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
Thanks for sharing that song. I love to read your posts. Your an awesome caregiver Ruth.
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