Tuesday’s Caregiving Tips – Barefoot Lily Lady

A-Z Caregiving Tips (P & Q)

Here’s the next in a series of Tuesday’s Caregiving Tips posts inspired by A-Z Caregiving Tips (an article in Alzheimer’s Today pictured below). A diagnosis of cognitive impairment or memory loss presents caregiving challenges, each as varied as the person experiencing it. Alzheimer’s was the diagnosis that spelled memory loss for my sweet mom. You can read my previous posts for my personal tips on A – O. Today I am sharing my thoughts about “P” and “Q.” Thanks for stopping by to read my blog. Readers, you are most welcome (and encouraged) to share your own tips and observations about dementia caregiving in the comments below.

If the generation before me said, “Mind your p’s and q’s”, it was usually said in a firm tone of voice. It meant be polite and mind your manners–it might also mean to watch your language. Today we have come to the letters ‘P’ and ‘Q’ in our alphabet-inspired suggestions for dealing with loved ones with dementia. Both letters speak to watching what we say–‘P’ encourages us to fashion our conversations in an encouraging way, and ‘Q’ reminds us to omit certain words in order to help our loved one avoid the embarrassment of not being able to remember a person or specific event. Both are equally valuable tools in the toolbox for good caregiver communication.

Please affirm what I contributed and still do contribute.

I feel like I’ve covered this in previous posts, but it probably can’t be overstated. For as long as my sweet Momma was able, it was important to let her tell and retell her stories of her years as a nurse. The day would come when she could no longer recount those stories. At that point, it became my turn to tell her the stories I remembered her telling me. One such conversation went something like this:

Momma, I remember when the whole city of Milwaukee was snowed in and you stayed at the hospital and worked three days in a row because no one could get to work on the deep, snow-drifted roads. Then someone gave you a ride home on a snowmobile. First, you had them take you to the grocery store so you could buy your family food to eat, then he took you the rest of the way home. I remember that, even though you were very tired, you fixed us supper, then slept for a very long time.

Momma would tell and retell the story of her watch.

The story was actually a confabulation — a mixture of truth and her own version of the truth. As a nurse, she had always worn a watch with a sweep-second hand so she could take pulses the old-fashioned way. Momma still liked to wear the last watch she owned as a nurse. There came a day when neither story lingered in her mind. It was my turn to point to her watch and help her recapture that story, if only for a moment.

Oh, how my mom loved to work with children–her own and the children of others. In addition to being a very involved mom, she was also a leader of a local Brownie troop. Later, she would work for many years as the secretary for the Awana girls’ club. Her grandchildren adored her. No doubt the open-fridge policy had something to do with their love of spending time at their grandparents’ home, but their teenage years were nurtured and fed in more ways that food because mom and dad gave each of them a housekey and made sure they knew they were always welcome.

For my part, I loved to reminisce with mom about some of the special ways she blessed our family. I would show her photos of some of the fun times she had when working with kids in the Awana program.

One way I helped mom feel like she was still contributing something valuable was by inviting families with young children to come and share a meal with us. I would tell mom that the kids were hoping she’d teach them something about coloring, or help them with a hard puzzle. She delighted in those times around the kitchen table. As they colored, she’d proffer her wisdom in how to hold the crayon or colored pencil in such a way as to shade the color onto the paper evenly. If she was working on a puzzle with her little friends, she’d share a tip and demonstrate how to put puzzle pieces in color groupings to make it easier to find the piece needed.

Quit quizzing me with Who, What, Where and When questions. I would add Why to the questions we needn’t ask.

In the earliest stages of Alzheimer’s, mom seemed to struggle with the Who questions the most, followed by Where. Names which had been familiar would drop off her radar. As I spent more time with my mom, I learned not to ask her who she had lunch with on Sunday, or who taught the discipleship class she attended. As the names of family started to slip, I learned to slip the name of the person we were with into the conversation so that mom could be reminded of the name.

For instance, as her neighbor and friend, Gisela, was approaching to have a chat with mom in the front yard, I’d greet Gisela by name. Later in the conversation, I’d say something like, “So, Gisela, you and mom have lived in this neighborhood together for over 50 years, haven’t you?” Then the conversation could continue with mom and Gisela reminiscing about old times.

Minding our p’s and q’s in dementia caregiving helps ensure a smoother passage on the labyrinthian road in life marked by memory loss. Thus far in medical research, there are no fixes for this formidable detour of the mind. Caregivers with a well-equipped “caregiving toolbox” can bring roadside assistance and a little extra joy along the way.

Alzheimer’s – A Broken Filing System

What happens when you want to remember something, but absolutely know you won’t? You write it down. For the individual experiencing short term memory loss, lists sometimes become a source of frustration. A caregiving daughter shares her view on helping her momma remember, while guarding her fragile dignity.

One of mom’s little notes…I was considered one of the “workers.”

Journal entry from June 7, 2016

Quite often these days, Momma will ask me to buy her a notebook the next time I go to the store, declaring that she can never find any paper on which to write her lists. I know for a fact that she has umpteen notebooks and pads of paper squirreled away all over her apartment home.

Mom is at what her doctor calls the “moderate stage” of dementia where she is keenly aware that she is losing her ability to recall information and is trying her hardest to keep random pieces of information that won’t stay filed away in her brain in a place where she can easily retrieve them. Her lists are her safety net helping her capture not only her to-do list, but the stray thoughts, ideas, and necessities of life.

She’s enjoying a photo album which has lots of captions written in the margins. Underneath, you can see her clipboard with a few of her important pages of notes.

Once in awhile, mom asks me to take her shopping. Shopping excursions to Walmart or Walgreens invariably result in Mom tossing a new package of legal pads or a brightly colored spiral bound notebook into her shopping cart. She insists she is all out of them and there is no convincing her otherwise. Rather than bringing a sense of order to her world, the multiplicity of lists bring chaos to her sense of order as she tries in vain to gather her thoughts into one place.

I have since gathered most of those notepads/books into one cabinet in her apartment. One thing is certain–she has no need for more notepads. Rather, under her watchful eye, I acquiesce to mom’s request and jot down a note for myself on a shopping list, assuring her I will purchase a notebook for her on my next trip to the store.

This whiteboard was one way we tried to help her gather her thoughts.

You may be wondering, why not tell her the truth? Why the charade? Why not just tell her that she has plenty of notebooks? Right or wrong, I believe I am honoring my mom when I later “find” one of her notebooks and we can cross the “notebook for Mom” off my list. It gives mom the fleeting pleasure of having one of her requests granted, and I receive the gratification of pleasing my mother and guarding her fragile dignity.

A-Z Caregiving Tips (N & O)

Here’s the next in a series of Tuesday’s Caregiving Tips posts inspired by A-Z Caregiving Tips (an article in Alzheimer’s Today pictured below). A diagnosis of cognitive impairment or memory loss presents caregiving challenges, each as varied as the person experiencing it. Alzheimer’s was the diagnosis that spelled memory loss for my sweet mom. You can read my previous posts for my personal tips on A – M. Today I am sharing my thoughts about “N” and will add my own “O,” since the article did not address that particular letter. Thanks for stopping by to read my blog – the “likes” and “comments” of my readers feed my motivation to write.

N – Note that I take your words literally, so avoid teasing and sarcasm.

In the early stage of memory loss, mom would sometimes take “just kidding” comments quite literally. Likewise, when mom reached what was thought to be the stage of “moderately severe” memory loss, it seemed that her ability to understand and appreciate sarcastic humor and irony disappeared too. This was especially noticeable in social “table talk” situations.

Mom enjoying putting together puzzles (3 in one evening!) with the help of her grandson Matt and her great-granddaughters Mia and Noelle. Puzzles were helpful in guiding enjoyable conversations with mom.

Teasing and sarcasm are part and parcel of family gatherings such as Thanksgiving. We like to tell stories on one another and kid each other about silly things we’ve done lately. We sometimes use tongue in cheek jesting during our bantering around the table. Mom always had a quiet sense of humor–she would appreciate a good joke, but usually was not the one to tell it. She’d smile at the kids. But now, while she herself could often say something witty, there was no understanding of the “punch line” to someone else’s joke and a blank look at any attempt at humor.

Turning off the humor at the table isn’t the answer, but understanding how our loved one with dementia might be processing the conversation can be helpful in making the conversation inclusive for them too. Our bigger family dinners (e.g. Thanksgiving and birthdays) were the most confusing for my sweet mom. She would sometimes leave the table and go to the quietness of her room. When that would happen, family would go in an visit her one on one. She enjoyed that experience much more.

Another helpful tactic was to do something mom enjoyed at the table. Working on a puzzle or coloring became a unifying factor in conversation for her.

O – Own up to your mistakes in caregiving, but don’t beat yourself up about them. Mercy is new every morning.

I freely admit to making a lot of mistakes in caregiving. I recall days when my voice carried more than a little annoyance in it and harsh words would fly. Days when I was anxious and weary and my facial expressions did not communicate Christ-like love and compassion. There were times when I would confuse mom by asking if she remembered something when I knew full well that she couldn’t–or, similarly, when I would expect her to remember something we had already talked about. One of the hidden grace gifts of Alzheimer’s is that momma wouldn’t stay hurt and mad at me for long. She would soon forget my blunders and I would have another opportunity for a do-over in caregiving.

Likewise, in other relationships, there were times when I did not express my appreciation freely enough. I’m thinking of a time when I made my sister feel bad about how she handled a caregiving situation, rather than being gracious and knowing she did what she thought was best when she was taking a turn at caring for our mom. It’s sometimes easier to see the mistakes and failure of others than it is to see the same problem in our own lives.

It’s a wonderful thing for me as a believer in Christ to know that His steadfast love for me will never cease. Never. Ever. His mercy will never come to an end. Never. Ever. I praise God for His faithfulness in providing a daily (constant) supply of love and mercy. Knowing and believing the truth expressed in Lamentations 3:22-24 helped me through many times when I felt like a dismal failure as a caregiving daughter.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” (Lamentations 3:22–24)

A-Z Caregiving Tips (M)

Written with love and great admiration for all those who are caring for a loved one who is facing Alzheimer’s or any other diagnosis that spells memory loss. I write from my experience of caring for my sweet mother in her later years with Alzheimer’s.

Here’s the next in a series of posts inspired by A-Z Caregiving Tips (pictured below). A diagnosis of cognitive impairment or memory loss presents caregiving challenges, each as varied as the person experiencing it. Alzheimer’s was the diagnosis that spelled memory loss for my sweet mom. You can read my previous posts for my tips on A – L. It seems I have a lot to say about “M,” so I will focus on that for this week.

Make new ways I can be of service to others

Mom was a nurse. A dedicated and amazing nurse. Even after she retired from her long career in nursing, she still practiced nursing in an unofficial way as she came alongside family and friends as they went through their physical trials in life. She was dad’s constant companion whenever he faced any of his cancers and surgeries. She served her friends as the requisite driver and responsible party when those friends faced day surgeries of various types. If someone was hospitalized, she was almost always one of the first visitors. Several of her friends had her come along to their surgeon’s or oncologist’s office when they were going to receive their scary diagnosis. Mom knew just the right questions to ask and how to help her friends through the difficult days ahead.

The time came when Mom was the patient with symptoms of short-term memory loss. I’m sure she knew something was amiss long before I started noticing memory blips. Who knows how many years she wrestled with that knowledge alone? Based upon dated notes and lists I found here and there, I would say for a few years.

Although Mom forgot many things, the experiences of her lifetime still served as a guide in her daily interactions. Even after mom moved in with me and then later into assisted living memory care, I routinely saw the nurse in mom present when she’d notice someone wasn’t feeling well and then do her best to make sure they were cared for appropriately.

Momma lovingly putting her “babies” to bed

She usually couldn’t remember she was my mom, but I saw the loving mother in her displayed in the way she cared for dolls. It was like a special window into her past which allowed me the privilege of seeing what she may have been like when she mothered me as a baby. (Mom and me in this photo.)

Let me share just a few photos of her doing things which made her feel useful during her years spent living with dementia.

I’m thinking now of a resident at the assisted living memory care home where my mom lived for her last 14 months of life. June was usually the first one up every morning. She took very seriously her job of raising the window shades at the start of the day. The staff would then present her with a large basket filled with freshly laundered clothing protectors (bibs) and towels. June took great pride in folding them.

My mom would do the same thing when she was living with us for a few years. She loved to fold laundry, especially when it was warm out of the dryer. The warmth felt good on her arthritic hands. She would also dry dishes for us. Her legs were unsteady, so I would set her up with everything she needed at her place at the kitchen table. Mom had also been into gardening, so I would occasionally try to get her outdoors to help me. She especially enjoyed deadheading and cutting back spent foliage. Her specialty, however, was sweeping. She couldn’t stand to see even one leaf on the deck or porch, so we’d arm her with a broom and she’d happily sweep for quite some time.

I can’t talk about this subject without thinking of Heather, an amazing blogger I follow who cared for her sweet mother too. Heather’s mum, Margaret, had been an artist, so Heather would play to her mum’s interests and strengths by creating art therapy projects for her to work on throughout the day. They even opened an Etsy shop in order to sell some of her ‘Made by Mum’ projects, donating a portion of their profit to the Alzheimer’s Society. Heather’s amazing website Creative Carer is filled with photos and tutorials, a link to her very helpful and inspiring blog, and oodles of practical ideas for caregivers who desire to keep their loved one meaningfully engaged.

A-Z Caregiving Tips (J, K & L)

I write from my experience of caring for my sweet mother in her later years with Alzheimer’s. I hope that what I write will be an encouragement to those who are caring for someone they love.

Before you read this post, you might want read the A-Z Caregiving Tips (pictured below) which inspired me to write about my own experience related to these tips.

A diagnosis of cognitive impairment or memory loss presents caregiving challenges, each as varied as the person experiencing it. Alzheimer’s was the diagnosis that spelled memory loss for my sweet mom. I have already presented my experience with tips A – I, so let’s move right on to my take on J, K & L.

J just redirect me pleasantly if I keep repeating myself.

When memory loss becomes apparent to family and friends, it’s the repetition of stories which oftentimes raises the warning flag that something is amiss. Mom had several stories that would frequently replay. There was one she would tell about why she loves ice cream. Other repetitious stories related to how she acquired some of the items she owned, including three blue flowerpots and a purple tablecloth. I loved each of the stories and, as I mentioned in my last post, now I wish I had recorded her telling them.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with telling family stories around the dinner table. We all do it. It’s one of the best parts of gathering around the table for a shared meal. But, when the same story keeps looping during the same meal, that’s when things get a little tricky. It’s easy to hurt our loved ones by saying, “You already told me that a hundred times, Mom!” We’re tempted to roll our eyes and inwardly groan, “Oh no! Here we go again.”

That is where the art of pleasant redirection comes into play. In the world of dementia caregiving, there are many opportunities to practice this act of gently helping a forgetful loved one refocus their attention on something else.

My granddaughter provided one of the best examples of gentle redirection that I have ever seen. My mom found my to-do list on the kitchen table. Thinking it was her own list, mom kept reading the list over and over again, worrying about getting it all done. Violet (who was probably 12 years old at the time) brought a photo album to the table and sat next to her great-grandmother. In one stealth move, Violet opened the photo album and placed it in front of her GGma as she simultaneously slid the list away from view. Then she started paging through the album and talking about the photos. My Mom’s worries melted away and she was immediately engaged in this new direction of thought.

In fact, photo albums and picture books are one of the greatest tools in the toolbox of dementia redirection.

Sometimes, mom would ask the same question repeatedly. One such question had to do with her finances–something she couldn’t handle on her own anymore, but continued to worry about. My husband handled her finances for her and greatly helped alleviate this worry by creating a single page monthly statement which listed all of her financial bottom-line numbers in one place. Mom could read this over and over to her heart’s content. [I explained more about this in Alzheimer’s and Money Worries, which may be of help to anyone going through this stage with a loved one.] If mom was having a fretful moment about money, we could hand her this statement, which we kept on a clipboard. She would sit and read (and re-read) it for a very long while and would often comment about how helpful it was to her.

K Know that closing my eyes may be me trying to find my words.

Word finding is one of the earlier struggles I noticed in my mom’s journey with Alzheimer’s. It’s a problem I am wrestling with these days too. I have noticed that when I am struggling to figure out which word I want to use during a conversation, my family and friends will often provide the word for me during my long pause. Most of the time I appreciate the help; other times it just deepens my awareness and the inkling I have that my later years of life are headed in the same direction of memory loss that my mom experienced.

In fact, photo albums and picture books are one of the greatest tools in the toolbox of dementia redirection.

I don’t remember mom closing her eyes when she was trying to think of what she was going to say–at least not in the earlier stages. I remember that she would avert her eyes upwards and away, as if she was searching the corners of her mind for what she wanted to say. I do this too. I have also noticed something in my own pause to search for the words. By the time I’m ready to add my words to table talk conversation, the direction of the conversation has moved on to something else. It’s frustrating, but it reminds me of something important when engaging in conversation with my memory-challenged friends at my workplace. Don’t be in such a rush–wait for them to answer.

L Listen with me to music and dance tunes.

Mom would rather sit quietly and read a book or magazine than dance or listen to music. It’s not that mom didn’t like music; rather, her hearing deficit made listening to music more than a little bit challenging. While this point doesn’t apply much to my mom, it does bring to mind my work place. I work as a baker in an assisted living memory care home and am sometimes surprised by the music being played in the background for our residents. Sometimes I think the music chosen reflects the preference of the caregiver on duty, rather than the tastes of the generation being served.

The other thing I’ve noticed is that the radio or television in our care home is oftentimes playing too softly. The younger folks who work as the caregivers don’t seem to take into account the need for extra volume in this older population. Nor do we pay enough attention to what is being broadcast on the television in our common spaces. It’s much better, for instance, to choose a classic movie from the era in which these folks lived, rather than a talk show featuring four women arguing their views. Better (in my opinion) to choose a nature show over a scary, blood and guts movie.

Don’t get me wrong–our care home is fantastic and is blessed with a number of great caregivers. But, there is one caregiver who I find to be absolutely delightful. She will put on music the residents love and engage in a little song and dance. She’ll even make up her own tune or sing a familiar jingle, even if she’s just passing through the room on her way to her next task. If they’re having an exercise class, she’ll join in and spread her own brand of love, laughter, song and encouragement. Marnie makes the residents smile (and me too).

The world of memory care caregivers needs more Marnies.

A-Z Caregiving Tips (H & I)

Now that she is no longer here to tell her stories, how I wish I had recorded her voice as she reminisced about her life, and how I wish I had written down those stories she shared. Her stories were part of my life’s story too.

Before you read my post, you might want to take a peek below and read the list of A-Z Caregiving Tips which inspired me to share my own experience related to these tips.

H Hear my stories from long ago attentively.

I treasure the rocking chair my husband bought for me in celebration of the birth of our first child. When I walk past it, I sometimes run my hand across the back of the chair and give it a gentle nudge to rock. Sweet memories of rocking my children to sleep or to soothe their tears come to the forefront of my memory. Funny thing is, as often as I rocked my babies, I don’t remember when the last time was that I rocked them. That’s because it happened when I didn’t see it coming.

Photo albums sometimes prompted some of mom’s many stories–some true, some a confabulated combination of true events and a good imagination.

Similarly, there came a time when my sweet mother told each of her oft-repeated stories from her childhood for the last time. It was so easy to tune them out over time because I had heard them so many times. I find grace in knowing that I really was tired and trying to juggle too many things, but oh how I now wish I had taken more time to listen with my heart. Now that she is no longer here to tell her stories, how I wish I had recorded her voice as she reminisced about her life, and how I wish I had written down more of the stories she shared. Her stories were part of my life’s story too.

I Invite me along on community and church gatherings.

Just as the stories our loved ones tell will one day come to an end, so too will their desire to be social. I’m so glad I carved out time to take my mother on a few road-trips “home” to visit her family in West Virginia and Ohio.

Only God knows the measure of our days.

Even though she was in the early stages of memory loss, traveling with her wasn’t easy, but the effort was rewarded many times over as I observed her quiet joy as she spent time with her family (and mine).

Mom was a woman of faith who served the Lord with gladness as long as she was able. The day did come in the fall of 2015 when, for safety sake, I needed to take her car away (I didn’t earn any popularity awards with that decision). Mom’s need for fellowship with her church family was still strong, so I’m thankful for Mom’s friend Jean, who would take mom to church with her whenever Mom was willing and ready. Mom’s ability to measure time and take cues from what was written on her calendar gradually disappeared late in 2015. Sadly, when Mom’s ability to remember the names of even her closest friends diminished, so too did her desire to attend church. Her “last day” attending church happened when we weren’t expecting it either.

Love this picture of mom saying, “Say CHEESE!”

While mom no longer had the desire to go places, I noticed there was still a glimmer of joy when people would come to visit. I soon discovered that the most loving thing I could do for her was to invite family and friends in. Just a few at a time, so as not to overwhelm her.

Mom enjoyed the times when all three of us kids were able to be with her. She didn’t remember the visit for long, and it would usually tucker her out, but the momentary joy was worth the extra effort of finagling Brad’s wheelchair into the house.

Her church family was fantastic – she loved the visits from her pastors and friends who would stop by. Her eyes would light up when her grandchildren (and especially her great-grandchildren) would come for a visit. One granddaughter would bring dinner and her family every Sunday night. One grandson came every chance he could, bringing his girls with him. All of the visiting grands and great-grands would spend time doing whatever she enjoyed: coloring, sorting colorful buttons, working a puzzle a half-dozen times, and such. My sister Vivian would come every other weekend or so to help me out, sometimes bringing her youngest son. Mom dearly loved her family, even if she didn’t always comprehend that we were her family.

My encouragement to fellow caregivers is to make sure you make room for family and friends as often as you can.

We rarely know when time spent with a loved one is the last time. Last times happen in life when we aren’t looking. Only God knows the measure of our days.

Memories of Mom

Tuesday’s Caregiving Tip: Keep a journal of those special moments with your loved one.

To my fellow caregiving friends who are still in the hustle and bustle of caring for a loved one with dementia, be sure to take time to write down those special moments. I wish I had kept an actual chronological handwritten journal, but am so glad I blogged and took photos…and posted cute stuff on Facebook.

I moved in with mom for a period of about 9 months. It seemed long and tedious in the midst of it, but just a tiny blip on the radar of life in retrospect. I’m glad I posted this fun memory on Facebook and hope it will bring a smile to someone’s face today.

Me and my landlady

A-to-Z Caregiving Tips (F-G)

This is the third in a series of posts inspired by an article from Alzheimer’s TODAY called Tiny Gifts That Are TREMENDOUS, where Mary Kay Baum shared a helpful A-to-Z list of caregiving suggestions Thus far, I have given you my spin on A-B-C and my thoughts as a caregiver regarding D-E. Let me invite you to join me this week for F and G as I share how these excellent tips have played out in my own caregiving journey.

Thus far, I have given you my spin on A-B-C and my thoughts as a caregiver regarding D-E. Let me invite you to join me this week for F and G as I share how these excellent tips have played out in my own caregiving journey. [Click here to read the original article].

Fear not if I take a break from commotion.

We were celebrating a birthday at our house. Mom sat at her place at the table and enjoyed watching the festivity and seeing a few of her great-grandchildren. Though she didn’t contribute much to the conversation, my heart was warmed by her smile as she watched the birthday boy bask in the attention. After the candles were blown out and the cake was served, mom quietly stood up with the help of her walker and then scootched down the hall the short distance to her room. She was done with company. And that was okay.

On a previous occasion, when mom was living in a senior apartment, the residents were hosting Trick-or-Treat for the neighborhood kiddos. During our city’s Trick-or-Treat hours the residents gathered in their activity room and waited for the steady stream of costumed guests. I thought mom would enjoy seeing all of the kids and handing out candy with all of the other seniors in her building. She stayed for a few minutes, then went back to her apartment; it was just too much for her. I had invited a few kids from church to come to the event. When they arrived, I invited them to visit mom in her apartment. Mom enjoyed the smaller gathering so much more.

During this phase of her journey with Alzheimer’s it became my mission to keep her engaged by inviting people to see her. One or two people would join us for lunch; another day someone might come over to say hi and work a puzzle or engage with her by sitting with her at the table coloring. One family from church brought us pizza for supper one evening, then stayed for a bit so the girls could sort through a jar of buttons with mom.

Go with me and others on quiet nature walks.

Truth is, in the later stages of dementia, most days it was nearly impossible to get my mother outside of the house for a little fresh air. It was a treat when it happened.

If the weather was nice and I could coax mom outside, I’d get her seated in a wheelchair and push her to our neighborhood park.

She enjoyed watching the children play at the splash park, seeing dogs being walked along the pathways, and would occasionally engage a perfect stranger in conversation.

We didn’t stay long, as the charm of our outdoor excursion would soon be replaced by the fear of being able to find our way home. By the time I got her back in the house, she had already forgotten our little trip. Even though it was forgotten, the benefits of the fresh air and the infusion of joy would linger in her demeanor.

One day, out of the blue, mom wanted to “check the mail,” so I let her go outdoors with her walker. She enjoyed that little trek down to the curb and back.

Since she was in a good mood, dressed decently, and it was nearly dinner time, we decided to put her in the car and go for a drive to the nearest Culver’s for supper.

She thoroughly enjoyed every bit of it…especially the frozen custard.

Once my mom made the move to assisted living memory care, getting her out of the front door was even more rare. This photo shows one of those sweet occasions when her great-granddaughter Violet managed to get her outside to sit on a shaded patio.

As Alzheimer’s continued its relentless march claiming bits and pieces of my mom’s brain, it was evident that mom’s world was shrinking right along with her memory. All too soon there came a day when the world outside of Mom’s front door became too scary of a place for her to venture.

That was the day when “go with me” became “be with me.”

A-to-Z Caregiving Tips (D-E)

We call them caregivers. Some caregivers are paid to do the job (and I’m SO thankful for them), but most are not financially compensated.

They just care. And give.

I hope my second article will be an encouragement to caregivers. My little series is based upon an article from Alzheimer’s TODAY called Tiny Gifts That Are TREMENDOUS, where Mary Kay Baum shared a helpful A-to-Z list of caregiving suggestions [Click here to read the original article]. My caregiver friends, come along with me as I share how these tips played out in my own caregiving journey. Last week I gave you my spin on A-B-C; this week, I’ll share my thoughts regarding D-E.

Do mention your name, looking at me.

One day I was helping my mom look for her checkbook (a frequent activity in the mid-stages of Alzheimer’s). As I sifted through the contents of her purse, I pulled out a list of names. Taking a closer look, I could see that the names were those of some of her closest friends at church. Each name was written out several times, as if she were practicing, trying to cement the names in her mind. I could imagine my mom sitting in her Bible study trying so hard to recall the names of people she had known for years.

It was during this period of time that I realized just how much mom was struggling with the names of the people she knew and loved. In retrospect, it was probably the reason she began declining invitations to social events and had not been regular in her church attendance.

One way we tried to help my mom was to create laminated photo cards which listed the names of the people in the photo and how they were connected with mom. I would get that photo out for her when that individual came for a visit. It helped mom save face by prompting her with the visual cue she needed to remember the names of her guests. As her dementia progressed, she just liked carrying all of her laminated cards around in her purse and seemed to enjoy sorting them and reading the captions.

ENJOY quiet times with me like reading to me.

Reading to my mom was a bit tricky. She was pretty hard of hearing, but I’m so proud of my grandkids (her greats) who did their best to include their great-grandma by reading with her. My youngest grandson George was amazingly good at this. He knew how to put on his loud voice and would snuggle up to her and look at books with her whenever he would visit.

Mom and Kathryn ‘puzzling’

Mom had a special spot at our kitchen table. Whenever the great-grands would come, they would try to do something at the table. Sometimes she’d join in the fun, other times she would just watch.

I’m not going to lie. Having a front-row seat to the heartbreak associated with mom’s onset and advancement of dementia was a hard place to be, but I’m glad I had the opportunity to be a blessing to her during that time. My bank of memories is full to the brim with more special moments than difficulties.

As dementia progresses, the ability to interpret the words written on the page becomes more difficult. Since mom enjoyed coloring, we purchased adult coloring books with simple devotional thoughts and Bible messages so that mom could continue to read. Members of the family also created photo albums with brief descriptive captions–she truly enjoyed looking through those too. Those same photo albums gave less familiar friends and paid caregivers something to do with her too–a connection and something to talk about and enjoy together.

It is my hope and dream that by sharing my own experiences – the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful – someone else will be encouraged in their life as a caregiver. Sometimes, sharing just one caregiving idea will give another caregiver the hope that they can DO this hard thing.

For more helpful information about Alzheimer’s please visit:

A-to-Z Caregiving Tips (A, B & C)

The Alzheimer’s Foundation of America puts out a fine publication aimed at providing helpful information for those who love and care for others with Alzheimer’s disease and other types of dementia including vascular dementia (what my brother has), Lewy Body dementia, Parkinson’s, alcohol-induced dementia, and others. Their purpose is stated in this way:

Mission: To provide support, services and education to individuals, families and caregivers affected by Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias nationwide, and fund research for better treatment and a cure.
Alzheimer’s Foundation of America

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you know I have a similar mission or purpose in writing. In addition to sharing the fun stuff in life that comes from my joy in barefoot gardening, grandkids, and following Christ, I have a deep desire to encourage those who are in the trenches of caring for a loved one or friend with Alzheimer’s. We call them caregivers. Some caregivers are paid to do the job (and I’m SO thankful for them), but most are not financially compensated.

They just care. And give.

Today, I’m sharing an article from Alzheimer’s TODAY which should be of great help to ALL caregivers. Tiny Gifts That Are TREMENDOUS is a thoughtfully written A-to-Z list of caregiving suggestions compiled by Mary Kay Baum of Time for Us Camp in Dodgeville, WI. [Click to access Alz.-Today-Vol.-15-No.-4-LR.pdf]

This article resonated with me. As I read each point the article made, I could think of several examples from my own caregiving journey with my mother. Over the next few weeks, with the permission of Alzheimer’s TODAY, I plan to share a few of the things I learned along the way. It is my hope and dream that by sharing my own experiences – the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful – someone else will be encouraged in their life as a caregiver. Sometimes, just one unexpected word of encouragement can help someone have the courage to keep going. Sometimes, sharing just one caregiving idea will give another caregiver the hope that they can DO this hard thing.

So, caregivers everywhere, come along with me as I share how these tips played out in my own caregiving journey. We’ll start with ABC.

APPROACH me from the front and avoid startling me.

Gracious, this is so important! Many people do not realize that as the brain deteriorates, the field of vision and the ability to interpret what is in that field of vision becomes increasingly limited. I learned early on to approach my mom slowly from the front. Swooping in from the side, or reaching around her from the back, even if it was just to give her a hug, would cause her to jump. When she was frightened, she was less likely to be cooperative and sometimes even became combative. When mom entered into assisted living, those who followed this guideline had greater success in encouraging her to take medications, get dressed, eat…whatever. Those who would approach from the side and hurriedly shove a cupful of meds or a spoonful of food into her mouth could almost count on resistance.

BEND DOWN or sit down near me if I am in a wheelchair.

Even if a loved one is not in a wheelchair, no one likes to be hovered over. In addition to being seated in a wheelchair, imagine trying to understand what is being communicated when your field of vision is so small. Before you read any further, please put your hands in front of you. Next, touch the tips of each thumb and each index finger (the pointer) together. Your hands have created a small circle. Now, put your eyes up to that circle and look through that small circle. That, my friend, is the field of vision through which the typical person afflicted with Alzheimer’s interprets their world. Let that little exercise, imperfect as it is, inform the way you approach your loved one.

My mom needed to see my smiling face, read my lips and facial expressions, and observe my actions. I would try to have lunch with her every day that she was in assisted living. Mom had a tendency to wander away from the table during meals. Having me there eating with her helped her stay at the table and gave her the visual and social cues she needed to eat.

CALL my name gently and with a smile.

I’m notorious for talking to my husband from the other room, or worse yet, as I’m walking away from him. It’s a bad habit – lazy on my part, and disrespectful, actually. Precious caregivers, we can NOT do that with those who have Alzheimer’s.

We need to practice the art of getting close and putting a gentle smile on our face as we speak to our loved ones. When I needed my mom’s attention, she needed to hear AND see me say her name. A smile made communication more pleasant for both of us. Mom could read frustration on my face even when she could not hear my voice well (she was profoundly hard of hearing). I could save both of us frustration by just remembering the ABC’s.

Approach her from the front
Bend down or sit near her (get my smiling face in her field of vision), and
Call her name gently.

For more helpful information about Alzheimer’s please visit: