Tuesday, 16 October 2012
The Dementia Diary: Dylan comes to town
The Dementia Diary: Dylan comes to town: My daughter was born at 6:42 am on August 9th. No lie, my mother was there by 7:00 am. I was going to be induced the next day but Dylan ca...
The Dementia Diary: A strange day
The Dementia Diary: A strange day: Mom has good days and bad days. We all do but when you have Dementia a bad day can be really bad and this was one of those days. Mom has h...
The Dementia Diary: Music gives wings to the mind
The Dementia Diary: Music gives wings to the mind: I make sure that mom doesn't spend her days in bed waiting to die. At the facility there are plenty of activities that with my help she can...
The Dementia Diary: A baby bullit might be in order
The Dementia Diary: A baby bullit might be in order: One of the terrible things about end stage Dementia is that people lose the ability chew and eventually the ability to swallow. On mom's ...
Music gives wings to the mind
I make sure that mom doesn't spend her days in bed waiting to die. At the facility there are plenty of activities that with my help she can participate in. One of them is music therapy led by Shannon Robinson (there's that name again) of JB Music Therapy, who is just a wonderful lady with such a heart for both music and her clients.
In music therapy, Shannon plays songs that hopefully the clients will know, and she encourages them to sing or clap or whatever. Then after a song is played she will talk directly to the participants one on one and ask what the song reminds them of or how it makes them feel. To see the residents and my mom, who are usually stoic and silent, trying to sing and watch them get lost in the music is a truly beautiful thing. Most of the residents are like mom, they don't talk anymore, they can talk, their addled minds won't let them. But they can sing, yes, I've seen it first hand, they can sing. It is truly amazing to see.
I was late this day so one of the staff had already taken mom to the music room. As I entered the room mom cracked a smile, a real smile and loudly said "Hi Lisa". I knew it was going to be a good day.
Shannon plays songs that the participants would know. Frank Sinatra, Hank Williams, Bing Crosby etc, etc, and songs from their youth like Tipperary, Jelly Roll Blues and My Bonnie. I didn't know the words to over half the songs but the others sure day. Like I said, it's amazing to watch. As I've gotten to know many of the residents on my mom's wing, the don't/can't speak and they can't remember their own names or ages or where they are but they can remember the words to songs and sing them and they haven't sung many of these songs for 50 years or more. Not my mom though, not this day, she didn't seem to know any of the words.
Mom is actually younger than many of the other residents. One of the ladies in her music therapy is 97 years old and the others are all in their late 80's. I don't think mom ever knew a lot of the songs. I watched her watch them sing and she gave most of them the squint eye. I wonder if mom is jealous. Here are these people, all older than her, they can all still walk and they were singing the songs and the look mom had for them was not a nice look. Things are still working in her brain and the fact that she did smile made me think that some of her frontal lobe must still be there because it seems to me that she feels a bit of emotion.
I felt sorry for her, so I quietly pulled Shannon aside and asked if she could play a song for my mom that I hoped mom would know, my mom and dad's wedding song. Shannon graciously agreed and joked that she takes requests. So Shannon played it and I watched my mom perk up because she knew the song and she knew the words and my God she sang them. Me of course, I cried.
Mom sang these words "Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. You have made my life complete and I love you so..." And at the end of the song she said "Elvis". For those of you that don't know, my mom was a big Elvis fan. Her and Sylvia Manning had this big cry fest when he died and why do you think my name is Lisa-Marie. Elvis and Neil Diamond was about I she ever played when I was growing up. I love both Elvis and Neil Diamond and I'm not ashamed to say it and it's thanks to my mom.
Love me tender, love me true. All my dreams fulfilled. For my darlin' I love you and I always will. The king is not dead and neither is my mom.
In music therapy, Shannon plays songs that hopefully the clients will know, and she encourages them to sing or clap or whatever. Then after a song is played she will talk directly to the participants one on one and ask what the song reminds them of or how it makes them feel. To see the residents and my mom, who are usually stoic and silent, trying to sing and watch them get lost in the music is a truly beautiful thing. Most of the residents are like mom, they don't talk anymore, they can talk, their addled minds won't let them. But they can sing, yes, I've seen it first hand, they can sing. It is truly amazing to see.
I was late this day so one of the staff had already taken mom to the music room. As I entered the room mom cracked a smile, a real smile and loudly said "Hi Lisa". I knew it was going to be a good day.
Shannon plays songs that the participants would know. Frank Sinatra, Hank Williams, Bing Crosby etc, etc, and songs from their youth like Tipperary, Jelly Roll Blues and My Bonnie. I didn't know the words to over half the songs but the others sure day. Like I said, it's amazing to watch. As I've gotten to know many of the residents on my mom's wing, the don't/can't speak and they can't remember their own names or ages or where they are but they can remember the words to songs and sing them and they haven't sung many of these songs for 50 years or more. Not my mom though, not this day, she didn't seem to know any of the words.
Mom is actually younger than many of the other residents. One of the ladies in her music therapy is 97 years old and the others are all in their late 80's. I don't think mom ever knew a lot of the songs. I watched her watch them sing and she gave most of them the squint eye. I wonder if mom is jealous. Here are these people, all older than her, they can all still walk and they were singing the songs and the look mom had for them was not a nice look. Things are still working in her brain and the fact that she did smile made me think that some of her frontal lobe must still be there because it seems to me that she feels a bit of emotion.
I felt sorry for her, so I quietly pulled Shannon aside and asked if she could play a song for my mom that I hoped mom would know, my mom and dad's wedding song. Shannon graciously agreed and joked that she takes requests. So Shannon played it and I watched my mom perk up because she knew the song and she knew the words and my God she sang them. Me of course, I cried.
Mom sang these words "Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. You have made my life complete and I love you so..." And at the end of the song she said "Elvis". For those of you that don't know, my mom was a big Elvis fan. Her and Sylvia Manning had this big cry fest when he died and why do you think my name is Lisa-Marie. Elvis and Neil Diamond was about I she ever played when I was growing up. I love both Elvis and Neil Diamond and I'm not ashamed to say it and it's thanks to my mom.
Love me tender, love me true. All my dreams fulfilled. For my darlin' I love you and I always will. The king is not dead and neither is my mom.
Monday, 15 October 2012
A baby bullit might be in order
The menu at the facility for the residents like mom is pretty much the same. Oatmeal and yoghurt for breakfast and mush for lunch and mush for dinner. I have tasted the mush and the mush all tastes the same. The only variation is the vegetable mush which could be anything from carrots or peas to squash or beets. But the mush is mush and the lunch mush looks and tastes just like the dinner mush and if I didn't know better, which I don't, I think they are just reserving the same mush over and over again. I might have to sneak into the kitchen one day. If you ask mom what she had for lunch she'll tell you fish. If you ask mom what she had for dinner, she'll tell you fish. Hell in mom's mind she's eating fish everyday and twice a day. The thing is that mom hates fish, so everything tastes like fish to her.
The staff assure me that mom has a good breakfast. She likes oatmeal (though I know she prefers Cream of Wheat) and she like yoghurt. I feed her at every lunch and at most of the dinners too. At lunch she has no problem eating the soup or the pudding for dessert. However, the mush in between those two courses, oddly enough suddenly mom has problems swallowing and I don't blame her. I watch her face when the mush is put in front of her and her eyes squint at it and I can just see her absolute dislike for the stuff. If the potatoes are real (sometimes they are fake mashed potatoes) she'll have a few bites of that and if the vegetable mush is good, she'll have a few bites of that too. But that meat mush, well it's just gross and I wouldn't feed it to a dog. There is no salt and pepper on any of the tables, no ketchup, no butter to even slightly enhance or hide the blandness of the mush (I'm going to sneak in some Ketchup). It makes me wonder if the dieticians really care or do they think, these people have no mind left so what does it matter. Well it does matter, it matters to me because I don't want my mom to die yet and everyone knows that we get vitamins and energy from our food.
I raised two children and when they were babies it made no sense to me to buy jars of baby food when all I needed to do was cook something up, put it in the blender and then freeze the puree in ice cube trays. Someone figured this out and created the baby bullit and they are now uber rich because of it. I am now thinking that I can make a decent tasting stew and get a baby bullit and blend it into cubes and freeze it, just like I did with the kids (minus the baby bullit) but make it for mom. It would have some taste and some flavour and nutrition and maybe, just maybe mom would eat it. Hell, I could do all her food, the vegetable, the potatoes, the meat, you name it. I'd add some butter and salt and seasoning because in all honesty, at this point do we really need to worry about her cholesterol or blood pressure. I'm sure Canadian Tire will have a baby bullit.
The sad thing is that my mother struggled with her weight for as long as I can remember. She was always dieting or trying this new fad or that new fad when really all she had to do was stop eating so much bread and cheese and buttermilk. Finally she has reached the weight she always wanted to be at, 140 lbs. Yep, the Dementia diet works, but I wouldn't recommend it.
Sunday, 14 October 2012
A strange day
Mom has good days and bad days. We all do but when you have Dementia a bad day can be really bad and this was one of those days. Mom has her first worrisome bed sore. So when I came just before lunch the wing nurse told me that she would have to eat and then return to bed. Now, this makes no sense to me. If she has a bad bedsore then why would you keep her in bed??? I questioned the nurse and asked why the doctor hasn't been around to look at it. Her answer "We only bother the doctor when they become infected". Believe me, I was biting my lip from the stupidity of that. Why wouldn't you try to avoid infection and have a doctor look at it and even prescribe something prior to infection. Then I thought about it, I'm sure bedsores are a very common occurrence and a doctor could spend all day just looking at bedsores. Still, it worries me because an infection could be what puts mom over the edge and I would hate for the reason for her passing to be a fucking bedsore.
So after lunch the nurses wanted to change her dressing and then put back in bed. I wanted to get a look at this bedsore, but of course they wouldn't let me so I waited outside in the common area and watched some tv with the other residents. Then I hear "I know you." It was the lady next to me, my mothers 'room mate'.
I reminded her that I'm Elaine's daughter and she responded "You haven't changed a bit, you still have that cute little button nose". Well this peaked my curiosity and sure enough, she did know me. Olga lived around the corner from us in Canmore, in the 70's when we still lived on 4th street. Her daughter Jo-ann babysat me a few times and my brothers went to school with her son Manuel and she remembers me from the old arena and when I figure skated. We talked about Duncan Baxter and the Bushulaks and the Myers and the Fules and everyone from the old neighborhood. What a small world and here 40 years later old neighborhood women sharing the same room. "Shame about your mom," she said. Then the nurses came and got me and told me that I could go and sit with mom.
Mom had been cranky at lunch, refusing to eat, so I knew that this bedsore must be causing her some pain. I sat beside the bed and read People magazine to her and then Chatelaine, showing her the pictures, she just stared at me. I thought she would fall asleep but she didn't and that confirmed for me that she must be in pain. I went and got a Reader's Digest to share with her and I started reading an article to her and then she blurts out "Get that stupid look off your face". Well wasn't that a blast from past. There was the mother I knew and loved and suddenly I was 15 again. I know angry outbursts like that are because of Dementia but still I found it comforting. Yep, having my mom tell me off was like hearing heaven. I carried on reading. About a half hour later I could see her eyes were getting droopy and she blurted out again "You can leave now". So I kissed her head and told her to have a good nap. Then I went to workers station and I didn't ask them, I told them to keep an eye on the bedsore because if it gets infected, I will be pissed off and I may be all roses and sunshine, but you don't want to piss me off. I think they got it.
So after lunch the nurses wanted to change her dressing and then put back in bed. I wanted to get a look at this bedsore, but of course they wouldn't let me so I waited outside in the common area and watched some tv with the other residents. Then I hear "I know you." It was the lady next to me, my mothers 'room mate'.
I reminded her that I'm Elaine's daughter and she responded "You haven't changed a bit, you still have that cute little button nose". Well this peaked my curiosity and sure enough, she did know me. Olga lived around the corner from us in Canmore, in the 70's when we still lived on 4th street. Her daughter Jo-ann babysat me a few times and my brothers went to school with her son Manuel and she remembers me from the old arena and when I figure skated. We talked about Duncan Baxter and the Bushulaks and the Myers and the Fules and everyone from the old neighborhood. What a small world and here 40 years later old neighborhood women sharing the same room. "Shame about your mom," she said. Then the nurses came and got me and told me that I could go and sit with mom.
Mom had been cranky at lunch, refusing to eat, so I knew that this bedsore must be causing her some pain. I sat beside the bed and read People magazine to her and then Chatelaine, showing her the pictures, she just stared at me. I thought she would fall asleep but she didn't and that confirmed for me that she must be in pain. I went and got a Reader's Digest to share with her and I started reading an article to her and then she blurts out "Get that stupid look off your face". Well wasn't that a blast from past. There was the mother I knew and loved and suddenly I was 15 again. I know angry outbursts like that are because of Dementia but still I found it comforting. Yep, having my mom tell me off was like hearing heaven. I carried on reading. About a half hour later I could see her eyes were getting droopy and she blurted out again "You can leave now". So I kissed her head and told her to have a good nap. Then I went to workers station and I didn't ask them, I told them to keep an eye on the bedsore because if it gets infected, I will be pissed off and I may be all roses and sunshine, but you don't want to piss me off. I think they got it.
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