dementia

Christmas and Parkinson

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Cheryl has it in her head that Christmas is any minute now. The calendar fact that Halloween is next week does not dissuade her vision of the immediate future. Often when she makes comments almost daily now about cards, cookies, toys and generally shopping for the grand kiddos, I correct her and point out that we have about eight weeks to go before we need to worry.

We have only one grand child under the age of fifteen. My secret grand plan was to give every kid money and let them go find something that they covet. Zachary is only five so shopping for him takes us back to when the parents were that small. Good memories and fun times were had by all and I admit I like to shop for little people. (Maybe I should tell my soon to be fifty year old daughter that her mom is getting her a Raggedy Ann for Christmas. Be surprised and delighted. Is Raggedy Ann still around?)

So why are men so obstinate? Why am I stuck on correcting her delusion about the calendar time? I am not going to let her miss anything. She seems to not be disappointed when she indicates Christmas is next week and I say, no it is the week after or some such other baloney to satisfy her that the perceived need is not urgent. She wants to put up some Christmasy decorations. Why not? What is the harm if it satisfies her that all is in readiness?

Cookies

Two days ago like many days previous she wanted to make cookies for Christmas. Yesterday early in the day I put together the dough in preparation. It was our intention to make the cookies after we came home from dinner last evening. It did not happen as we became distracted with watching a couple PBS shows that are our favorites. I promised today after exercise class we would make cookies.

After a little lunch we got started on the cookies. In my maleness I sort of bossed her out of the way to start the process. Why I did that I am still discerning. Maybe in another life I will know why or not. She wanted to make the dough balls for the snicker doodles. I reluctantly backed off shifted into check-on-her mode.

Music

I once worked for a small company that had a six hour loop tape of Christmas music that played on the hold line of the office phone. One of the partners had read a book about how office workers liked to hear and were more efficient with music playing. He piped the hold music into the overhead speakers. It was like working in an elevator that was stuck on the wrong floor. It was agony.

She said to me, “Get your music machine out and turn on Christmas music.” She means Alexa. I cringed when she told to do that. I think I grumped a little too and then I went to get the hockey puck I move around to listen to music. A Christmas song or two in among others is okay. WARM 98’s idea of solid Christmas music, old, new, good, bad, chipmunks, Benedictine monks, rock and roll, country-western, some group of nuns, Bing Crosby, etc. a few years ago lost me as a listener. That was not a big deal to them since I rarely listened to their station. Five weeks of Christmas music is agony to my ear. I feared the worst was going to happen – Christmas carols from Halloween to Christmas. There would be no “Monster Mash”. I said loudly, “Alexa, play Christmas music!”

Christmas music always makes Cheryl nostalgic. She remembers the olden days when she was a child. Nostalgia makes people tear up. Cheryl is no different. With her version of Parkinson, her emotions are on her sleeve. “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” started coming from Alexa. Bing was doing he usual great job. Cheryl was five when this movie became a favorite in the post war ‘50s. In the middle of scooping cookie dough into one inch balls she started to cry. There is nothing I can say to assuage her nostalgia and longing for her childhood. Those are most of the only clear memories that she has. A runny nose and drippy eyes are not useful for rolling cookie dough into balls for snicker-doodles so I eased her out of the way into a chair while I finished rolling the cookies.

I suppose we will do cards another day. Why are men so obstinate?

Carpe Diem.

Dementia and Daily life

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No matter how slight in the daylight hours her dementia which is characterized by memory loss, confusion, inability to understand implied ideas (The garbage is getting full vs. Take out the garbage.), following instructions (recipes), calendar time even when displayed (Monday, October 10, 2022 at the top of the newspaper) and random association of objects (old birthday cards paper clipped to new magazines), it seems to affect every minute of every waking moment of her life. I struggle to keep her informed about what is happening or going to happen soon. It is stressful to remember my stuff and her stuff too.

Today’s topic which started at 4:20 AM this morning was a problem with the computer. Which computer I do not know but I assume it is the on in her office. It was stuck working on some background process and that was clogging up the workflow. If I had to guess it was some Norton Defender thing going on tying up resources. She has a Windows 7 operating system and takes very little to befuddle the processor. None of this happened by the way. It was all a dream that popped her out of bed at 4:20 AM. It popped me out of bed too.

After a little discussion and a trip to the toilet, I got her back to bed and I made a pseudo-check on the computer and reported to her that it would be okay in the morning. It was running a background cleanup process. She should get some more sleep and wait.

When these episodes happen in the middle of the night, I worry about her vivid dreams. She called it a nightmare probably because in her dream she had to get something done quickly. The computer was not cooperating. Lately she has had several discussions about work projects for the church and as memories about her working career. Navigating the discussion is tricky when I point out that she no longer works beyond our little condo. What few little officey jobs she did for the parish evaporated with the do over of the parish hierarchy when the Catholic Church in our area discovered they had too many buildings and not enough people.

A lot of old files and booklets still exist in her office. Lately I have been closing the door to her office at night and reporting to her that it will keep the kiddos out of her area overnight. She usually says, “Good. Thanks.”

I did not speak about the computer although I did point out that she was sleeping pretty soundly when I woke her at 9 AM and she remarked that yes she did not get up at all overnight. (She truly was dreaming when I talked to her at 4:20 AM.) I affirmed her comment and helped her get up. I did not mention 4:20 AM. (Am I harping on 4:20 AM? Yep.)

After she ate her cereal and as I was passing through the coffee pot one more time, she remarked that she hoped the computer was okay. I did not expound on that but suggested she should check later when she had a chance. She did and reported all was well.

Carpe 4:20 AM Diem. (I could not resist.)

Furniture Rearranging

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It is possible that my thought about how to better utilize our space will cause me great heartache. I asked my son and grandson over to do a bit of furniture rearrangement. We do not seem to be as focused on the television as we once were in an earlier part of the journey with Parkinson. Stimulus money from two different administrations left us with new furniture and extra sleeping facilities. The living room remained focused on the television like some early 1980’s sitcom living room. I wanted to change that look. I read mostly but there are a couple shows I like to watch. Cheryl rarely sits for more that 20 minutes to watch anything. She seems to struggle with any story line in any show. So the television is no longer a focal point.

I turned the whole room 90 degrees with the help of my son and grandson. We moved the dining area around a bit also and now the walkways are a little wider to allow for walkers and mobility aids. I have made one slight adjustment. Her recliner is electric and I put it closer to the wall to hide the cord. I have since moved her recliner to the other side of the end table (away from the wall) and hide the wires under my chair and the end table (side table). Her chair is now approximately in the same position as it was previously just turned about 90 degrees. She is comfortable with that position.

She asked me if we need to notify anyone of our new address and she wants to know if she will need a new key. Moving the furniture around makes her think that we have moved to a new condo. I told her that I had the locks keyed like the old ones so no new keys were necessary. I also dutifully instructed the kids and neighbors of our new/not new address.

Dementia is amazing in its scope. In Cheryl’s case location in time and space are intertwined. If I knew the phone number for heaven I could help her call her mom. Sometimes she wants to do that.

Heaven’s phone bank – Hello Heaven. Gabriel speaking. How may I direct your call?

Carpe Diem.

Hallucinations, Delusional behavior, The presence of others = Caregiver frustrations

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Today I spent an hour or so on the phone talking to my sister, Joyce. She called about 11 o’clock as I was finishing a loaf of bread dough. We talked for a long time as we usually do when she calls me or I call her. We talked about various things and caught up with each other’s activities.

Cheryl could overhear our conversation as I had put the phone on “trucker” (speakerphone) as I finished up my dough activity but eventually I turned off the speakerphone feature because it does not work well with her outside walking and me inside talking loudly.

Eventually we finished our conversation. Cheryl moved by me into her office to do her card thing. I could tell by her body language she was angry about something. I checked in on her. She was sitting in her office so I asked if she wanted the light on. She replied no. I remarked that she seemed angry. She said she was because her cards were all a mess.

Her delusional mind did not have a memory of her sitting at her desk last evening sorting and moving her cards around.

I did not have an answer suitable for her to be okay with so I kept my mouth shut.

Sometimes in the moment seizing nothing is a good idea to maintain namaste.

Carpe Diem.

Parkie Time

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… is different than any other time.

I think that when I want to do something with Cheryl, parkie time shows up to slow things down. It is inevitable. She will say- let’s go or are you ready to go- or words that convey the sentiment that she is ready. Nope. That is a incorrect interpretation of the language.

If I stop to consider parkie time though it makes sense. I thought we were headed to the car. Actually we were headed to check on several stacks of paper in her office before we go. The thing about parkie time is that it has little to do with clock time.

There’s a period of hesitation while one remembers what is happening next and what is required for that activity. If I realize what is happening I can help but sometimes the help is unappreciated. It is a delicate balance of gentle help and unintentional stress. Memory loss mingles with confusion to create stress.

The important thing is to not respond to the smart-Alec comment or to make one. Running down the road jabbing at each other with pointed sticks does not accomplish much but admittedly can be momentarily satisfying to both. Resist doing that. The road is smoother. There is less apologizing later. Certainly there is less guilt at having trod all over someone’s emotions.

The disease is not them. It is hard to remember that in the rush for the door to leave and go somewhere.

Carpe Diem.

Surrounded by Wonderful Loving People

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“Feeling blessed” – is a phrase I associate little with this disease of Parkinson but I am learning to understand the meaning of that phrase with respect to helping others and help from others. Cheryl used to tell her mother that there is grace in accepting help from others. (:-0) Once in a while I say this to Cheryl when she resists my aid.

It is easy to get caught up in “why me?” It is easy to not take note of all the kind and loving ways that people around you are willing to help in some small way. Most do not even hesitate. Wear your gray hair to the door of a restaurant and the guy coming the other way will hold it for you. Carry a walking aid or a cane to the same door and kids will jump up and open the door.

In our life with Parkinson we experience these small helps a lot. Cheryl wants to do for and help others even when they are helping her. There is goodness in everyone. Even when one is certain that the other person has not applied themselves and therefore did not achieve the expected benefit help is given without expectation of gratitude.

From the point of view of “little helps” everywhere often spontaneously offered to us, we are blessed.

Our friend Jane is a great help to me. She has organized a network of care around Cheryl and me. She has contacted many of the group of women that she and Cheryl used to play bridge with. Cheryl is unable to play bridge any longer. The game is simply too mentally taxing for her. We used to play Scrabble in the evening and I did not want to play because Cheryl would always, often anyway, kill me score-wise. With Scrabble and Bridge and other competitive thinking sorts of games, she excelled. Her math and logical brain rose to the challenge.

Jane and the rest have organized themselves into Wednesday visiting parties. Jane comes across the hall on Monday so that I can ride my bike or do whatever. Barb comes on the last Thursday of the month to take Cheryl to lunch. Cindy has been coming over on Thursday in the afternoon so I can go do whatever. I usually ride my bike in the warmer months. Linda has been coming on Wednesday but her sister is very ill and she needs to be with her. (She may not be with us much longer.) Jane is a blessing to us. As is Linda and Cindy and everyone of Cheryl’s friends.

Family …

My son and daughter-in-law have been a focus of my need to get Cheryl out away from our little condo on the weekend. David and Melissa are almost always available for a weekend visit. They live nearby in eastern Indiana. The drive to their place is such that I takes us through the fringe of the city into enough rural properties that here and there are planted corn and soybeans. It seems like a long trip to Cheryl. When we get home her reaction is much like coming home from a long trip.

A few evenings ago I invited a couple of Cheryl’s cousins for dinner. It was a great time. Steve and his wife Marisa sent an email just checking in on us a few weeks ago so I invited them for dinner. Cheryl insisted that I invite Lois who is another cousin from a different direction. 🙂 Lois, Steve and Risa did not know each other except through inference by family name(s). Lois and Steve are cousins to Cheryl but not to each other. Nevertheless the dinner was great. They found common reference by neighborhood. They physically do not live far apart.

Cheryl talks about Lois a lot and her mom Aunt Jean (great aunt). In her childhood she got a lot of hand me down clothes from that direction. Lois is a couple of years older. I may have mixed up the story a little. I am merely trying to track down some of these childhood stories before the people in them are gone. Marian and Tom, Steve’s mom and dad, are gone from this world. Their family is younger. I remember Steve as a boy coming to some of the long ago family gatherings at Sharon Woods Park. Lois is the last, I think, of her family. Her sister Maureen we used to see occasionally at Macy’s in Kenwood doing her supervisor shtick. She is gone.

As we move on and Cheryl resides mentally in her childhood, I have taken it upon myself to reconnect with these people. Many of whom I do not know personally except by my wife’s stories. And her memory is failing her in bits and pieces and fits and starts. I think it is becoming more urgent for me to do this and I do not know why I feel the need to do this other than it brings her great pleasure to talk and reminisce with her cousins. Her most pleasurable stories seem to revolve around the many large family gatherings and smaller group visits.

On my never ending journey to help Cheryl experience the best of her days even though Parkinson is trying to steal the memory of them from her.

Carpe Diem.

One More Thing

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There is always one more thing to do, one more chore to accomplish, just one more job. The unpaid but highly rewarding job of care partner is filled with unrelenting detail and a never ending series of little jobs. The list is long. New things are added often.

Take some time to reflect. Cheryl’s creeping dementia does not allow her learn new things or compensating techniques easily. And she may not learn them at all. She might learn the reverse. Always be encouraging even as you as care partner become discouraged.

Carpe Diem

Enjoy the rest of it.

Whatever it may be.

Help where you can. Sometimes she will refuse the help. Help anyway.

Double Carpe Diem.

Reminders

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Today I have taken notice of the necessity to remind Cheryl what she is doing and where she is going. On this particular morning I have reminded her that she was going to change clothes for exercise class three times so far. Once she is away from other distractions I relax a bit and wait for the next reminder time.

Today’s list of events

Starting sometime in May after I was into my care partnering seminar I started to post the days events on this handy piece of white plastic left over from some project. I read an article that gave some tips for helping those who are struggling with dementia. It spoke of using a small erasable white board to post events somewhere. There is one on the wall of every hospital room I have been in for twenty or more years.

I had this and it works for me. I even had dry erase and wet erase markers leftover from my teaching days. They were not dried up yet, so, I was set for awhile. Since May I have had to order more markers. This one is near the end of its useful life.

The family calendar became less and less meaningful overtime. Cheryl is no longer able to discern what week or day is applicable to today. I started transferring the days events onto this board the night before I went to bed. She reads it the next day and looks through the newspaper. Even though the date is printed at the top of the newspaper she cannot relate it to the date for today.

Dementia, confusion and memory loss is annoying to be sure but the silver lining is every day is new and fresh.

Carpe Diem.

Last Evening Discussion

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Last night or maybe the day before Cheryl asked me whether we would have to get another booster shot. Covid-19 has drifted into the background since the death of E ii R and other news. I replied that no doubt someone was working on a new shot to address the specific variation of the virus in the same manner that a new flu shot is developed every year. We will ask Lauren when we see her in December.

The WSJ has this to say today about Covid -19.

Her commentary and question about the current covid vaccine challenge was mixed in with other comments about the many old Christmas, birthday and other holiday greeting cards that she has rediscovered and placed in a small basket crafted by my dad’s deceased sister Alberta. I still marvel at Aunt Bert’s skill. Cheryl marvels at all the cards that in her mind just appeared in the mail. Most are years old but they just came today.

Sometimes she replies to the messages contained inside each card on the card itself. Later when she reads her own reply, perhaps days later, it is new information.

Dementia is at least memory loss and everything is new and fresh. I have not been given that gift. Everyday is a new day even if it is Groundhog Day.

Carpe Diem.

Memory Loss

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Lately i have been reading Gwendy’s Final Task by Richard Chizmar and Stephen King. I became tired of violent crime novels and this book claims to be the final volume of a trilogy. Perfect I thought. Stephen can be wordy although I think he is a good story teller. And Maine is apparently a mess, Castle Rock anyway.

Gwendy the main character is losing her memory and is very aware of it. She maybe dealing with beginning Alzheimer’s or something like it. It is disturbing to her. I wonder if it is realistic to think that folks like Gwendy or Cheryl or others dealing with a chronic illness that destroys one memory are aware of it happening. It is a scary thing to Gwendy in the novel. She talks of how names just disappear from her head and the struggle she has to get the thought back.

There is a lot more to the story but Gwendy is actively hiding her memory issues. Initially she forgets names and her neurologist and psychiatrist doctor has taught her a little memory association technique that helps her through most situations. And Stephen King has a device in his story that works even better. I wish there was such a device for Cheryl. I wish the device did not require the ending that Stephen has worked out for Gwendy.

More and more I hunt for memory tricks to help her. It may be too late for many of those to be useful. Getting out of the car I repeat, “One hand on the door and one hand on the chair and you are out of there.” I have little knowledge of whether that’s working but more and more she reaches for the car door inner handle and puts her left hand on the seat back to propel herself up to a standing position. She often does not need me to repeat it.

Maybe that is helpful. Repetition and repeated talking about what to do makes a new connection in her brain. I often repeat the ABC song in my head to find alphabetical order. The sing-song about the months never stuck with me. So, the connection does not always happen.

Memory loss is discouraging to the care partner. Memory loss is mostly unknown to the parkie that has it. It shows up constantly. — Who put these papers here? Why is someone messing with my papers? Those little girls are always playing with my papers. I better put my papers in my office and close the door. Substitute any valid noun for papers. She puts on two pairs of socks because she forgot to take one pair off before putting a clean pair on.

It (memory loss) destroys any planning skills. The holiday season is next week we better start making cookies. I don’t know why they keep moving the months around. When I see the doctor next week I want to talk about my medicines. (It is a December appointment.) Sometimes anger appears because people keep changing things around.

Fortunately not all parkies experience this memory thing.

Carpe Diem.