I showed up for a scheduled nuclear stress test in Durango with my entourage, my family. We travel as a family to the doctor, dentist and hospital. We have had to change as life has changed.
When my Sweet Al accompanied me on this trip, he insisted on helping me into the wheelchair.
Taking paint off corners and putting holes in the hospital walls, he pushed me into a corner. I couldn’t move. He wouldn’t let go of the handles. He was taking care of me. In his mind, he had not left his post as my protector and the leader of this family.
My Sweet Al is changing as he moves into the next stage of dementia.
I need to listen to Al. He has definite reasons for wanting what he wants. These are some of the things I need to be aware of. I’m still learning.
1. Embrace his reality. When I’m stuck in the wheelchair in the corner and he insists on helping me, don’t make a big deal out of it. Al believes he is taking care of me. That’s what he was doing.
2. Don’t argue with him. What is true for me is not true for him. I marked a pink line on the calendar to assure him he had not missed the Bristol NASCAR Race. He insisted it was Sunday and he was missing the race. I argued with him, “It’s Thursday.” I showed him on the calendar. He couldn’t comprehend.
3. Don’t talk about him as if he weren’t in the room. I have. Yes, I have talked about a situation while he sat quietly hearing what I told the children. “Watch your dad, Angel. He could wander off. He doesn’t comprehend.”
4. Keep him on a routine — it helps him to associate with the familiar. Al and I have a routine every day. But in these days, I have had to leave at 6 a.m. to be at a doctor’s appointment in Durango. Al is bumfuzzled. He doesn’t understand why he isn’t getting breakfast. He’s hungry and wants breakfast. I tell him it’s only 5:30 in the morning. We will pick up something down the road. He wants breakfast now. I need to take a few minutes and fix him something. It wouldn’t hurt for me to do that.
5. Don’t exclude him from parties and family gatherings. It’s easy for this family to drown out a quiet person. I insisted that Al put on his hearing aids to engage with the family during a basketball game or dinner conversation. I wrestled with him for 30 minutes to get his aids in his ears. It helps the whole family.
6. He likes to pick up things and carry them around. I tell him those are my things. Put them back. He wants to help me. He moves things around and I find them in another room. I tell him, “Let me carry my own purse. I know what I need.” His response is, “I’m just trying to help.” I need to let him help.
7. Let him explain what he’s trying to say. It’s important to let him talk. I have a habit of talking for him. I need to learn how to be quiet and listen.
8. He wants to eat what he wants to eat. I tell him what we are eating. If he wants cream of mushroom soup every day for a week, it’s OK. I don’t.
9. When he leaves the water on and I take a cold shower, I need to learn it’s OK. He feels like I’m chastising him. I’ve got to work on that.
10. He wants me by his side more and more. He falls asleep, but he needs to know that I’m there. I turn off the television and he wakes up.
Final brushstroke: My Sweet Al is still very sweet, but he’s changing. I have to learn how to change for him. He is still the love of my life, and I get to have him next to me for another day. I’m the blessed one.
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