Category: Pets and Dementia

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Love Every Day

Scheduling appointments on calendars is routine for most of us. For Dad, it’s been about three years since he has been certain of the year, month, date, day, or hour. All he knows is existence without time. Sometimes I wonder what it is like to live not knowing the difference between night and day. I imagine this moment – and then this moment, only to realize that the epitome of the concept is a perspective for those of us with a memory of the past and plans for the future. Then I try again with a blank slate.

I wonder what Dad is experiencing when he wakes up each morning. He usually wanders about the home for a while then goes back to bed. Sometimes he sleeps. Sometimes he gets ready to go someplace. Sometimes he looks through a few letters and photographs I keep on his bedside table. Sometimes he whispers, talking with someone I cannot see. Occasionally he doesn’t recognize me for a few moments when I enter his room. He recently asked me, “What is your name again?.”  And on rare occasions he asks me “Where am I,” or What are we doing?”  At bedtime, we practice specific habits. I let him know we are the only people in the house, and that we are going to try and sleep all the way until breakfast. It seems to help. I keep the calendar consistent and a patterned daily routine that helps create an environment of security for both of us. Then there are the special days – the holidays.

What is a daughter to do when she wants to celebrate a holiday with her Dad with dementia? Afterall, he won’t remember it. This year, once an hour throughout the day, I reminded Dad that it was Christmas Day. I associated it with holiday traditions such as gift giving, a special meal, church, eggnog, and singing Christmas music which he enjoys. Each time, he replied as if he was being told for the first time. “Really, Oh that’s nice, or Okay.” This is after including him in decorating the tree, making cookies, watching holiday programs, and even keeping an advent calendar over the weeks leading up to the celebration. The reward this Christmas was how much he enjoyed the combination of gifts with his favorite music on a Bluetooth headset and a small plush puppy from his stocking. He was incredibly happy, petting the pup, listening to the music, and singing along. I captured the moment with video. For myself, and most importantly to show it to him so he can experience the moment again. We listen to music and enjoy the imaginary pet every day.

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. As long as I can remember from the time I was a small girl, Dad always delivered cards, and candy in heart shaped boxes to his girls – my mother, sister, and I. Now I do the same for Dad, even if it’s just for a moment, or several moments of rediscovering the day. Greeting cards have mostly lost meaning for Dad, but he still has a token from a  Valentine’s Day card I gave him years ago. Glued inside the card was a silver heart with the words I Love You Dad engraved on it. Dad usually keeps it on his nightstand. Except every week I find it in the laundry, having fallen out of his pants pocket during the drying cycle. First I hear it clanking around, then I have to dig around the clothes to find it. In a funny way, Dad is still giving me valentines.

We tell each other we love each other every day – morning, noon, and night. Somehow beyond the realm of lost memories and even occasional loss of recognition, our love doesn’t fade. Like the lights on the Christmas tree or the silver heart in Dad’s pocket, every moment on our calendar, we get another opportunity to share our love, and it just keeps shining brighter. This daughter is grateful for love every day.

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The Snail Whisperer

Dad has been living with us in southern California where almost everything grows year-round. He enjoys helping in the garden and it is a regular outdoor activity we share. One day while Dad was helping with some pruning, he discovered several snails crawling underneath leaves. He began to talk with them and even placed one in the palm of his garden glove to introduce the snail to me. Although snails are considered pests and I pluck them by hand and place them in the green waste, I too have admired them and even photographed them. It was no surprise when Dad took to the creatures. They are fascinating and Dad loves critters of all kinds. He has always had a quiet connection with most animals.

Since then, Dad is keeping a snail in his bedroom – well not really. It is an imaginary snail that is quite real to him. He calls him Buddy. Buddy is a rolled up brown napkin Dad found in his pocket after a lunch date with friends. Next to Buddy sits a tiny seashell – a saltwater snail. Apparently, the combination of the two items visualize for Dad as one of the garden snails. In case you are wondering, I had Dad’s eyes checked recently and clean his glasses daily.

It began with Dad showing me the brown round napkin snail and gently placing it on a shelf in his bedroom. Now, several times each day I hear Dad softly talking to Buddy. Recently, he has been asking me for bits of food to place for Buddy to enjoy. What is a daughter to do? I give him a little something and then go back and remove it later. It appears that Buddy is eating well. I love the tenderness with which Dad cares for his little Buddy and the comfort Buddy brings to Dad.

While we were out for a walk a few days ago, Dad noticed, for the first time in more than a year of walks, a few snails crawling across the sunny sidewalk. He picked them up, relocating the snails from the dry concrete to the shady landscape nearby.  If they were inside their shells, he left them where they were. I was relieved it had not rained the night before. There can be hundreds of snails in the neighborhood in certain weather conditions.

As we came upon the last snail of the morning, I waited for Dad to gently grasp the shell and place it on a bush along the sidewalk. Instead, Dad said, “I will just give this one a little shade”. He bent over and created a shadow with his hand. What some of us might have interpreted as a black cloud was the Snail Whisperer providing protection from the heat of the day. After a minute – one long minute, I reminded Dad it was nearly lunchtime. He calmly moved the snail to a spot just under the leaves of a blooming Honeysuckle hedge and we finished our walk. Whew!

Coincidentally, I had been thinking about getting out my origami kit to see if Dad would enjoy making paper animals. I have decided to wait on that idea for a while. Who needs origami paper when you have a brown napkin?