SWEET MEMORIES

 

Living with memory impairment can be daunting and frustrating. Watching my mom navigate each week, unable to keep track of the days, is heartbreaking. Every morning, she checks the clock and the calendar on her cell phone, yet the question always follows: "What day is it?" But I am deeply grateful that her most precious memories seem to exist outside the boundaries of space and time.

Some of her favorite memories are of the long, winding drives she used to take with her lifelong friend. Back then, she looked forward to those Sunday outings with the pure, bubbly excitement of a child awaiting a school field trip. Every Sunday afternoon, they would set off, not returning until late in the evening. 

They crossed county lines and state borders, chasing roads down to the oceanfront or navigating the busy streets of D.C., Virginia, and Pennsylvania. For the entire week that followed, she would fill the house with her recollections—the bursts of shared laughter, the music they sang along to or quietly enjoyed, the deep conversations, and the local restaurants where they stopped for dinner.

Moments Well Spent

Last week I heard my Mom fiddling with something in the corner of her room, so I went in to see if she needed assistance. She was trying to reconnect her TV, so I asked, “Mom, why did you disconnect the TV?” Frustrated, she said, “I don’t know who disconnected it.” I replied, “Well, you’re the only one who's in this room.” She then sadly looked at me and stated, “Since turning 40 years old, I can’t do anything right anymore.” 

First, I had to stop myself from chuckling because how is it that she’s now twenty-four years younger than me? Then the kicker was what she said next: “I wish that my children were here with me.” Now, I simply wanted to cry. Instead, I reconnected her television, turned to her favorite show, and then gently kissed her forehead while saying, “That’s okay, you have me here.” She then smiled and said, “Girl, I’m certainly glad of that!”

Learning Never Stops

I have always been a planner. Whether it is organizing a complex itinerary, diving deep into research, or meticulously mapping out an event, I thrive on details and fact-finding. 

But nothing in my life could have fully prepared me for the role of becoming my mother’s permanent caregiver after her dementia diagnosis.

I quickly learned that caring for someone with dementia is a journey without a standard roadmap; it is entirely unique to the individual. Along the way, I have stumbled, learned, and adapted. 

To help other caregivers navigating this challenging path, I have gathered the most valuable lessons and practical strategies that have brought peace, safety, and even a bit of joy back into our daily lives.

Heart-to-Heart: Lessons in Connection and Patience

Trade arguments for peace. Dementia gradually strips away age-appropriate reasoning. Arguing with your loved one will only cause distress for both of you.
Master the art of distraction. When tension rises or a fixation becomes unhealthy, gently pivot. Point out something outside the window, change the room, or start a new activity to guide their mind away from the trigger.
Embrace therapeutic fibs. White lies are acts of kindness here when it eases tension. If a small untruth prevents panic or heartbreak, give yourself permission to use it.
Guard your tone and expression. People with dementia are highly sensitive to emotional energy. Even if you are feeling frustrated inside, maintaining a cheerful voice and a calm face will almost always mirror back a positive response.
Retire the word “remember.” Asking them to remember can highlight their cognitive gaps and cause anxiety. Instead, simply share the memory yourself or look at a photograph together to see if a spark naturally ignites.
Decode their language. If they are struggling to express a thought, listen for a single recognizable word. Use that word to gently anchor your follow-up question and help them finish the thought.
Anchor them in routine. Maintain normalcy as much as possible. Drastic changes to schedules or environments can spark deep irritation and confusion.
Let outsiders deliver the hard truths. When it is time to deliver painful news—like taking away the car keys—let a doctor or the DMV be the "bad guy." This protects your relationship from resentment.
Take control of finances early. Step in and manage their financial affairs before a mistake or a disaster occurs.
Secure your own oxygen mask. You cannot provide 24/7 care alone. You need to take a breath at least once each week. Go out and get some fresh air. Hire in-home help, even if only for a few hours a week, and use that time to do something that truly fulfills you.
Find your tribe. Joining a support group is not a luxury; it is essential for your mental and emotional well-being.

What Day Is this?

I woke up to a beautiful, blustery, sunny day. After being sick for the entire week, it was great to hear the birds singing outside of my bedroom window and to see the sun shining brightly. I did a mental check of how I was feeling: 

No fever…. Check.

No headache…. Check.

No stomach ache…. Check!

No lower back ache…. Well, maybe a little, but nothing a little ibuprofen won’t relieve. So, surmising that I am feeling much better, I get up to start my usual routine. 

So thankful for Angelo, who stepped right up and made sure that both Mom and I were well cared for.

After breakfast and making certain that everyone’s needs were cared for, I decided to run my usual Wednesday errands. I noticed that I didn’t have my usual pep in my step. In between running into different stores, I had to sit in the car to regain my energy. By my third stop, I realized that my stamina was depleted and that I needed to narrow down my errands to just one more venture and head back home.

While driving home, at a red light, I began to make a mental note of what I had on my schedule for the next day when suddenly I realized that this day was in fact Thursday, not Wednesday… OH NO! I totally missed an important appointment that I needed to attend on Thursday… today.

You Got This Girl!

"Stop making all that noise up there!" Mom yells while banging on the wall. I quickly run into the room gasping, "Mom, what's wrong? Who are you screaming at?" "Those people upstairs are so noisy." she replies frantic and frustrated. Mom that's Angelo. He's just opening the garage to get the gardening tools out." "No! That's not Angelo. It's those noisy people in the building. The ones living upstairs over my apartment!" "Mom, there is nothing upstairs but a roof. There is no upstairs." Suddenly I remember that we do have an attic and some attics have drop-down steps. 

I'm really not sure if the attic has drop down steps because I'm too afraid to venture up there. What am I thinking? By this time my own thoughts are confusing me. 

Looks like she's finally did it people. She finally got to me. I'm second guessing my own reality. I feel like I just got infected with a dipsey daft virus and if I stay in her room any longer I will start showing the full symptoms of lunacy.  I can see the signs on the wall. "Welcome To The Insane Asylum For Seniors." "Straight jackets are free - Drop your coats off at the door." "Stay calm, someone will be with you shortly."

The Uncontrollable Remote Control

Mom will go to great lengths to do absolutely nothing. For example,  3 or more times a day while laying on her bed and enjoying her TV shows she accidentally changes the channel or hits the power button and turns off the TV. She surmises that she did not do anything wrong. It's the remote control's fault. The remote has run amok, and it needs to be taught a lesson! So after fiddling with it in order to make it work herself, but then failing, she quickly gets out of bed and searches for someone to fix her remote.  

I dread the day when she can't find anyone in the house to fix the remote and ventures out of  the house.  She would knock on our neighbor's door, and when it opens, she will say, "My stupid remote control won't work. Can you fix it for me?" Of course the remote control works fine. It's the latest in remote control technology. The problem is that for the past 12 months she has not learned how to work it. The poor thing. But it's not entirely her fault. To add to the confusion, some days she thinks the remote control is the cell phone.  

Since she moved from Maryland to Pennsylvania, we had to change cable services. The new service came with an upgraded cable box with a remote control. We hoped she would have learned how to operate the new remote by now, but she hasn't. It would not be so bad if she would just put the thing down and stop trying to change the channel with those busy fingers of hers.  So three or more times a day she roams the halls searching for me or Angelo to help her make her remote work. 

The Case of The Missing Pajamas

Honestly, there are days when I must retrace my steps to nudge my brain into remembering what I went into a room to get, or what I was supposed to do. For example, on this particular day, I was certain that I placed a clean set of pajamas in the bathroom for Mom.

When I glanced into the bathroom while prepping for Mom's shower, there were no pajamas! Then I realized that Mom had just come out of the bathroom, and she has the habit of taking her pajamas and tucking them away when she feels that she doesn't need them at that moment. So now the hunt is on! Nope, they're not in the laundry basket of freshly laundered clothes. Nope, not in her dresser drawers. Nada, not in her closet. Negative, not in my closet. 

Now that leads me to look in the bathroom storage areas:cabinet, under the sink, in the tub, and in the clothes hamper. Nothing, nil, zilch! Not there either. So I asked Mom if she saw her PJs, and, as no surprise to me, she replied, “You gave me pajamas?” I answered, “No, Ma’am, they were in the bathroom. Did you see them?” “No, I haven’t seen any pajamas.”