We’re back from our Hawaiian adventure with Mia. What a grand adventure.
Now I am settling back into the comfort of life’s routine. Sleeping in my own bed with my favorite pillow. Spending Sunday with our church family. Doing laundry in my own washing machine and not having to put $7.00 worth of quarters into the machine for each load!
Today I slept in until my body woke me up….and was almost late for work. It brought me joy being in BeeHive’s kitchen baking up treats for our residents again (many thanks to Karen who filled in for me while I was away).
In the midst of my baking joy, my heart remembered that my journey with BeeHive began 5 years ago today. March 25, 2019 was the day I accepted the help of BeeHive in caring for my mother in her journey Home with Alzheimer’s.
Facebook confirmed that memory with two reminisce posts. Many of my friends and family were praying as I moved Momma out of my home and into her new bedroom at BeeHive. We arrived just in time for lunch. While mom and I ate lunch, Wayne and Beth moved mom’s things into her new room, setting it up much like her bedroom in my home. After lunch, I walked mom into her new space and she settled right in and was soon napping.
I sat in her room watching her sleep for a bit, then met with Gina to go over some move-in details. When we were finished, I was not quite sure what to do with myself. I wrote about that here…
Momma would live here for the last 14 months of her sojourn on earth. Here she would be loved and cared for with the level of care I could not provide. She had friends around her, good food, fun activities, someone to help her every hour of the day or night, and someone to help her to shower (something I couldn’t offer her at my house).
Placing her in assisted living memory care was a hard decision. And the right decision.
When my journey on earth is drawing to a close, I hope and pray that I will have the same attitude of heart as my friend Kathy. Even though she was going through immense physical trials, she exhibited what I believe should be the hallmark of every believer – a satisfied soul.
Kathy didn’t know why God allowed this painful trial, but she trusted He had a plan. Kathy didn’t beg for mercy from the trial. My sister in Christ implored God to show mercy to those she loved who were still without Christ. Her Jesus loving heart desired nothing more than for God to be glorified in her, by life or by death.
May I live my life as Kathy did – eager to know the Lord better today than I did yesterday. May I be as generous with the resources God has entrusted to my care, investing what I have in the kingdom.
Tonight happens to be my friend Kathy’s third anniversary in heaven, and I’m listening to the lovely music of Keith and Kristin Getty. One song in particular just washed over my soul and made me think about Kathy’s testimony.
Keith & Kristyn Getty – My Worth Is Not In What I Own featuring Fernando Ortega (Official Lyric Video)
If you are a caregiver for a loved one with dementia (or some other form of life-altering illness), there may come a day when you realize you need to consider other options for providing the best care. Perhaps the post that follows will be helpful as you wrestle with that important decision.
Joining my friends at Six on Saturday for some garden-related photos and fun. There’s not a whole lot going on my December garden–nothing that merits taking photos, anyway. There’s not even a trace of snow to photograph. Rather than bore you with photos of brown stuff, I thought I’d finish up a post I started way back in April, but never posted.
That’s true, although, it helped that we flew this time. But spending time with Melinda, my fellow gardener and friend, is always a treat and well worth the miles.
One fine day in October, I took a lovely morning stroll with Melinda through LSU Ag Center gardens. Proven Winners (my favorite purveyors of all things growing) has trial gardens here. Weather in Louisiana this summer sure put the flowers to the ultimate test of heat and “exceptional drought” conditions. Summer in October was waning, but the heat still packed a punch that day with temps flirting with 90°F by early afternoon.
‘Blue My Mind’ is a dwarf morning glory in an intense shade of blue, which looked exceptionally lovely as a front of the border ground cover.
Oh how I hope this Celosia becomes available in Zone 5! Such pretty purples!
The extreme drought conditions in the south were definitely the ultimate challenge. There were a few places throughout the numerous flowerbeds where I noticed that their drip irrigation system was not functioning properly. Plants in those gardens suffered accordingly, as was proven by plant tags with crispy plants, or no plants at all. But this bed of “Louisiana Super Plants” fared well and looked gorgeous.
I am joining Jim and my gardening friends worldwide for a little Six on Saturday garden update. Wisconsin has been slow on the draw declaring it Spring, but I think it’s finally arrived. Spring has sprung in all its tulip, daffodil, and flowering tree wonderfulness. So, come along with me for a little tour of six(-ish) things happening in my garden–then hop on the virtual garden club tour bus via Jim’s blog at https://gardenruminations.co.uk/2023/05/13/six-on-saturday-13-5-2023/ and wander through a few more gardens.
Facebook occasionally reminds me of things I wrote in my pre-blogging days. It’s hard to believe that six years have passed since I wrote “Caring for the Caregiver,” a post born out of my personal experience in being the primary family caregiver for my sweet mother.
It is my prayer that this photo-filled memory of mine will inspire many to look for ways to love on caregivers “with actions and in truth.”
Mom is so focused on her coloring. I’ve been sitting at the table with her as she colored for the past few hours. I just stood up to move a bit and she looked up and said in a tone of surprise, “Oh hi! When did you get here?” Sad, but sweet. Today I’ve been her mom. When I told her it was time to put her coloring away and get ready for bed, she stalled and pouted just like a child. “But I’m not tired! You always make me quit when I’m having fun!”
Cindie’s Caregiving Journal, February 11, 2018
There are those who wonder why caregiving children speak to their memory-challenged parent like they are a child. Some also believe it to be a bit demeaning to provide child-like things for them to do as activities.
I get the concern. I’ve had that concern in the past too.
Not anymore.
Now that I have journeyed alongside my mother (who had Alzheimer’s), I totally get it.
As Alzheimer’s claimed more and more of her cognitive abilities, it seemed that mom traveled backward in time to a time when she was much younger. Toward the end, she became very childlike. She often thought I was her mom. There was no use in fighting the role reversal—it was part of the disease progression.
Like a child, mom enjoyed coloring. When I first introduced adult coloring books, her coloring was magnificent and her eye for color was impeccable. She stayed within the lines and had the art of “shading” down pat. Now, as I look through her coloring books, I can see the obvious regression in ability. In the beginning, mom would use all of her colors; toward the end, she settled in on yellow and green. In the beginning, mom’s color choices would closely approximate the true color of the object she was coloring. As the disease advanced, the coloring books I purchased for her were simpler, in keeping with her diminishing artistic abilities and instinct for color. Ultimately, in the last few months of her life, much like a child who colors everything in their favorite color, she would color everything yellow or green.
Correspondingly, mom’s behavior changed. She’d have times when she was unhappy about something and would throw a childlike tantrum. Tears, pitiful pouting face, crossed arms and all. Mom reverted to baby-like play on the floor, preferring to crawl about on the floor, rather than tootle around in her wheelchair. Like the child running out into a crowded room butt-naked, inhibitions over inappropriate public behavior goes by the wayside too.
On those days when mom thought I was her mom, I soon learned it was in mom’s best interest if I would just play that role. Putting on the soothing “mom voice” was part of it. Likewise, when encouraging her to do what needed to be done (like changing her clothing), it was necessary to communicate with her as I would with a young child or (sometimes) like a toddler, using what I’ll call “simple speak.”
So, dear reader who has never experienced the role of caregiver, please be gentle and understanding with the caregivers you know. Your caregiving friend is living in an upside-down world juggling sippy-cups, adult-size diapers and discreet diaper bags, mealtime feeding issues, and lack of good sleep. Believe me, your prayerful encouragement and friendship would mean the world to them.
Today I complete another trip around the sun. Most people get a little forgetful as they age – you know, the searching for the glasses perched on top of the head sort of thing. As I now approach the middle of my sixth decade of life, I am keenly aware that I am spending a tad bit more time looking for mislaid things, and much more time trying to figure out the names of people whose names I should remember. My sweet mom had Alzheimer’s in her later years of life, so I will confess that my own little forgetful moments cause me to think about what may be down the road for me. I suspect the day is coming when my memory will fade, and perhaps gradually vanish.
I write this post for any of my readers who are faced with loving and caring for someone they love who has heard their physician say “Alzheimer’s” when delivering a diagnosis. My dear family, I especially write these words to help you in the event that I someday hear my doctor say that dreaded word, or any other diagnosis which spells memory loss and dementia. You will likely need to make many hard decisions on my behalf – like taking away my car keys and deciding when it is time for me to live somewhere else. You were there when I made those difficult decisions on behalf of my mom and likely remember how hard that was for me. Take heart, God will give you wisdom for each decision and shed light on every step you need to take.
If I get Alzheimer’s, don’t ask me to remember; instead, reminisce and tell me stories from our past. What do you remember that we did together? Tell it again and again to me.
If I get Alzheimer’s, and I perchance do tell you a story from my past (or yours), you might want to write it down or record the story I’m telling you. I may tell you that story over and over and over again, just like your grandma did. Do you remember her talking about how she made her blue flower pots when she was in West Virginia, or how she dug the purple tablecloths out of the trash, or the stories about her wedding day? Just remember that the day will come when I will tell my story for the very last time and you will one day wish you could hear me tell it once again.
If I get Alzheimer’s, I might stubbornly refuse to bathe. The fear of bathing is the sad and stinky reality of this horrible disease. There might be a lot of fussing and crying, so let me tell you right now that, when this time comes, you might find that hiring someone to help you for a few hours a day or two a week will be just the thing.
Tip: You might also find that dryer-warmed towels, blankets and clothes will calm my anxiousness. If all else fails, those disposable washcloths you can warm in the microwave are wonderful.
If I tell you I am cold, more than likely I truly am cold. In Alzheimer’s, the part of the brain which regulates body temperature and thyroid function goes kerflooey. Rather than subject yourself to turning up the furnace year-round, when you help me get dressed, start with a soft t-shirt (like Cuddl Duds®), then add lighter layers, and keep soft blankets and throws handy.
If I get Alzheimer’s, I probably won’t remember to brush my hair. Will you please do it for me? Please use a detangling spray when you brush my mane of hair. I use a detangling brush, working from the ends and then all the way up to gently coax the tangles out. I like my hair long, but cut it short if you must. I might be mad at first, but will likely soon forget what once was.
By the way, if I tell you my hair hurts, I am not confabulating or telling a fib. When my hair gets dirty, my scalp truly hurts. It feels like bruises on my scalp, so please try to keep my hair clean. Perhaps a weekly trip to the hair salon for just a wash will be just the thing.
If I get Alzheimer’s, it might be challenging to keep me occupied, so here are some ideas for you to try. Gardening is my happy place, even if it’s just my own blue pot or three, encourage me to play in the dirt as much as I possibly can.
Donning Momma’s Gardening Hat
I also really love to work on puzzles, and might enjoy working on one with you.
Oh, and I like crafts. I once helped my grandkids create things with beads and paint; maybe, in time, it’ll be their turn to help me.
Baking was a joy to me when my mind was clear, so I might enjoy helping you in the kitchen. Even though I may be old, remember that my mind is becoming more child-like. What can a child do to help? Perhaps I can stir the batter, whisk the eggs, or pour in the bag of chocolate chips.
I could set the table, dry the dishes and wipe off the countertop. It won’t be perfect, but I will feel like I have made a contribution. It’s very important to feel useful.
If I get Alzheimer’s, remember that I’m a blue-jean wearing momma who likes pretty knit tops – ones with interesting details like ruffles on the sleeves and pretty buttons and lace. When you buy clothing for me, I suggest you buy two of each of my favorites. This will help you cope with me when I insist on wearing the same shirt over and over again. Unless you’re handy with a sewing machine, you might even want to buy two in the next size down, as those with Alzheimer’s lose interest in food as time goes on.
Perhaps you have noticed that I practically live in an apron. I wear one in the kitchen, while I’m cleaning, or when I’m gardening. If I get Alzheimer’s and the day comes when I become ‘messy momma’ at meals and perhaps need a bib, you might spare my dignity and try an apron instead. If I need to graduate to a bib, please make me some pretty ones…with lots of flowers.
If you can’t get me out of my pajamas in the morning and I stubbornly refuse to get dressed, just put on your pajamas and declare it “Pajama Day”! Conversely, if at day’s end I refuse to put on my pajamas, please remember that there’s no harm in wearing my clothes to bed. Unless the clothing is soiled, it truly isn’t worth the battle.
Dear family of mine, you know that I love the Lord with all of my heart and go to church every Sunday. If it is within God’s providential plan that I get Alzheimer’s, may I ask you to please take me with you to church for as long as I am able? It will do my heart good to gather and worship with my family and friends. One day you may find that I fidget too much or speak out of turn, then you will know it’s time for me to stay home with a caregiver while you go praise and worship our Lord, fellowship with your friends, and feed your soul. I’m God’s child and He will be near, whether I’m at church or at home, so don’t feel as though you are leaving me alone.
If I get Alzheimer’s, help me stay in touch with friends, be they old or new. I loved to have family and friends come for dinner. Much like your grandma did, I would probably enjoy company, but may get overwhelmed with crowds, so make it just a few. They may not understand what is happening to me, so gently explain before they come.
Remember how I used to take a photo of your grandma with her guests (or snag one off of Facebook), then give her the card to hang onto when her guests arrived. I would add their names and how she knew the people, then laminate the cards. It helped her remember their names. Maybe it would help me too.
If I get Alzheimer’s, please get me outside as often as you can. I always enjoyed walks in the park, so you might try that again. Push me in a wheelchair if you must, but let me enjoy nature and a bit of fresh air for as long as I’m able (and willing).
If I get Alzheimer’s, one day, you may find, I’m terribly unwilling to leave the house where I live. Going outside may become a terror, rather than a joy. If that day comes, try to create a comfy spot where I can sit near a window and enjoy the beauty of flowers and trees planted nearby, or a grandchild-painted birdhouse within view where a sparrow family might keep me occupied with their comings and goings.
Mom’s Little Patio Garden
Momma happily engaged in coloring
If I get Alzheimer’s, you might like to know that I love to listen to music and would enjoy Christian radio. But if I’m anxious, you might find instrumental piano or guitar will help me to relax. I especially enjoy listening to great hymns of the faith. You’ll find what I enjoy on my Spotify and Amazon Prime music collection.
If I get Alzheimer’s, please remember my children and grandchildren are especially dear and I hope they will visit when they are near. If they can’t come to love on me, please tell them to send me cards and sometimes include a photo for me to treasure.
If I get Alzheimer’s, I might like to carry a purse even though I don’t carry one now. When memories no longer stay tucked away in my mind, a purse might give me a handy storage space where I can pull out special memories any time I like. You might want to tuck a few of my treasures inside: little photo books filled with family (be sure to label who is who), something to color and an array of colored pencils, little books of flowers and butterflies to help me enjoy the things God made. Oh, and finding milk chocolate or a cookie in my purse would be especially nice.
If I get Alzheimer’s, the day may come when watching television is my thing. I really enjoy mysteries, but nothing super scary. Put on a gardening show or gentle children’s programming and I think I’d be content. I don’t like to watch television alone, so would you occasionally sit with me?
One more very important reminder. If I get Alzheimer’s and ever forget your name, please know that my heart still loves you and someday (sooner than you realize), the day will come when God will take me Home and make all things new, including my memory of how special you are and how very much I love you.
It’s a glorious September morning here in Wisconsin, with just a hint of autumn in the air. Entirely too gorgeous to be spending it indoors.
It would be a great day to take a walk in the park or perhaps get a little gardening done in the cool of the morning. I definitely have a mile-long to-do list of gardening tasks I could be doing outside on this day off of work. Alas, my all too often used excuse ofI will do it laterpushed the thought of outdoor activities out of my mind, so I nestled into my comfy chair and opened my laptop to begin working on a PowerPoint presentation for this week’s Sunday School lesson. Just as I got started, my phone rang.
“Hi, Cindie! This is Rita. I’m over at McKee park. What are you doing right now? Would you like to join me for a walk?”
To which I countered, “I’m just sitting on my duff in my comfy chair. I’ll put on my shoes and meet you there in a few minutes.”
Rita (a friend I met through our Fitchburg Garden Club) and I enjoyed talking about what has been going on in our respective worlds (and gardening, of course) and did a little meandering through and around the park. A walk in what I call “my happy place” turned out to be just the thing my heart and body needed today.
Our homes practically bookend the park – mine to the northwest and hers to the southeast, so we ended our walk by wandering through her garden together. September gardens are definitely fading in their summer glory, but we gardeners have the eyes to see the beauty that was and that which will be in the ebbing vestige of floral splendor. Even in its autumnal decline, I can see how my friend designed her garden spaces by layering trees, bushes, perennials and annuals to create a truly magnificent piece of paradise on earth.
Thanks, Rita! I’m so thankful you rescued me from my sedentary morning with just a phone call and an invitation to take an impromptu walk in the park.
Today I am joining the encouraging writing community over at Five Minute Friday for their weekly link-up. This week our common theme is Rescue.
Barefoot Lily Lady 