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.

Now, when the fog of the disease rolls in and she feels a little down, she looks through the rearview mirror of her mind. In her reality, she and her friend went out just "last" Sunday. Her face lights up and she becomes animated as she details where they went and what they did. When she speaks to her sister on the phone, she proudly declares, "Oh yes, girl, we went out on Sunday and drove all around!"

In literal truth, it has been months, perhaps even years, since she last went on one of those drives. But in her mind, the engine was running just a few days ago. Far be it from me to shatter that beautiful reality. It warms my heart to know that despite the cruel progression of this disease, her happiest memories are never truly out of reach.

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!”

I recently read an inspiring quote that touched my heart: “We only get so many moments in our lifetime, and we can't relive a single one." I never want to look back over my life and have regrets. Therefore, I decided to do things with my Mom now that will create more good memories with her while I can still do so.

Knowing that my Mom enjoys music just as I do, I asked her if she wanted to watch one of my favorite television shows.  When I told her that I would sit and watch it with her. She gladly agreed. Not surprisingly, she asked several times, “What’s the name of this show?” I turned to the channel and showed her, and then she would state, “I’ve never seen this before.” I periodically asked if she was enjoying it, and she said that she was. She laughed and even sang along with the contestants a few times. It was a very pleasant experience for both of us.

The next night I asked her if she wanted to watch the show again with me, and she said yes. I gladly turned to the channel and sat back to enjoy the episode. Well, after the fifth time of her asking, “What’s the name of this show?” and “I’ve never seen this show before.” I began to question if this was going to work. You see, this was usually my time to sit back and be entertained without interruptions. But instead, I took a deep breath and politely answered her questions repeatedly and described what was happening in the show. She began to laugh again and really enjoyed the episode. 

Afterwards, when I was preparing to leave the room, she said: “Thank you for spending the evening with me.” That was more than I could ever ask for because sweet memories are woven from good times. Even if those memories are just mine.

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. 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.

Safe and Seamless: Practical Tips for the Home

Secure the hazards. Child-lock any cabinets containing cleaning products or medications.
Purge hidden dangers. I learned this the hard way when I walked into my mother’s room and found her rubbing her hands together, insisting it was lotion. My nose and the bottle told a different story—it was fingernail polish remover. Now, all liquid hazards are completely removed from her room. In their place, she has a large pump bottle of actual lotion in the bathroom and a small jar of Vaseline in her nightstand drawer, which keeps her happy and safe.
Swap the toothpaste caps. Replace standard twist-off toothpaste caps with a wash-and-reuse pop-up cap. This prevents tiny caps from rolling onto the floor, getting lost, or worse, dropped down the toilet.
Preserve their dignity. Keep incontinence products in an easily accessible, discreet location in the bathroom so they can manage their needs independently for as long as possible.
Create visual cheat sheets. Leave simple, picture-based instructions next to the television remote, the cell phone, and other everyday gadgets.
Surround them with familiar faces. Hang clear, bright photographs of close family members and friends directly in their bedroom to provide comfort and continuous recognition.
Chase away the gray days. If your loved one experiences weather-related mood changes, invest in a mood or SAD lamp. Whenever it gets cloudy outside, my mother used to tell me, "It's scary." Bringing simulated sunlight into the room completely changed her demeanor.
Anticipate their routine requests. Create a "stash drawer" of items they frequently ask for—facial tissues, room deodorizer, mints, cough drops, or Vaseline. Having these ready the moment they ask keeps the day moving smoothly and keeps everyone happy.

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.

Now, as a caregiver of a parent with dementia, I often question: is this the beginning for me? Honestly, I’m not being paranoid. You see, my father also lived with Alzheimer’s disease, as well as his mother and two of his sisters. So, cognitive disorder is not uncommon in my bloodline. Therefore, the concern is real!

Tell me, do you too question if you’re losing your memory or have the potential of having Alzheimer’s disease when you can’t remember something that you know you know? Or when you can’t find those keys, or your phone, or that shirt that should be in that certain place?

After giving it much deliberation, I realized that my week was thrown off because of being ill and sleeping most of the days earlier in the week to recover. So, once again I gave myself some grace and drove myself home and lay myself down in bed for a nice cozy nap.

Good news! For the rest of the week I didn’t have to ask, “What day is this?”

Keywords: weather humor, losing one's mind. accepting reality, frustration and resentment, forgetting, senile senility, aging humor, care for an older family member, dealing with memory loss, stories about dealing with dementia

Hashtags:#aginghumor, #caringforanolderfamilymember, #dealingwithmemoryloss, #storiesaboutdealingwithdementia

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 of this ranch style home has steps because I'm too afraid to venture up there to see if there are drop-down steps. 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 clothes off at the door." "Stay calm, someone will be with you shortly."

Very slowly I step backward out of her apartment, uh... bedroom. As  I step into the hallway, I start feeling dizzy.  I look for the first chair I can to sit down on and start trying to pull myself together. I remember seeing a video on how to calm down...

• Start by deep breathing slowly in and out while counting from one to ten 
• Gently pat your chest while counting. 
• Focus on your senses.

After taking a few deep breaths I soon start to realize I'm not insane. At least not yet. This was just a mild panic attack. The first I've had since my Mom moved in. I know it won't be the last. At least they won't be carting me off to the looney bin today.

I hear my inner voice say, "You're doing fine. Just take good care of her during the few golden years she has left and a big blessings will pour down from heaven somewhere down the line. You can do this. You're in control! You got this girl!"  As I close my eyes and think of the gentle swell of ocean waves coming from the horizon of a beautiful sunset, I feel a calmness come over me. I got this. All is well. 

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 amuck and it needs to be caught and disciplined! So after fiddling with it in order to make it work herself but then failing she quickly gets out of the 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 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 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. 

Without her television shows she would  resort to staring at the walls and contending with her thoughts, good or bad, and she's not ready for that. So we've tried near genius measures to address her busy fingers and the uncontrollable remote control. For example;

1. We take the remote when she's ready to retire. When she gets up to use the bathroom in the morning we turn on her TV and select her preferred channel with one of her favorite TV shows. This works fine so long as we come out of our own slumber and hear her entering the bathroom.  Of course by noon she is back to looking for her remote to change the channel. 

2. Next we tried taking the batteries out of the remote so her fingers can be as busy as they want to but they do not change the channel, turn away from the cable box, or accidentally turn the TV off. This works fine for a while but at some point she notices it's not responding when trying to change the channel and insists her remote doesn't work anymore.  

3. We even tried buying a whole season of her favorite sit com, but she eventually gets tired of watching the same season all week. That's actually a good sign. It means Mom's dementia is not advanced to the point of forgetting what she watched yesterday. 

At the end of the day, it's a good thing she wants her remote fixed. The fact that Mom is hot on the trail of  resolving the uncontrollable remote control issue indicates that much of her cognitive functions are still very much intact and active. 

So go ahead Mom, do what you must. We're here for you sweetie. Let's get that uncontrollable remote fixed.

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 just came 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 dirty clothes hamper. Nothing, nill, zilch! Not there either. So I ask 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.”

I decided to get off this spinning hamster wheel and just pick out another set of sleepwear. I'll give up the hunt for the missing pajamas for now. Later that evening, while collecting trash I noticed the unusual weight of the bathroom waste basket. I looked inside and there at the very bottom were the missing pajamas! "How in the world did they get in there?" I asked shaking my head. Well, I guess Mom thought that she no longer needed them.

The Name Game - Who's Her Favorite?

I think it’s safe to say that most of us who have a brother or sister have been summoned by our parents by the name of the other sibling. When that occurs a sibling may chuckle and jest that this is proof as to who Mom's favorite child is.

Of course Mom would say that she loves us equally and has no favorite. But, I beg to differ. Throughout each and every day, I here, “Renee!”, the name of my darling sister. “Renee, come here please.” or “Renee, I need help with my TV.” or, “Thank you, Renee!” Mostly, I just smile graciously and carry out her request, but a time comes when I just can't take it anymore. 

The thing that gets my goat the most is when my own birth mother completely forgets that joyous day when she gave birth to me and I received my rightful place in the family as the adored first born daughter,  endearingly named "Marie".  It's a name unlike any other name. A name to be proud of. It speaks gently and softly of the one who possesses it. It is lovely, warm, and kind.  It is wonderful!  How could anyone forget it or trade it in for any other name. My Mom could, and actually did!

Somehow after the passing of six decades she decides to suddenly and overtly adjust the system of nomenclature and change my first name! And not to a name of someone of note and distinction. No, that would be too kind. But to a name from second place. One which  to my chagrin seems to more easily flow from her two lips--- the name of the "pretty one" as Mom too often says--- "Renee!" "Hey Renee, did you find my teeth?"

Today I refuse to answer to Renee. As her hardworking caregiving firstborn daughter, she will learn to call me by my given name. She will call me Marie! 

A few minutes later, after a brief moment of silence I ask, "Hey mom, did Renee find your teeth? "Well, let's just wait for Renee (who happens to live in another state by the way) to show up and find those missing teeth of yours, shall we? And while she's at it, she can answer all those other questions you've asked her today!" She then laughs. I unexpectedly chuckle and snicker, wondering if this could be what I think it is? A brief moment of recognition of my actual name after an entire week of conversation addressed to Renee? If so..., I think I'll take it.

Captain On the Fridge!

 

Normally she eats breakfast lying in bed in her "apartment." But, on this particular day she decided to be the captain of her ship. She's calling the shots today!  "Attention on deck! Captain on the Bridge."  And, today she wants to eat breakfast with her children in the kitchen! 

Eating at the kitchen table would be okay if it weren't for two issues: 

Issue #1- "There's no food in the fridge!" Oh, there's plenty of food in the kitchen. fresh fruit, dry fruit, canned goods, and such. There's also plenty of meat in the freezer, and fresh veggies in the bins, but when you open up the fridge all you see is whiteness!

Issue #2- Mom seems to think there should be a TV in every room in the house. There's no TV in the kitchen, just the music playing from an Alexa device! "Why is there no TV in here?" she asks.

It figures that she would want to show up in the kitchen just before shopping day! I'm hyper-panicking, and hyper-ventilating as I try to keep her from looking inside the fridge.

Why can't she just settle for a quick hello and then stroll back to her room and wait to be served like normal old people?  But no, the Captain wants to micromanage everything in the kitchen today, and no doubt, work her way over to the fridge. "Attention On Deck! Captain on the Fridge!"

Breakfast or Bust

 

Some days Mom wakes up in a stern and austere mood. I soon realize that nothing I do for her today is going to go over well. If that wicked scowl didn’t send me the message of her mood, her tone of voice certainly did leaving the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. It seems she woke up from the curse of Maleficent and if that were not enough, she projects the deepest commando man voice I ever heard. A bass voice that literally shakes me to my core. How could this earth-shattering voice possibly come out of this 5ft 2inch little woman's body? 

Breakfast is usually served by 10:00 AM This particular day, the clock strikes 10:01 AM, I hear Mom snatch open her bedroom door and scurry toward the kitchen saying, "Am I going to have breakfast today?" in that all too familiar commando tone. Mind you, just a few weeks ago, before she came to live with me, by her own choice, she not only ate once a day at precisely 2:00 PM, but some days she preferred to just snack.  Now I'm the short-order cook to whom she will gladly let know when something is not quite to her liking - and please, never be late serving her meal. It took everything in me not to reply, “No, Ma’am. We’re fasting today.” But, I swallowed that retort and meekly served her breakfast. 

My favorite request is when she smiles and kindly asks, "Do you have something I can nibble on?" Yes, we must keep 'Miss Nibbler' satisfied. That means keeping ample amounts of corn chips, cookies, and ice cream handy. I don't mind. Whatever keeps her happy is fine with me. 

Accepting Her Reality

 

"Is It Dreary or Sunny?"

As the caregiver, my question is what will this do to my reality over time? I'm afraid that if I crawl into her head, I'll get lost and not find my way back to my own reality.  Like, how do I accept her reality that people are living upstairs over her apartment, when we actually live in a one floor ranch house? How do I accept that although the weather is actually sunny she needs the window blinds closed because the weather is dreadful. How do I accept that I have to be the one to always turn on her bedroom lights and close her bedroom blinds, or move her meal tray even though she gets up several times during the day and at night to go to the bathroom and scampers into the kitchen to find something to nibble on? Am I missing something here?

My greatest fear is that if I start accepting her reality, I'll end up living in it as well. Before you know it I'll be shipped off to the looney bin strapped in a straight jacket long before she ever gets there! 

Angelo and I used to joke about what the other should do if one of us turns senile. "When I go senile just play the same episode of my favorite TV show day and night. I won't know the difference." We would laugh, then add, "When I go senile just play the same R&B song all day long. I'll be happy and that's all that matters." "When I go senile serve the same meal every day, all day and I'll say, '"Ooh look! Something new!"' And lap it up like I never had it before."

Now that we are caregivers we realize nothing could be further from the truth. Mom likes to mix it up. She quickly tires of certain things repeated daily. Like the same fruit cup, or the same dinner meat, or the same fruit juice, or even the same TV show episode.

However, she does keep the same routine. She likes to rise early, watch TV at 8 AM, eat at 10 AM. Her food needs to be cooked to her liking and she retires at precisely 11 PM.  Some days she's the child and on other days she is the picky and critical parent. She argues if there is any deviation from the norm as she sees it on that given day. 

I guess it's true, if you accept their reality by not arguing with them each time they fail to adjust to your own reality, there will be a lot less dementia drama, frustration, and resentment from forgetting. I'll keep working on it. Someone once said, "The burden of adjustment falls on the one who can bear the burden of adjusting." I guess for now, until it's my children's turn to accept my reality, the burden falls on me to accept my Mom's reality.

Keywords: weather humor, loosing ones mind. accepting reality, frustration and resentment, forgetting, senile senility, aging humor, care for an older family member, dealing with memory loss, stories about dealing with dementia

Hashtags:#aginghumor, #caringforanolderfamilymember, #dealingwithmemoryloss, #storiesaboutdealingwithdementia