Tag: Intergenerational activities and dementia.

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Lollipop Lollipop

Dad loves candy. At Christmas time each year, instead of visions of sugar plums, I can still see Dad passing around his coveted box of chocolate covered cherries hoping each person takes only one. In the fall he found the candy corn. In February, he brought home Valentine boxes for every one of his gals and then helped us eat the chocolates. There were three of us. Anything in the candy dish disappeared quickly, even the hard butterscotch. Tootsie Rolls were always around. He loved fudge too, and would eat rope licorice along with all the kids in the family. My favorite vision is Dad in his blue jeans, a crisp white t-shirt with his sleeves rolled up, holding an iconic brightly colored box of Dots with the flaps open. He is chewing away while rolling the next old-school gummy around in his other hand. Dad would enjoy any and all of these sweet treats all the time if I kept them around. With his dementia, he would probably enjoy them all in one sitting. Sugar seems to spin up the delusions associated with Lewy Body Dementia, so candy is more occasional now.

Dad’s favorite candy lately is peanut butter cups. We are renovating his home and almost daily visit the local home improvement store where candy is displayed next to the checkout stands. Dad reaches for those peanut butter cups every time. He can’t get enough of them. Not every day, but when we do buy them, Dad nibbles the candy to make it last as long as possible. Which is fine except when the weather is warm. Its a bit more challenging when the chocolate is melting around his fingers. Candy seems to be a family trait inherited by my son and grandchildren. With the children, it starts with the peanut butter cups, then gummy bears, sour worms, and more. They definitely have candy in common with their Gramps.

A few days ago, while I was in a salon appointment, Dad waited patiently in a chair nearby. I gave him a bottle of water, and one of the salon employees gave him a lollipop from the candy dish. After my service was completed, I noticed to my surprise, Dad drank nearly the entire bottle of water. Interestingly, the small amount of water that remained in the bottle was pink. As he removed the lid and took a sip, I saw a white paper stick bobbing inside the water bottle. My first concern was that he might choke. Without over-reacting, I asked Dad if he put his lollipop in his water bottle. With a sheepish smile, he said, “Yes, and it tastes gooood.”

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When Solitaire Takes Two

Card games have been a source of enjoyment and relaxation for our family. Upon reflection, it was an intergenerational pastime. Many of the games like Cribbage, I learned from grandparents. I remember them playing Euchre, Bridge and Canasta. Dad taught me to play Rummy. As children we played simple games like Go Fish, Slapjack, War, Concentration and Old Maid. My teenage friends taught me how to play Hearts and Poker. The older the cards, the better. Yet, the King of all card games remains Solitaire. Although it has evolved into variations like Spider and Five Crowns, the original version rules our home for about an hour each evening.

Early in his retirement, Dad adapted to technology quickly, conducted business online, used email communication with ease, and regularly challenged his brother in the game of FreeCell. He mastered the game and kept records to prove it. Dad’s spreadsheets listed every game he won by number. There were thousands. If he missed a win, he would search the game by number until he won, filling all the pages of a complete bookkeeping ledger. Like many independent activities, FreeCell, and the use of technology have faded with dementia.

Falling back on the reliability of Solitaire, Dad uses a tablet which I set up for him. Once I bring up the Solitaire app, he can play the game in his own way. Dad rarely finishes a game because once he moves most of the cards to the upper stack, he then moves all of them back to the playing field. He hands me the tablet to show me the cards lined up below from King to ace with the upper stacks empty. Until recently, Dad insisted on moving every card individually back to the top for an official win. Now he enjoys the “auto collect” feature and the dancing card patterns. On days where, as Dad says it, “my brain is working backwards,” the cycle of moving cards back and forth occurs many times. When he gets tired or can’t make a play, Dad asks for help, and we play together for a little while. 

When Solitaire takes two, it’s  a Win – Win!