The Carol and Michael Hearons Family Advocacy Program

Carol and Mike's Place

Chapter Thirty-Seven

April 12, 2022

Dear Readers,

I hope none of you suffered serious head-swelling while reading my (Chapter Thirty-Six) tribute to caregivers.

I did lay it on kind of thick! But I'm not taking back a single word of it.

Keep up the good work, you guys.

In this new chapter, I want to talk about the dementia suffered by so many of our older patients, and offer some food for thought about how to deal with it as a caregiver.

First, put yourself in the shoes of someone who is losing his or her mind—and focus for a long minute on how frightening that must be.

Then vow to be totally unflapped when your patient with that problem cannot remember what year it is, who in the family is dead, or something you covered in detail with them days (or minutes) before.

Do not get mad.

Do not register impatience or disappointment.

Above all, do not withdraw affection until that poor soul can get his or her head on straight, because, in all likelihood, he or she is not going to pull that off.

Dementia is cruelly progressive.

It gobbles up cherished memories like I used to eat vanilla ice cream.

Quite frankly, I would like to suggest that you think of your relationship with a demented patient as a very special one. That loved one is disappearing on you, slowly but surely—and will clearly not benefit from a peevish reaction on your part about it.

In short, your attainment of unflappability is key to making that patient as comfortable as possible, as dementia takes its ruthless course.

Mind you, I haven't acquired such unflappability, myself, just yet. It takes effort.

I still find myself saying, “Robin, we've been over this a thousand times!”

It would be more realistic—no, more grown-up—more compassionate—to simply repeat whatever it is that your patient simply isn't getting (and hope it doesn't come up again for a while!).

A major part of your role—and mine—is to put—and keep—the demented patient at ease.

One way to do this is to determine the subjects of conversation that your patient is most comfortable with. Robin can crisply remember her childhood. So, we go there a lot. She also has a vast store of knowledge about music, having been a professional classical violist. And she has clung to a fantastic sense of humor—and a penchant for silliness—that I enjoyed as the older brother who saw her grow up—and continue to enjoy as her live-in caregiver.

Fortunately, we both also like to play Scrabble—and a goofy card game called “Kings in the Corners.” Beyond that, we enjoy old movies on TV, and say, often in unison, “They don't make movies like that anymore!”

We both are additionally dedicated to spoiling her funky dawg rotten, and Brooke (that wily pooch) is a source of much humor for us humans.

This whole subject of dealing with a patient's dementia deserves another chapter, doesn't it?

Let me think about it—while thanking God that, at age 84, I can still think.

Yeah. I'm gonna do it. Keep your eye peeled for Chapter 38. I could embarrass myself with that one, but that's the price of honesty!

—Michael E. Hearons, Appleton, Wisc.


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