room. Just before 3, I saw that the wheel barrow was standing by the living room window, but there was no man. In fact, I said that to his wife. "There's a wheel barrow, but no man." She called and whistled from the front door and the back. No answer. I was getting ready to head out to check when a rapid doorbell ring started us. I opened the door to find a worried neighbor. "The man - your husband? He's fallen out here, and I can't help him."
We found him, seated under the overhang beside the house, straddling and holding onto a post. He was trying with all his strength to get himself to stand. The neighbor stood by, concerned but baffled as to how this was going to work. I coached him to scoot his bottom back about a foot to give us a little working room, then had the neighbor plant her foot in front of his right foot, to keep it from sliding as I would help him to stand. One, two, three, up. He was more weak and shaky than I've ever seen. I had him hang onto the post for a while and get his "sea legs". He stood in a weird position, which was also concerning. We made our way into the mudroom and I helped him sit on the shower chair stored there. "Do me a favor." I said. "Stick your tongue out at me." He did, and that tongue pointed completely to the right, rather than being centered. To his wife I said "This isn't just a simple fall, please call his doctor." The doctor asked that 911 be called immediately.
She had brought a set of sweat clothes, and was, herself, planning to help him into them. He's very "private" was the reasoning. Yes, and she is walking with the assistance of a cane. So - no. I told him "I'm going to help you change your clothes now. I'll use your walker to help you stay steady while we get those muddy pants off." He looked at me, with a puzzled and maybe a little embarrassed look. "I do this every day." I said. That was sufficient, and the job was quickly done.
Once we arrived at the hospital, the long part of the day started. I'll tell you about that on the next post, because this is already too long and you're getting bored. Just know that my day didn't end until after 10:30 PM.
He stood at the back sliding glass doors, looking out into the yard. We talked about lawns, and mowing, and I mentioned that we've got 1/3 of an acre, but I am afraid of the riding lawn mower. "Really?" he said, surprised. "My mother is 83 years old, and she mows her lawn with a riding lawn mower." This was highly unusual, because he has been oriented to the present pretty much every day in the past few months. "Well," I said, "I better get a little bolder, then, and try that, too!"
We had lunch, which was pleasant, and I started on some of the basic chores I do each time I'm there. Soon, he decided he needed to go outside, but he had difficulty verbalizing what he wanted to do. "I need to find some stuff to... put some stuff in.... I need to take that...." I said "I bet you're going to try to fill up the yard recycle bin again, aren't you?"
"YES!" (relief)
As always, I kept tabs on where he was outside, and watched him as I went from room to room. Just before 3, I saw that the wheel barrow was standing by the living room window, but there was no man. In fact, I said that to his wife. "There's a wheel barrow, but no man." She called and whistled from the front door and the back. No answer. I was getting ready to head out to check when a rapid doorbell ring started us. I opened the door to find a worried neighbor. "The man - your husband? He's fallen out here, and I can't help him."
We found him, seated under the overhang beside the house, straddling and holding onto a post. He was trying with all his strength to get himself to stand. The neighbor stood by, concerned but baffled as to how this was going to work. I coached him to scoot his bottom back about a foot to give us a little working room, then had the neighbor plant her foot in front of his right foot, to keep it from sliding as I would help him to stand. One, two, three, up. He was more weak and shaky than I've ever seen. I had him hang onto the post for a while and get his "sea legs". He stood in a weird position, which was also concerning. We made our way into the mudroom and I helped him sit on the shower chair stored there. "Do me a favor." I said. "Stick your tongue out at me." He did, and that tongue pointed completely to the right, rather than being centered. To his wife I said "This isn't just a simple fall, please call his doctor." The doctor asked that 911 be called immediately.
She had brought a set of sweat clothes, and was, herself, planning to help him into them. He's very "private" was the reasoning. Yes, and she is walking with the assistance of a cane. So - no. I told him "I'm going to help you change your clothes now. I'll use your walker to help you stay steady while we get those muddy pants off." He looked at me, with a puzzled and maybe a little embarrassed look. "I do this every day." I said. That was sufficient, and the job was quickly done.
Once we arrived at the hospital, the long part of the day started. I'll tell you about that on the next post, because this is already too long and you're getting bored. Just know that my day didn't end until after 10:30 PM.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
"Come on, Cindy!"
I brought them a small order of Fettuccini Alfredo from Panera Bread, for their lunch. It came with wonderful crusty French Bread.
Don was very quiet, and seemed distant, sitting in his chair in the family room. We called him several times to come in for lunch. I wondered if she had told him about my resignation. Finally, he walked into the dining room.
He knows, and remembers, that we are thinking of the day we can move from Sultan, closer to access to my business team. He's been thinking about this a lot. While Ella washed her hands, Don took me to the sliding glass door. He pointed to the neighbor's house below. "See that house? That's our neighbor. He isn't there very much. Sometimes he's gone for a week, then just comes back for one day. Sometimes he is there two days, mows his lawn, cleans up a little, and then he's gone for two weeks. Do you know what Ella and I think?"
"No...."
"Well.... we think maybe he can buy your house!"
I know this means that he thinks David and I can buy this neighbor's house.
"Ah, I get it! You just want cinnamon rolls and coffee every morning!" He smiles, and nods. His smile is huge. By now, Ella is back. I turned to her and explained that Don was plotting to have us buy the neighbor's house so he can have fresh cinnamon rolls every day.
"Let's go ask him", Don suggests. I can imagine what the thought of this means to Don. Someone he knows and trusts to keep him safe, living right there.
But it was time for lunch. I dished up the portions, after they sat down. Don promptly offered me his portion of the lunch. He always does this. He did get me to eat half of his French bread. Lunch was very enjoyable. We chatted about our weeks. I was surprised, at the end of lunch, when Ella immediately suggested that we go for a walk. I said "I guess we can take a walk before I get into my 'Cinderella' stuff " (She has me cleaning house far more than I caregive) He cheerfully reached for his shoes and said, "Come on, Cindy!"
He apologized for needing his cane today, but he really did need it. Still, we took a nice, long walk. As soon as we leave the house, he starts talking. He tells me everything about everyone in the neighborhood. Today, as most days, he occasionally lost a word he wanted to say. But mostly he did just fine, and gave me the insider info on everyone. "She goes to work at about four. Her husband comes home at six..." I love that. He wants all of the neighbors to wave and talk with him. He's highly offended if they ignore us. I know these outings are his freedom, and of course my heart hurts knowing there are only three more. With me. Can anyone else do this? My ego wants to think not.
He had an obsession with the recycle bin today. There was a newspaper he was sure I needed. "Don't take the..... the things. Don't take them out."
While I was cleaning, he went outside and completed his mission.
He came in, triumphant, holding two, a bit worse for the wear, newspapers. He had gone outside saying "I'll be back in a minute". He knew Ella didn't want him rummaging around in the recycle bin. We talked about the horror of the Oso mudslide. He is convinced I live near there, and must know someone involved.
Ella had tea brewed for us. I'd brought a cinnamon roll from Panera Bread, and Ella had me cut it into thirds. You must know, of course, that between all of this I vacuumed, mopped, dusted, did laundry, cleaned bathrooms, and stripped and re-made the bed! Anyway, we enjoyed tea and the roll and discussed the day. Afterward, I showed Ella how to search for caregivers online, at Care.com. This is very sad for me, but it really makes sense.
The day ended, as it always does, with hugs and admonitions to drive safely. We'll see you next week.
Don was very quiet, and seemed distant, sitting in his chair in the family room. We called him several times to come in for lunch. I wondered if she had told him about my resignation. Finally, he walked into the dining room.
He knows, and remembers, that we are thinking of the day we can move from Sultan, closer to access to my business team. He's been thinking about this a lot. While Ella washed her hands, Don took me to the sliding glass door. He pointed to the neighbor's house below. "See that house? That's our neighbor. He isn't there very much. Sometimes he's gone for a week, then just comes back for one day. Sometimes he is there two days, mows his lawn, cleans up a little, and then he's gone for two weeks. Do you know what Ella and I think?"
"No...."
"Well.... we think maybe he can buy your house!"
I know this means that he thinks David and I can buy this neighbor's house.
"Ah, I get it! You just want cinnamon rolls and coffee every morning!" He smiles, and nods. His smile is huge. By now, Ella is back. I turned to her and explained that Don was plotting to have us buy the neighbor's house so he can have fresh cinnamon rolls every day.
"Let's go ask him", Don suggests. I can imagine what the thought of this means to Don. Someone he knows and trusts to keep him safe, living right there.
But it was time for lunch. I dished up the portions, after they sat down. Don promptly offered me his portion of the lunch. He always does this. He did get me to eat half of his French bread. Lunch was very enjoyable. We chatted about our weeks. I was surprised, at the end of lunch, when Ella immediately suggested that we go for a walk. I said "I guess we can take a walk before I get into my 'Cinderella' stuff " (She has me cleaning house far more than I caregive) He cheerfully reached for his shoes and said, "Come on, Cindy!"
He apologized for needing his cane today, but he really did need it. Still, we took a nice, long walk. As soon as we leave the house, he starts talking. He tells me everything about everyone in the neighborhood. Today, as most days, he occasionally lost a word he wanted to say. But mostly he did just fine, and gave me the insider info on everyone. "She goes to work at about four. Her husband comes home at six..." I love that. He wants all of the neighbors to wave and talk with him. He's highly offended if they ignore us. I know these outings are his freedom, and of course my heart hurts knowing there are only three more. With me. Can anyone else do this? My ego wants to think not.
He had an obsession with the recycle bin today. There was a newspaper he was sure I needed. "Don't take the..... the things. Don't take them out."
While I was cleaning, he went outside and completed his mission.
He came in, triumphant, holding two, a bit worse for the wear, newspapers. He had gone outside saying "I'll be back in a minute". He knew Ella didn't want him rummaging around in the recycle bin. We talked about the horror of the Oso mudslide. He is convinced I live near there, and must know someone involved.
Ella had tea brewed for us. I'd brought a cinnamon roll from Panera Bread, and Ella had me cut it into thirds. You must know, of course, that between all of this I vacuumed, mopped, dusted, did laundry, cleaned bathrooms, and stripped and re-made the bed! Anyway, we enjoyed tea and the roll and discussed the day. Afterward, I showed Ella how to search for caregivers online, at Care.com. This is very sad for me, but it really makes sense.
The day ended, as it always does, with hugs and admonitions to drive safely. We'll see you next week.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
What do you say to an accusing senior?
Question: My mother who has dementia is accusing me of stealing her pills (which i'm not). What do I do? My mother has been progressively getting worse, and she has been accusing me of stealing her pills. I've already tried to tell her she's taken them, or sometimes she drops them. I don't know what to do, and I don't know how to convince her I'm not taking them. B
As we watch the older generation deteriorate into a daily pill organizer, we sometimes start to think about our own future. Will be take a "pill for every ill", or will we stay healthy and vibrant for as long as possible?
If you're concerned about your health, and want to secure a healthier future, please consider feeding every cell in your body what it is craving, while clearing out the junk. I'm here to help! Watch the short video here, and see if this is something you'd like to know more about.
My Answer:
Validation. Say -"You believe I've taken your pills." This, alone, may break the cycle in her mind. "I understand that you believe this. It looks like that's making you upset." I find that a firm touch, such as holding her hand or wrist, and looking directly into her eyes, helps this communication. "I'm sorry that you believe I have taken your pills. I know this is upsetting. This is hard, Mom. This is very hard." Then to direct her to something else like tea, or a walk, or something she enjoys, would be my next step. I really think that the validation - re-stating what they have said to show you understand - goes a long way. Unfortunately it is so much like reasoning with an 18 month old. But even THEY feel better when you clearly understand what they're trying to communicate. You think I took your pills, and you're mad!!! Try this one other thing that's worked for me with Dementia clients. "Mom, your doctor ordered me to keep these pills in a very safe place, and make sure you took the right ones at the right time. I am following your doctor's advice, you can be sure of that!" Older patients are such doctor followers. They seem to really respond to the "The doctor said" trick a LOT. I even use it with my reluctant walker. "Your doctor said you should walk every day...." and off we go.As we watch the older generation deteriorate into a daily pill organizer, we sometimes start to think about our own future. Will be take a "pill for every ill", or will we stay healthy and vibrant for as long as possible?
If you're concerned about your health, and want to secure a healthier future, please consider feeding every cell in your body what it is craving, while clearing out the junk. I'm here to help! Watch the short video here, and see if this is something you'd like to know more about.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Walking With Don
He likes to act like it's a chore, and a drudgery, to take those walks. His eyes say otherwise. He pulls on his baseball cap, and does his best to get into his jacket without help. I step in at the moment he begins to exhibit frustration.
We go the same route each day. With Dementia it's not so much about variety - it's about safety and familiarity. Some of what I do isn't due to training, but due to watching the results in my treasured charges. Don responds well when we start our walks by observing their yard. This helps me know where he is that day. Is he in the present, knowing he has lived in this house for 50 years, or is he confused and thinking this isn't his house? Knowing that helps me help him. I ask open ended questions. I assume nothing.
We walk to the left, down the hill. The road curves to the left at the bottom of the hill, about 3 houses down. We generally walk 2-3 blocks. Sometimes we encounter neighbors along the way, and Don always calls out to them, cheerfully. Today Rick was working in his yard, pulling up dead plants. Don began speaking to him, but Dementia had the upper hand today, and much of what he said was disconnected and made little sense. The neighbor ignored this, and made a great effort to understand.
Jim came out of his house to shake both our hands and have a conversation. He encouraged Don and told him "You're doing great". He didn't seem shaken when Don described "felling the trees" and bruising his hips. Don gestured around at the tall pines when he said this. I don't know if Jim had a clue as to what Don was telling him. It's been on Don's mind, lately, that he once fell under a tree and I helped him up. This happened in August.
Often, on our walks, Don is reminded of a story. He launches into it with great excitement. "Do you know where he was born?" he asks me, regarding the owner of one of the homes. Of course I don't, and shake my head. "Well, there are three."
"Three?"
"Next to each other. Three.... um..... next to each other."
"Countries?"
"YES!"
"They're near Russia. But I don't know."
"Ok - like Estonia?"
"Yes, that's one of the three."
Our conversations go like this much of the time. I search my memory banks to fill in his memory blanks. I just made that phrase up. It's clever, right?
Today I was really put to the test. He had LOTS of stories, all with huge blanks. I told his wife it was like reading a book with some words blacked out or pages missing. But he enjoys telling the stories, so much, that he just powers through.
When we started to approach the house, he was visibly tired. I helped him up the front steps, and he said "Thank you for taking me out there." I smiled. He paused, then said "And - thank you for bringing me back. That was even more important." We laughed.
There is a way to regenerate brain cells. Our friend, Michael Colgan, has devoted a great deal of time and money to create a product which will effectively regenerate the brain. If you're worried about memory loss, and want to build the health of your brain, you may wish to look into his product. I endorse it! Highly. Click any of the highlighted links to learn more.
We go the same route each day. With Dementia it's not so much about variety - it's about safety and familiarity. Some of what I do isn't due to training, but due to watching the results in my treasured charges. Don responds well when we start our walks by observing their yard. This helps me know where he is that day. Is he in the present, knowing he has lived in this house for 50 years, or is he confused and thinking this isn't his house? Knowing that helps me help him. I ask open ended questions. I assume nothing.
We walk to the left, down the hill. The road curves to the left at the bottom of the hill, about 3 houses down. We generally walk 2-3 blocks. Sometimes we encounter neighbors along the way, and Don always calls out to them, cheerfully. Today Rick was working in his yard, pulling up dead plants. Don began speaking to him, but Dementia had the upper hand today, and much of what he said was disconnected and made little sense. The neighbor ignored this, and made a great effort to understand.
Jim came out of his house to shake both our hands and have a conversation. He encouraged Don and told him "You're doing great". He didn't seem shaken when Don described "felling the trees" and bruising his hips. Don gestured around at the tall pines when he said this. I don't know if Jim had a clue as to what Don was telling him. It's been on Don's mind, lately, that he once fell under a tree and I helped him up. This happened in August.
Often, on our walks, Don is reminded of a story. He launches into it with great excitement. "Do you know where he was born?" he asks me, regarding the owner of one of the homes. Of course I don't, and shake my head. "Well, there are three."
"Three?"
"Next to each other. Three.... um..... next to each other."
"Countries?"
"YES!"
"They're near Russia. But I don't know."
"Ok - like Estonia?"
"Yes, that's one of the three."
Our conversations go like this much of the time. I search my memory banks to fill in his memory blanks. I just made that phrase up. It's clever, right?
Today I was really put to the test. He had LOTS of stories, all with huge blanks. I told his wife it was like reading a book with some words blacked out or pages missing. But he enjoys telling the stories, so much, that he just powers through.
When we started to approach the house, he was visibly tired. I helped him up the front steps, and he said "Thank you for taking me out there." I smiled. He paused, then said "And - thank you for bringing me back. That was even more important." We laughed.
There is a way to regenerate brain cells. Our friend, Michael Colgan, has devoted a great deal of time and money to create a product which will effectively regenerate the brain. If you're worried about memory loss, and want to build the health of your brain, you may wish to look into his product. I endorse it! Highly. Click any of the highlighted links to learn more.
Friday, February 21, 2014
"I have to go to bed"
It wasn't our normal day. It was raining far too hard for Don and I to engage in our favorite activities together; working in the yard and taking a walk through the neighborhood.
He looks forward to Tuesdays and Fridays, when I come to care for their home, and for them. Lately I've been bringing "treats" for lunch. It's true that the visits from his children bring joy, but my visits are regular and predictable. The activities have become both predictable and necessary to his emotional health.
When he saw it was just pouring relentlessly, I could see the understanding in his eyes, that this day would be different. He was worried about being "in my way", so he retreated quietly to the office and silently watched Ella work on taxes.
He used to do these things. As I said before, he's well aware of his new limitations, and it's a deep, grieving process. Imagine watching all you loved to do slipping away. You keep hearing "You can't do that" and "No - don't do that".
I met him in the hall on one of my trips back and forth. He looked so dejected. His head was low, and he said "I have to go to bed." I waited. He pointed to his head. "It's because my.... this. It's broken."
It's broken.
I just patted his arm. "I know, you feel that way. Go rest, if you feel like resting."
It reminded me of a song I heard when I was in training as a Caregiver for clients with Dementia and Alzheimer's. You can watch it on YouTube here. The song is called 'I'm Not Me Anymore'. It sums it up. Do I cry when I watch this? Oh, no, not me! *cough*
An hour later the sun was shining brightly and the sky had turned to blue. I rushed to their office and asked Ella if she could check to see if Don was actually sleeping. "I would like to take him out. I think he's depressed." I said. She decided, asleep or NOT, I was right, and she'd wake him up for the walk.
Lyrics to the song:
He looks forward to Tuesdays and Fridays, when I come to care for their home, and for them. Lately I've been bringing "treats" for lunch. It's true that the visits from his children bring joy, but my visits are regular and predictable. The activities have become both predictable and necessary to his emotional health.
When he saw it was just pouring relentlessly, I could see the understanding in his eyes, that this day would be different. He was worried about being "in my way", so he retreated quietly to the office and silently watched Ella work on taxes.
He used to do these things. As I said before, he's well aware of his new limitations, and it's a deep, grieving process. Imagine watching all you loved to do slipping away. You keep hearing "You can't do that" and "No - don't do that".
I met him in the hall on one of my trips back and forth. He looked so dejected. His head was low, and he said "I have to go to bed." I waited. He pointed to his head. "It's because my.... this. It's broken."
It's broken.
I just patted his arm. "I know, you feel that way. Go rest, if you feel like resting."
It reminded me of a song I heard when I was in training as a Caregiver for clients with Dementia and Alzheimer's. You can watch it on YouTube here. The song is called 'I'm Not Me Anymore'. It sums it up. Do I cry when I watch this? Oh, no, not me! *cough*
An hour later the sun was shining brightly and the sky had turned to blue. I rushed to their office and asked Ella if she could check to see if Don was actually sleeping. "I would like to take him out. I think he's depressed." I said. She decided, asleep or NOT, I was right, and she'd wake him up for the walk.
A confused-looking but happy man emerged from the bedroom and slowly made his way up the hall.
"Look what happened while you were sleeping!" I said. He decided it was because he took a nap that the sun came out.
He got ready as quickly as he could, and off we went on our walk. It was precious. As we were leaving, Ella asked "Do you want your cane?" and he replied, gesturing toward me, "She's my cane."
I'll tell you about our walk tomorrow. Meanwhile, consider that your family member with Dementia may be very aware that they're "broken". Find a routine in which they find joy, and faithfully keep that routine. It can be in short bursts of time - 20 minutes here and there. You won't say "remember" about any of this. You'll just do it again and again. Their hearts will remember, even if their minds forget. Think of it this way: you leave an impression on their heart that will be felt forever. That gentle impression warms when you re-appear. They may not know why seeing you makes them happy, but their heart will always remember. Dementia and Alzheimer's affects the brain. Love affects the heart.
Lyrics to the song:
I’m breaking // I can feel it inside // Something’s taking // over my mind // Causing page after page // of memories to fade // Into nothing
I’m losing // more of me everyday // It’s confusing // I feel lost and betrayed // As places and things // faces and names // Fade into nothing
I’m not me anymore // Not who I used to be, anymore // There’s a thief running loose in my head // A thief who won’t rest till I’m dead // Stealing my mind one cell at a time // Till I’m nothing
I hate this // I can’t run, I can’t fight // I can’t take this // I feel buried alive // I don’t know who I am // Just a shell of some man // Left with nothing
I’m not me anymore // Not who I used to be, anymore // There’s a thief running loose in my head // A thief who won’t rest till I’m dead // Stealing my mind one cell at a time // Till I’m nothing // Just nothing // Nothing
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
"An item"
Dementia has a lot of stages, and a lot of manifestations. So far, with Don, it's been very low key and predictable.
Friday I arrived to find Ella a little bit rattled. Seems Don was insisting on going out into the yard and working all alone, which is so unsafe for him. He also had taken a great risk and stepped over a kiddie gate blocking the stairs on the back deck. She had begged him to wait for me to arrive to go into the yard, but he countered it with "Don't tell me what to do!" And so that phase begins.
After I arrived he confided in me that he had sneaked out. I reminded him that I enjoy working with him in the yard, and that I'm there to help keep him safe. We went out and worked hard, and as always he chatted happily while we were out there.
Then we were done. Well, the clean up was done, but he wasn't "done" being in the yard. I followed him to the shed. He turned and looked directly at me with a look I had not seen before.
"Don't you have some work to do inside?" he asked. I smiled.
"I always have work I can do."
"I'll be out here for two hours."
"Um..... "
"Okay, I'll be out here for ten minutes, then."
"OK. But I will be watching you from inside."
Reluctantly, I went back into the house to do a few household chores, checking on him every few minutes. I could see his gray head through the shed window. He was walking back and forth, aimlessly. Take the gloves off. Put them back on. Pick up a tool. Put it back.
In about half an hour I came out there as if nothing had happened and asked if he was ready to take a walk. He was very ready, and was back to his normal happy demeanor. I just think he needed to have his way for once. The thing is, that won't be safe at all for much longer. That's unfortunate.
We took a wonderful walk around the neighborhood, talking with anyone who happened to be around. It's like the air lights up his brain. When we got back, I suggested that we take a drive and check out where I used to live, and some of the new construction in the area. He was very happy about this, because he loves my truck.
We drove and drove and drove, and he directed me where to turn with flawless accuracy. It was amazing, and so much fun. Almost 100% of what he said was lucid and perfect. We saw where I used to live, and he admired my old neighborhood.
His daughter had arrived just as we were leaving for the drive, but he was unconcerned and didn't seem anxious to get back home. When we did get back home, he was exceptionally happy. The daughter had brought Valentine's Day cupcakes and invited me to have one. Suddenly, Don started out the back door into the garage. "Where ya goin', Dad?" his daughter called out.
"Just out here...." he said in his lilting voice.
They looked at me. I said "I think he's going to the freezer."
Sure enough, that's where he was. His daughter asked him what he was getting out there.
"Oh, just an item." he said casually.
He returned with a precious little plastic dish of frozen applesauce. Applesauce he had made. It was for me.
Maybe you understand this gesture. Maybe you'll have to think about it. He made that applesauce during his last "okay" weeks. He will never make applesauce again. He wanted to give me something. He wanted to give me something back.
An item.
It's very, very special to me.
How do you get through long days of caring for someone with Dementia? How do you take care of YOU? I take good care of me. Here's how.
Friday I arrived to find Ella a little bit rattled. Seems Don was insisting on going out into the yard and working all alone, which is so unsafe for him. He also had taken a great risk and stepped over a kiddie gate blocking the stairs on the back deck. She had begged him to wait for me to arrive to go into the yard, but he countered it with "Don't tell me what to do!" And so that phase begins.
After I arrived he confided in me that he had sneaked out. I reminded him that I enjoy working with him in the yard, and that I'm there to help keep him safe. We went out and worked hard, and as always he chatted happily while we were out there.
Then we were done. Well, the clean up was done, but he wasn't "done" being in the yard. I followed him to the shed. He turned and looked directly at me with a look I had not seen before.
"Don't you have some work to do inside?" he asked. I smiled.
"I always have work I can do."
"I'll be out here for two hours."
"Um..... "
"Okay, I'll be out here for ten minutes, then."
"OK. But I will be watching you from inside."
Reluctantly, I went back into the house to do a few household chores, checking on him every few minutes. I could see his gray head through the shed window. He was walking back and forth, aimlessly. Take the gloves off. Put them back on. Pick up a tool. Put it back.
In about half an hour I came out there as if nothing had happened and asked if he was ready to take a walk. He was very ready, and was back to his normal happy demeanor. I just think he needed to have his way for once. The thing is, that won't be safe at all for much longer. That's unfortunate.
We took a wonderful walk around the neighborhood, talking with anyone who happened to be around. It's like the air lights up his brain. When we got back, I suggested that we take a drive and check out where I used to live, and some of the new construction in the area. He was very happy about this, because he loves my truck.
We drove and drove and drove, and he directed me where to turn with flawless accuracy. It was amazing, and so much fun. Almost 100% of what he said was lucid and perfect. We saw where I used to live, and he admired my old neighborhood.
His daughter had arrived just as we were leaving for the drive, but he was unconcerned and didn't seem anxious to get back home. When we did get back home, he was exceptionally happy. The daughter had brought Valentine's Day cupcakes and invited me to have one. Suddenly, Don started out the back door into the garage. "Where ya goin', Dad?" his daughter called out.
"Just out here...." he said in his lilting voice.
They looked at me. I said "I think he's going to the freezer."
Sure enough, that's where he was. His daughter asked him what he was getting out there.
"Oh, just an item." he said casually.
He returned with a precious little plastic dish of frozen applesauce. Applesauce he had made. It was for me.
Maybe you understand this gesture. Maybe you'll have to think about it. He made that applesauce during his last "okay" weeks. He will never make applesauce again. He wanted to give me something. He wanted to give me something back.
An item.
It's very, very special to me.
How do you get through long days of caring for someone with Dementia? How do you take care of YOU? I take good care of me. Here's how.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Finding The Words
He fills in the gaps with gestures. Sweeping gestures, as if inviting me to find the words that have escaped his fragile mind. I search for them as hard as I can; I do not want to disappoint. The enthusiastic "YES!" is a reward. If I am unable to find the missing words, he shakes his head and says "Ohhhh. My... dumb brain..." and taps his forehead. But those moments are fewer, as he has figured out that I can piece a story together pretty well without a few elusive words.
We started off on our walk on Tuesday after filling the yard waste recycle bin. At first, he wanted to grab his saw and cut the branches we couldn't fit into the bin, into smaller pieces. I made him a deal, which he accepted, to take a walk instead. Magic words - "Your doctor has asked you to take more walks."
"Oh, I know," he said, resigned. But, in fact, he was looking forward to taking a walk. We had gentle snow flurries swirling around and it was just beautiful.
He's always wanting to give me gloves, and this day was no exception. He thought I should wear the gardening gloves I'd been using, during the walk, and then take them home. So endearing. But we got the proper gloves on, and set out on our walk.
In the driveway he suddenly lists to the right, like a ship that hit a big wave. "Did the driveway move on you?" I ask, cheerfully, reaching for his arm. "Yes. Yes it did. Just a little." He's fine.
The neighborhood has no sidewalks, and that's a little scary, but I don't let on that it is. This day he has chosen not to take his cane.
Here's the epiphany I got on Tuesday. When we leave the house together, he starts talking and does not stop until we're back in the house. He has a running commentary on the homes, the construction, and the past events of the neighborhood. He chats with neighbors, easily, knowing exactly who they are and asking appropriate questions of them. He gets stuck, sometimes, as he tells me the story of one of the neighbors. That word loss thing. He gestures, inviting me to find the missing words. It's like a game. Once he told me that the neighbor worked for my friend. He looked at me square in the eyes after he said that, and I wildly searched the memory banks for who "my friend" could be. "The former governor?" I asked. "YES!!!" Whew!
Tuesday as we neared the house again, after our walk, he was clearly tired and cold. I said "Hey, at least this way, when your doctor asks if you've been taking walks, you can say yes!"
He stopped and smiled, then leaned in and said;
"Sometimes I lie."
How do I keep my energy and focus while caregiving? I have a secret. I'd love to share it with you, if you're in need of energy too. It may or may not be for you, but it works for me! Check it out here. There is a short video, and if you introduce yourself you can step into my virtual store.
We started off on our walk on Tuesday after filling the yard waste recycle bin. At first, he wanted to grab his saw and cut the branches we couldn't fit into the bin, into smaller pieces. I made him a deal, which he accepted, to take a walk instead. Magic words - "Your doctor has asked you to take more walks."
"Oh, I know," he said, resigned. But, in fact, he was looking forward to taking a walk. We had gentle snow flurries swirling around and it was just beautiful.
He's always wanting to give me gloves, and this day was no exception. He thought I should wear the gardening gloves I'd been using, during the walk, and then take them home. So endearing. But we got the proper gloves on, and set out on our walk.
In the driveway he suddenly lists to the right, like a ship that hit a big wave. "Did the driveway move on you?" I ask, cheerfully, reaching for his arm. "Yes. Yes it did. Just a little." He's fine.
The neighborhood has no sidewalks, and that's a little scary, but I don't let on that it is. This day he has chosen not to take his cane.
Here's the epiphany I got on Tuesday. When we leave the house together, he starts talking and does not stop until we're back in the house. He has a running commentary on the homes, the construction, and the past events of the neighborhood. He chats with neighbors, easily, knowing exactly who they are and asking appropriate questions of them. He gets stuck, sometimes, as he tells me the story of one of the neighbors. That word loss thing. He gestures, inviting me to find the missing words. It's like a game. Once he told me that the neighbor worked for my friend. He looked at me square in the eyes after he said that, and I wildly searched the memory banks for who "my friend" could be. "The former governor?" I asked. "YES!!!" Whew!
Tuesday as we neared the house again, after our walk, he was clearly tired and cold. I said "Hey, at least this way, when your doctor asks if you've been taking walks, you can say yes!"
He stopped and smiled, then leaned in and said;
"Sometimes I lie."
How do I keep my energy and focus while caregiving? I have a secret. I'd love to share it with you, if you're in need of energy too. It may or may not be for you, but it works for me! Check it out here. There is a short video, and if you introduce yourself you can step into my virtual store.
Friday, February 7, 2014
The Man of the House
Imagine knowing that you were supposed to clean up the yard, and that you had always cleaned up the yard, and having someone forbid you to even go outside. Imagine if much of the pride you had was in how immaculate you kept that yard.
Don and Ella have a pristine yard. Carefully planned, thoroughly landscaped, and always as clean and neat as the inside of their house.
Except right now. A huge pile of yard debris and pine needles was driving Don crazy. Lunch was done, and he was ready to get his hat and coat on and go out to the yard and pick it all up. Ella held onto his chest and pleaded "Honey, you must not go." When that didn't work she got stern "Honey. You are NOT going out in the yard." Enter the nosy caregiver!
"Is there something I can do to help?" I asked, very cheerfully (and refraining from giving her a big old stink eye).
Don looked puzzled. I said "I can help you clean up that pile in the yard that's bothering you!"
"You would????" he smiled.
She didn't look really pleased. I felt a lot like Cinderella. After all, my chores were done, except for the ironing. The ironing of the sweat clothes, and jeans. I pushed the ironing board up against the wall, unplugged and stored the hot iron, and got on my sweater.
"Let's go outside!"
The man of the house struggled into his shoes, and got his coat and hat, and out the door we went. He stopped and looked at me. "You.... you do this stuff?"
"I do whatever is needed. Yes."
"Well, okayyyy...." (sing song voice)
We raked, shoveled, and gathered as much debris as we could into the yard recycle bin. We filled it to the absolute top. He looked concerned. I just smiled.
Dementia is so interesting. Some muscle memory and routines are undisturbed for some people, and then other things leave gaps. He could not figure out how we were going to get the recycle bin up to the street. I said "Let me turn this around. Then you'll grab one side, and I'll grab the other, and we will work together."
And work together we did. He was so surprised that we could get that all the way up to the walk beside the garage. "I'll take it from here!" he said so happily. It was obvious that the work, the air, and the sense of accomplishment had done him good. We put bin out by the other two, and slowly walked back to the back door. "I think I'll go get my saw and cut up those large branches out there" he said.
Emmmmm no.
"Hey," I said. "I'll make you a deal! Let's do the sawing tomorrow, and take a walk today."
There were some small snowflakes swirling around by this time.
"Okayyyy. Do you think we should walk in this snow?"
"I think it will be fun!"
"Okay, then. Let's do that."
I'll tell you about our walk tomorrow.
Don and Ella have a pristine yard. Carefully planned, thoroughly landscaped, and always as clean and neat as the inside of their house.
Except right now. A huge pile of yard debris and pine needles was driving Don crazy. Lunch was done, and he was ready to get his hat and coat on and go out to the yard and pick it all up. Ella held onto his chest and pleaded "Honey, you must not go." When that didn't work she got stern "Honey. You are NOT going out in the yard." Enter the nosy caregiver!
"Is there something I can do to help?" I asked, very cheerfully (and refraining from giving her a big old stink eye).
Don looked puzzled. I said "I can help you clean up that pile in the yard that's bothering you!"
"You would????" he smiled.
She didn't look really pleased. I felt a lot like Cinderella. After all, my chores were done, except for the ironing. The ironing of the sweat clothes, and jeans. I pushed the ironing board up against the wall, unplugged and stored the hot iron, and got on my sweater.
"Let's go outside!"
The man of the house struggled into his shoes, and got his coat and hat, and out the door we went. He stopped and looked at me. "You.... you do this stuff?"
"I do whatever is needed. Yes."
"Well, okayyyy...." (sing song voice)
We raked, shoveled, and gathered as much debris as we could into the yard recycle bin. We filled it to the absolute top. He looked concerned. I just smiled.
Dementia is so interesting. Some muscle memory and routines are undisturbed for some people, and then other things leave gaps. He could not figure out how we were going to get the recycle bin up to the street. I said "Let me turn this around. Then you'll grab one side, and I'll grab the other, and we will work together."
And work together we did. He was so surprised that we could get that all the way up to the walk beside the garage. "I'll take it from here!" he said so happily. It was obvious that the work, the air, and the sense of accomplishment had done him good. We put bin out by the other two, and slowly walked back to the back door. "I think I'll go get my saw and cut up those large branches out there" he said.
Emmmmm no.
"Hey," I said. "I'll make you a deal! Let's do the sawing tomorrow, and take a walk today."
There were some small snowflakes swirling around by this time.
"Okayyyy. Do you think we should walk in this snow?"
"I think it will be fun!"
"Okay, then. Let's do that."
I'll tell you about our walk tomorrow.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Gentle, quiet man
I see the photos from the past, and he was strikingly handsome. Tall, a little on the thin side, and with the best of smiles. He's still all of those things. He has a quiet grace about him, and he speaks softly. His "uh huh" response to questions is musical. It ends on a higher note, sort of sing-song. You'd have to hear it, I guess.
He has a cane, and a walker. He doesn't like either one. Some days he's pretty steady on his feet, and some days I'm worried about him just trying to stand up. He knows he's failing. He knows he can't think of the words he wants to say, and these things bother him greatly. I can tell he was self-assured in days gone by. Now he feels, as he says, stupid.
He's worried about things like me driving in traffic or weather. He's worried that I live so far away. One day he was obviously thinking about that, and he said "Say we were to come and visit you one day. Where would we go?" Such an interesting way to ask. I described the drive from highway 522 to State Route 2. "Oh, my! You do live way, way out there, don't you?" The thought of him coming out for a visit is delightful to me.
He tries to read the paper, but it's obvious that the words just sit there and don't communicate with him anymore. He scans the same news over and over, and then quietly gives up, folds the paper, and tosses it aside. Hands on the arm rests of the recliner, he stares into space until he falls asleep, mouth open. That hurts my heart. I will sometimes come in and put my hand on his hand and ask if there is anything he wants or needs.
He tried to press the numbers on the phone yesterday, to call his sister. He was unable to press the right ones, because the word "six" and the numeral 6 did not relate, in his mind. It's happening. I hate this.
Sometimes he stands in the hall, unsure of which direction he intended to go. If it's only for a few minutes, I don't intervene. Sometimes I know that means he is trying to figure out if he has to go to the bathroom. In no way do I ever want to embarrass or frighten him. If he wanders back and forth in the hall, I will cheerfully invite him to watch TV while I do a chore. "Keep me company!" I say. He likes that, and says "Oh, okayyyy" in the same soft, sing-song lilt.
He's still at the stage where he knows he's losing himself. One day, mercifully, he will no longer be aware of this. I pray that he still remembers that he feels better when I'm there, should that day come.
He has a cane, and a walker. He doesn't like either one. Some days he's pretty steady on his feet, and some days I'm worried about him just trying to stand up. He knows he's failing. He knows he can't think of the words he wants to say, and these things bother him greatly. I can tell he was self-assured in days gone by. Now he feels, as he says, stupid.
He's worried about things like me driving in traffic or weather. He's worried that I live so far away. One day he was obviously thinking about that, and he said "Say we were to come and visit you one day. Where would we go?" Such an interesting way to ask. I described the drive from highway 522 to State Route 2. "Oh, my! You do live way, way out there, don't you?" The thought of him coming out for a visit is delightful to me.
He tries to read the paper, but it's obvious that the words just sit there and don't communicate with him anymore. He scans the same news over and over, and then quietly gives up, folds the paper, and tosses it aside. Hands on the arm rests of the recliner, he stares into space until he falls asleep, mouth open. That hurts my heart. I will sometimes come in and put my hand on his hand and ask if there is anything he wants or needs.
He tried to press the numbers on the phone yesterday, to call his sister. He was unable to press the right ones, because the word "six" and the numeral 6 did not relate, in his mind. It's happening. I hate this.
Sometimes he stands in the hall, unsure of which direction he intended to go. If it's only for a few minutes, I don't intervene. Sometimes I know that means he is trying to figure out if he has to go to the bathroom. In no way do I ever want to embarrass or frighten him. If he wanders back and forth in the hall, I will cheerfully invite him to watch TV while I do a chore. "Keep me company!" I say. He likes that, and says "Oh, okayyyy" in the same soft, sing-song lilt.
He's still at the stage where he knows he's losing himself. One day, mercifully, he will no longer be aware of this. I pray that he still remembers that he feels better when I'm there, should that day come.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Do you know what she did?
Stories can become very sensational, in Dementia Land. The basic story is probably true, but some of the facts have gotten made larger than life. It's fascinating.
Don and I took a very lengthy walk around his neighborhood. You'll recall that he is obsessed with the City having moved that house to its current location while he was in the hospital. Sometimes the hospital stay was a few weeks ago, and sometimes a few years. Sometimes the house they're in now was "free", and he has NO idea how in the world that happened or for how long they'll be able to stay. I never know what he's going to say, but I'm always ready to reassure him that he is safe.
Anyway, on this particular day, I remarked about the tree in their front yard. It really does have personality, and more so now that there are no leaves. We stood in front of the house and considered the tree, and the other trees which line that edge of the property. He got all wound up, suddenly. "Do you see all...... all of that?" he asked, gesturing toward the trees.
"The trees?"
"YES!"
"I do. They're so pretty."
"Well, do you know what she did? What she did when the City.... they wanted to.... they were going to.... but she got her gun!"
"Oh, my gosh, really?"
"Yes, and our daughter was going to be born.... tomorrow. But she was still out there, with her gun, and she wouldn't let them...... she wouldn't let them! So you see those are still there. She told them they didn't need to take them, and she was right."
"She wasn't about to let them take the trees?"
"That's right! And our little baby daughter was just born, and she sat out here with the baby and with her gun. Every day. Until they gave up."
"Well, then. I guess I better stay on her good side!"
He smiled and nodded.
Don and I took a very lengthy walk around his neighborhood. You'll recall that he is obsessed with the City having moved that house to its current location while he was in the hospital. Sometimes the hospital stay was a few weeks ago, and sometimes a few years. Sometimes the house they're in now was "free", and he has NO idea how in the world that happened or for how long they'll be able to stay. I never know what he's going to say, but I'm always ready to reassure him that he is safe.
Anyway, on this particular day, I remarked about the tree in their front yard. It really does have personality, and more so now that there are no leaves. We stood in front of the house and considered the tree, and the other trees which line that edge of the property. He got all wound up, suddenly. "Do you see all...... all of that?" he asked, gesturing toward the trees.
"The trees?"
"YES!"
"I do. They're so pretty."
"Well, do you know what she did? What she did when the City.... they wanted to.... they were going to.... but she got her gun!"
"Oh, my gosh, really?"
"Yes, and our daughter was going to be born.... tomorrow. But she was still out there, with her gun, and she wouldn't let them...... she wouldn't let them! So you see those are still there. She told them they didn't need to take them, and she was right."
"She wasn't about to let them take the trees?"
"That's right! And our little baby daughter was just born, and she sat out here with the baby and with her gun. Every day. Until they gave up."
"Well, then. I guess I better stay on her good side!"
He smiled and nodded.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
We don't live here
When I arrived on Friday I could see she was exhausted. The spouse of someone with Dementia is usually getting up in years themselves. This is so hard, even for younger people to deal with.
I brought them a deli chicken, but she wanted leftover prime rib sandwiches. We saved the chicken for dinner.
It was an uncharacteristically warm day for this time of year. After lunch, Don went into the family room as if to sit down, but he was actually planning his escape. Ella went into her office to do some bill paying, and I started on the house work. But I got this "feeling" and went looking for Don. He wasn't in the family room. I went to all the rooms of the house - and then stuck my head out the back door. There he was, getting ready to start raking up debris in the yard. He looked guilty. "I was hoping you wouldn't see me" he said with a little smile. By this time Ella had appeared behind me, but I didn't know it. "I've got my eye on you!" I said to Don, and Ella laughed. She looked so tired. I told her I was going to go out and help him in the yard. She sighed and said "I hope you don't mind - I'm going to bed."
Don and I cleaned up the yard, and filled the yard waste container to the top. He wanted to use his saw or chain saw to cut up a particularly large branch, but I suggested that perhaps his grandson might enjoy that job. Thankfully, he agreed. As we looked over the yard and the neighbor's yard, he said "You know, we don't live here."
"Oh?"
"The city. The City of Bothell. I don't know how they did it. But while I was in the hospital they moved this house, and that house" he gestured toward the neighbor's house. He starts in on this from time to time. He hasn't talked about the house moving for a long while - at least not to me. The subject really agitates him, and he gets fixated on it. He really wants to know how they moved those houses, and why. But I said "Even though you don't live here, you're sure doing a great job keeping this yard looking amazing." He liked that.
When we had joined forces to pull the recycle bin up to the space beside the garage, I said "Are you done in, or are you up for a walk?" He was very happily up for a walk. Since we were just fresh off the house moving subject, I asked him to take a look at the house's foundation. "Does it look okay to you?" I asked. "It looks great!" he said.
The confusion continued, though, and he was still very upset about not being where he was supposed to be, and why he was in this house. It got to the point where I could not think of anything to say to distract or calm him, so I took him by the arm and I asked "Do you feel safe here?"
"Yes", he said, thoughtfully.
"Are you comfortable here?"
"Yes."
"And you have Ella with you here."
"Yes."
"Then - is there anything else more important than that?"
Pause
"No."
The relief on his face was very rewarding. We took our walk. I'll talk about that next time.
Just want family caregivers to know a couple of things. One - take a break. Let the hired caregiver take over for you sometimes. Two - sometimes you can't win an argument (shouldn't actually argue) or solve an issue. Go to the heart of the matter in that case. Make sure your loved one feels safe, secure, and comfortable. Those things are the most important.
I brought them a deli chicken, but she wanted leftover prime rib sandwiches. We saved the chicken for dinner.
It was an uncharacteristically warm day for this time of year. After lunch, Don went into the family room as if to sit down, but he was actually planning his escape. Ella went into her office to do some bill paying, and I started on the house work. But I got this "feeling" and went looking for Don. He wasn't in the family room. I went to all the rooms of the house - and then stuck my head out the back door. There he was, getting ready to start raking up debris in the yard. He looked guilty. "I was hoping you wouldn't see me" he said with a little smile. By this time Ella had appeared behind me, but I didn't know it. "I've got my eye on you!" I said to Don, and Ella laughed. She looked so tired. I told her I was going to go out and help him in the yard. She sighed and said "I hope you don't mind - I'm going to bed."
Don and I cleaned up the yard, and filled the yard waste container to the top. He wanted to use his saw or chain saw to cut up a particularly large branch, but I suggested that perhaps his grandson might enjoy that job. Thankfully, he agreed. As we looked over the yard and the neighbor's yard, he said "You know, we don't live here."
"Oh?"
"The city. The City of Bothell. I don't know how they did it. But while I was in the hospital they moved this house, and that house" he gestured toward the neighbor's house. He starts in on this from time to time. He hasn't talked about the house moving for a long while - at least not to me. The subject really agitates him, and he gets fixated on it. He really wants to know how they moved those houses, and why. But I said "Even though you don't live here, you're sure doing a great job keeping this yard looking amazing." He liked that.
When we had joined forces to pull the recycle bin up to the space beside the garage, I said "Are you done in, or are you up for a walk?" He was very happily up for a walk. Since we were just fresh off the house moving subject, I asked him to take a look at the house's foundation. "Does it look okay to you?" I asked. "It looks great!" he said.
The confusion continued, though, and he was still very upset about not being where he was supposed to be, and why he was in this house. It got to the point where I could not think of anything to say to distract or calm him, so I took him by the arm and I asked "Do you feel safe here?"
"Yes", he said, thoughtfully.
"Are you comfortable here?"
"Yes."
"And you have Ella with you here."
"Yes."
"Then - is there anything else more important than that?"
Pause
"No."
The relief on his face was very rewarding. We took our walk. I'll talk about that next time.
Just want family caregivers to know a couple of things. One - take a break. Let the hired caregiver take over for you sometimes. Two - sometimes you can't win an argument (shouldn't actually argue) or solve an issue. Go to the heart of the matter in that case. Make sure your loved one feels safe, secure, and comfortable. Those things are the most important.
Friday, January 17, 2014
If all else fails, beat it with your cane!
They had a doctor's appointment yesterday, so when I arrived at 12:30 both were dressed, had sweaters on, and were ready to go. I was to clean the entire house while they were gone, with special emphasis on the gas range grates. Seriously. Oh, did I mention - I was hired as a Care Giver? Normally I would be taking them to that appointment, making sure they were safe and secure, and driving them back home. But she is still very much "in charge".
The appointment proved to be too much for her, and when they arrived back home nearly 3 hours later, she was exhausted and had a headache. Carpet cleaners were coming the next day, and she was fussing about needing to move all of the odds and ends of furniture. She told me that "we", meaning she and I, would be moving the furniture. Suddenly something else urgent popped into her head. They had just purchased new lamps, which came packed in a huge amount of styrofoam. She wanted me to smash it all down and put it into the garbage. "There is too much", I said. "To smash it would cause a huge mess, with small pieces flying all over, and even then it won't fit into your garbage can. Better to put it in black garbage bags and THEN smash it, and have it taken to a large dumpster." She was obviously very displeased at my answer, but, true to her usual method of operation, she said nothing. She simply took a large butcher knife, her cane, and her determination, and went out to do it herself. Pretty soon the husband and I heard a commotion out by the garbage can, which I'd already placed at the edge of the sidewalk. There she was, with one large piece of styrofoam sticking out of the can, beating it with her cane. He smiled. We stood at the window watching her. "Wow." he said softly, "she's really beating the hell out of that, isn't she?" We laughed. I said I was worried the neighbors would think they were witnessing a crime scene. It was an interesting thing, to be enjoying this with him, so amused. I was hoping this activity would relieve some of her tension.
She came back to the house, styrofoam in tow, defeated. "There's too much" she said. "It's making a huge mess to try to smash it up. I'm going to just put it into large black garbage bags and have Don Jr haul it off later." Gosh. Wish I would have thought of that!
She plopped down on a chair but her mind was still swirling. The furniture HAD to be moved.
He wanted to help. She kept nagging at him to sit down. I was wondering if she really thought I was going to move two rooms of furniture and all that was on them by myself. I smiled at Don. "Hey. Wanna help me move some furniture?" Finding herself too weak to argue, she watched while the two of us moved flowers, pictures, candles, and tables, as well as the very heavy dining room chairs. On moving the final heavy end table, I felt his side of the load start to shake so I said "I have an idea! Just set it down and I'll slide it the rest of the way." Dignity saved, and no harm done. I'm sure all that lifting was actually good for him, and it certainly made him feel manly again!
She came back to the house, styrofoam in tow, defeated. "There's too much" she said. "It's making a huge mess to try to smash it up. I'm going to just put it into large black garbage bags and have Don Jr haul it off later." Gosh. Wish I would have thought of that!
She plopped down on a chair but her mind was still swirling. The furniture HAD to be moved.
He wanted to help. She kept nagging at him to sit down. I was wondering if she really thought I was going to move two rooms of furniture and all that was on them by myself. I smiled at Don. "Hey. Wanna help me move some furniture?" Finding herself too weak to argue, she watched while the two of us moved flowers, pictures, candles, and tables, as well as the very heavy dining room chairs. On moving the final heavy end table, I felt his side of the load start to shake so I said "I have an idea! Just set it down and I'll slide it the rest of the way." Dignity saved, and no harm done. I'm sure all that lifting was actually good for him, and it certainly made him feel manly again!
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Is Your Elder Getting Enough Protein?
I often prepare small, very attractive meals for this reason. If allowed to choose the foods myself, I select lean meats, eggs, fish, and vegetable proteins, along with raw or lightly cooked vegetables.
But, how do you know if your elderly family member or client is getting enough protein, and if they are absorbing it? Supplementing with a clean whey protein seems to be the very best answer. Please read what Dr. Michael Colgan says about this:
Protein Absorption
Dr Michael Colgan 15 January 2014
Whey and casein proteins from milk have the greatest bioavailability when compared to popular protein alternatives, including egg, soy, and all other vegetable proteins.
Undenatured whey protein is water soluble, thus is quickly digested in the body, earning it the “fast protein” title. It’s amino acids are quickly available in large quantities soon after consumption (30-45 minutes).
Casein is water insoluble and coagulates, resulting in a slow-release mechanism of amino acids over a longer period of time. Consumption of a casein supplement results in slower availability of amino acids, which is why it is labeled a “slow protein.” Although superior to egg, soy, and other vegetable protein, casein proteins are too slowly absorbed to take advantage of the greater anabolic state of the body that occurs for about 90 minutes after workout (Campbell et al., 2007; Wilson and Wilson, 2006).
Campbell B, Kreider RB, Ziegenfuss T, La Bounty P, Roberts M, Burke D, Landis J, Lopez H, Antonio J International Society of Sports Nutrition position stand: protein and exercise. J Int Soc Sports Nutr. 2007 Sep 26; 4():8.
Wilson J, Wilson GJ. Contemporary issues in protein requirements and consumption for resistance trained athletes. J Int Soc Sports Nutr. 2006 Jun 5; 3():7-27.
I have my favorite source for undenatured whey protein. If you're curious about that, just ask, or look at my products link to the right. I've been using this for over 7 years, personally, and have seen it make a profound impact in the lives of elderly people. I see increased stamina, strength, focus, and when needed, a loss of excess weight.
Fellow caregivers will receive special care from me, should you choose to give this particular whey protein meal replacement/enhancement a try, for you, or for your elderly client or family member.
Fellow caregivers will receive special care from me, should you choose to give this particular whey protein meal replacement/enhancement a try, for you, or for your elderly client or family member.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Who Knew? Staples has Home Health Supplies!
I am a caregiver. You knew that. But you didn't know that I'm always thinking of things that can make my clients' lives a little easier - on and off the job.
Today I was searching for something to lift the blankets away from my client's delicate feet. What is available is so flimsy, it makes it impossible for her to make her own bed. I decided a bedside table would work - placed near the end of the bed, under the linens, lifting all away from her feet but remaining firmly in place. Doing a web search, I discovered one available at Staples, of all places, and for a lot less than the medical supply places.
So I decided to browse further, and I found this! One of the most dangerous places in the home, for elderly or infirm people, is the bathroom. When a family caregiver, especially an elderly spouse, assists with bathing, it can be a recipe for disaster. This unit would allow the easiest transfer ever. Many bathrooms are arranged in the way this picture shows. The couple for whom I am currently working (Don and Ella) have this set-up in their main bathroom. Currently, she is assisting him in the glass-enclosed shower in the second bathroom. I shake my head over this one, and know that one of these days...
My blog on showering an elderly person, a step by step guide, has proven to be the most popular post I've ever done. So I know that caregivers are looking for ways to accomplish this more easily. In that blog, the instruction to have the towels in the dryer and go grab them toward the end of the shower, would apply to someone using a device like the one I linked above, being used by someone of sound mind and strong enough to safely stay put while you go and get the towels. Alternatively, you can have the hot towels wrapped securely together during the shower, and they should stay nicely warm.
I'm not affiliated with Staples, but I thought I would pass along this resource.
Please feel free to contact me with any issues you're having. Sometimes brainstorming can open up solutions you might not otherwise have thought about. You can reach me by cell at 425-802-2763
Family caregivers - I salute you! Stay safe.
Today I was searching for something to lift the blankets away from my client's delicate feet. What is available is so flimsy, it makes it impossible for her to make her own bed. I decided a bedside table would work - placed near the end of the bed, under the linens, lifting all away from her feet but remaining firmly in place. Doing a web search, I discovered one available at Staples, of all places, and for a lot less than the medical supply places.
So I decided to browse further, and I found this! One of the most dangerous places in the home, for elderly or infirm people, is the bathroom. When a family caregiver, especially an elderly spouse, assists with bathing, it can be a recipe for disaster. This unit would allow the easiest transfer ever. Many bathrooms are arranged in the way this picture shows. The couple for whom I am currently working (Don and Ella) have this set-up in their main bathroom. Currently, she is assisting him in the glass-enclosed shower in the second bathroom. I shake my head over this one, and know that one of these days...
My blog on showering an elderly person, a step by step guide, has proven to be the most popular post I've ever done. So I know that caregivers are looking for ways to accomplish this more easily. In that blog, the instruction to have the towels in the dryer and go grab them toward the end of the shower, would apply to someone using a device like the one I linked above, being used by someone of sound mind and strong enough to safely stay put while you go and get the towels. Alternatively, you can have the hot towels wrapped securely together during the shower, and they should stay nicely warm.
I'm not affiliated with Staples, but I thought I would pass along this resource.
Please feel free to contact me with any issues you're having. Sometimes brainstorming can open up solutions you might not otherwise have thought about. You can reach me by cell at 425-802-2763
Family caregivers - I salute you! Stay safe.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
"And I'm Right Here"
I use the term "insurance policy" for a lot of things in Care Giving. The adult bib, for instance. It's an insurance policy to protect the beautiful blouse. Same with adult incontinence products. Insures against a problematic situation.
The other day, I saw that Don was struggling to rise from the recliner. It is a rocker/recliner which also rotates in a full circle. This makes it far less than ideal for someone with strength and balance issues. It won't be long until he will require a new chair, but for now it's mostly okay. I rushed to his side, because he had partially risen to a standing position, then plopped back down into the chair. Ella was attempting to help him by barking at him "MOVE FORWARD. SCOOT FORWARD. YES. OK STAND UP" I went to his side to place my arm under his right arm and steady him as he stood. I am, after all, a care giver... I said "Sometimes all you need is a little insurance policy..." and Ella stepped directly into his field of vision and said, loudly, "And I'm right here. All the time."
So there is a guy in a weakened state, attempting to go from sitting to standing in a recliner which rocks and rotates, and in front of him is a woman his age who walks with a cane and has a hip surgery which has not yet entirely healed. Can you see anything wrong with this picture? Let's see what just might happen. He might fall back, pulling her with him. That wouldn't be so bad, as they'd be in the soft confines of the chair. He might fall forward, pushing her down with him. That would be very bad, as it would place both of them out of reach of the phone.
But, to them, my "place" is behind the vacuum and mop, or in the kitchen, or laundry. I've been hired to care for the house, and the house does not appreciate my training or my work. But she's right here. She can handle this care giving - after all; he's been her husband for so many years.
As hard as it is to accept the help of a caregiver, it's very important to do so when the need arises. First of all, a family care giver who is, herself, in her 80's, will quickly burn out, or worse. Another fall, for her, would put her into the hospital at best. Then what would he do?
Encourage your loved one to take full advantage of respite care, and care givers. Reassure Mom that it's not shameful to have someone else care for Dad - that you love her and want her to be healthy. Same would apply if it's Mom who needs help and Dad feels like he can handle it. They can't. Not for long. You may have to be the insurance policy for them - to keep them from being. harmed themselves.
And if you find yourself in the position of providing care yourself, and want to know how you can be paid while caring for them full time, take a look at my blog about that here.
The other day, I saw that Don was struggling to rise from the recliner. It is a rocker/recliner which also rotates in a full circle. This makes it far less than ideal for someone with strength and balance issues. It won't be long until he will require a new chair, but for now it's mostly okay. I rushed to his side, because he had partially risen to a standing position, then plopped back down into the chair. Ella was attempting to help him by barking at him "MOVE FORWARD. SCOOT FORWARD. YES. OK STAND UP" I went to his side to place my arm under his right arm and steady him as he stood. I am, after all, a care giver... I said "Sometimes all you need is a little insurance policy..." and Ella stepped directly into his field of vision and said, loudly, "And I'm right here. All the time."
So there is a guy in a weakened state, attempting to go from sitting to standing in a recliner which rocks and rotates, and in front of him is a woman his age who walks with a cane and has a hip surgery which has not yet entirely healed. Can you see anything wrong with this picture? Let's see what just might happen. He might fall back, pulling her with him. That wouldn't be so bad, as they'd be in the soft confines of the chair. He might fall forward, pushing her down with him. That would be very bad, as it would place both of them out of reach of the phone.
But, to them, my "place" is behind the vacuum and mop, or in the kitchen, or laundry. I've been hired to care for the house, and the house does not appreciate my training or my work. But she's right here. She can handle this care giving - after all; he's been her husband for so many years.
As hard as it is to accept the help of a caregiver, it's very important to do so when the need arises. First of all, a family care giver who is, herself, in her 80's, will quickly burn out, or worse. Another fall, for her, would put her into the hospital at best. Then what would he do?
Encourage your loved one to take full advantage of respite care, and care givers. Reassure Mom that it's not shameful to have someone else care for Dad - that you love her and want her to be healthy. Same would apply if it's Mom who needs help and Dad feels like he can handle it. They can't. Not for long. You may have to be the insurance policy for them - to keep them from being. harmed themselves.
And if you find yourself in the position of providing care yourself, and want to know how you can be paid while caring for them full time, take a look at my blog about that here.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Brave Face
She's asleep when I arrive. I am not surprised by this, because it's only 10:00 AM.
I let myself in and get to work on the list. To her, the list seemed overwhelming. Roast marrow bones in preparation for making bone broth. Start broth simmering, with chicken and turkey carcasses. Simmer chicken hearts with onion and bay leaf. Empty dishwasher. Fold clean laundry. Change kitty litter. It's now 10:45 and she is up, and very surprised.
She greets me with a smile. It's a brave smile, and the left side of her mouth raises just a bit higher than the right. Her eyes are sunken, and rimmed with red. She's so thin it hurts my heart. But she says, in her very soft voice, "I could smell onions when I woke up, so I knew Ruth was here." She's beautiful. Still.
This is her first day of having an in home care giver. For a couple of years all I've done is transport her to and from doctors' appointments, and various errands. I love this woman, and desire to simply be her friend. I do not want to be her care giver, and yet it's my honor that she has asked. What I want is to meet her for coffee, or a walk in the park, or to go shopping.
The pain behind her brave face was put there by Lyme Disease. She's only learned this recently. For years she has battled symptoms which have been attributed to many things. She has endured rounds of antibiotics, surgeries, and treatment from multiple health care providers. Her system has become so delicate that there are few things she can eat anymore, and her weight loss is shocking. Typical of a chronic Lyme Disease sufferer, she has weakness, pain, headaches, and severe fatigue. Now, at a few years younger than I am, she gets to experience the world of having an in-home caregiver. Some daily tasks are now just too much.
What will always make me sad is how long it took her family to realize she was in need of their support and help.
Lying on the little couch, she receives a very non-professional massage from me. Just to get some blood flow. Just to provide a little pressure to relieve the pain. It's difficult to find tissue to massage, as the persistent illness has all but consumed her.
At the end of my time there, the garbage is out and all is in order. We will be going to a specialist on Friday. I am holding out enough hope for both of us, that an answer will be found.
She hugs me goodbye, again with that brave face and smile. She looks like someone deeply involved in the fight of her life. And she is.
I let myself in and get to work on the list. To her, the list seemed overwhelming. Roast marrow bones in preparation for making bone broth. Start broth simmering, with chicken and turkey carcasses. Simmer chicken hearts with onion and bay leaf. Empty dishwasher. Fold clean laundry. Change kitty litter. It's now 10:45 and she is up, and very surprised.
She greets me with a smile. It's a brave smile, and the left side of her mouth raises just a bit higher than the right. Her eyes are sunken, and rimmed with red. She's so thin it hurts my heart. But she says, in her very soft voice, "I could smell onions when I woke up, so I knew Ruth was here." She's beautiful. Still.
This is her first day of having an in home care giver. For a couple of years all I've done is transport her to and from doctors' appointments, and various errands. I love this woman, and desire to simply be her friend. I do not want to be her care giver, and yet it's my honor that she has asked. What I want is to meet her for coffee, or a walk in the park, or to go shopping.
The pain behind her brave face was put there by Lyme Disease. She's only learned this recently. For years she has battled symptoms which have been attributed to many things. She has endured rounds of antibiotics, surgeries, and treatment from multiple health care providers. Her system has become so delicate that there are few things she can eat anymore, and her weight loss is shocking. Typical of a chronic Lyme Disease sufferer, she has weakness, pain, headaches, and severe fatigue. Now, at a few years younger than I am, she gets to experience the world of having an in-home caregiver. Some daily tasks are now just too much.
What will always make me sad is how long it took her family to realize she was in need of their support and help.
At the end of my time there, the garbage is out and all is in order. We will be going to a specialist on Friday. I am holding out enough hope for both of us, that an answer will be found.
She hugs me goodbye, again with that brave face and smile. She looks like someone deeply involved in the fight of her life. And she is.
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