Top 5 Security Objects Favored by People With Alzheimer's (courtesy of Caring.com)

By Paula Spencer, Caring.com senior editor
Last updated: April 12, 2011

Holding a security object can be calming to someone in the later stages of dementia. Don't insist that the person engage with the object (although he or she might, and that's great). Just having it around to see or hold provides the emotional link to a better mood.

You might be surprised by what works for your loved one. Some leading favorites:

Soft objects, such as a favorite shawl or a textured blanket

Animals, such as a real pet or a stuffed animal; they provide tactile pleasure

An object representative of the person's past: a newspaper, a briefcase, or a tennis ball for someone who once used these things every day, or a baby doll for a mother

A simple everyday item, such as glasses, a purse, a hat, or a watch

A photograph: Less common, since the person in the image is apt to be forgotten (but people have been known to grow attached to the frame itself)

A Little Advice

For those who are caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s:

I make a point of going away for a couple of days every few months. My daughter stays here while I am gone (she is a paid elderly caregiver and Dad responds well to her). I call it recharging my batteries. In my case, I go home to visit my mother and my 92 yr old grandmother, the 2 most influential women in my life. While I’m there, it allows my mother to take a break from caring for my grandmother and gives me an opportunity to spend time with my grandmother. It may not sound like much of a break to most people but it's what works for me. Figure out what works for you then do it, regularly. Preferably before you have a melt down.

Do something for yourself. Make time for yourself. Take care of yourself. It's way too easy to run yourself into the ground when you are providing the kind of care we do.

You can't help the irritation or the frustration you feel. It's a part of our lives. Imagine how frustrating it must be from the person with Alzheimer’s. Alzheimer's is the most frustrating disease I know and that's all there is to it. The trick is to find ways to deal with YOUR angst. Even if it means having someone else come in for a few hours so you can remove yourself from the situation. I frequently run to the grocery store or the pharmacy when my husband is at home just to get away from it all. Some days it's the only hour of the day that I'm not frustrated, irritated or exasperated. But I know it helps keep me sane.

It’s ok to hate the disease. Believe me, you will make mistakes. You are only human. Forgive yourself! What you are doing is the most selfless act of love anyone can ever do for another human being. Don’t judge yourself too harshly. Be your own best friend, not your own worst enemy.

Caregiver.com Interview With Naomi Judd

April 30, 2011

This past week has been emotionally charged beyond belief. On April 24th (Easter Sunday) we marked the 1year anniversary of Mom’s death. Now, 6 days later it is her birthday and the anniversary of her memorial service.
Dad asks daily, “What day is this?” or “What is today?” As he is asking, he is checking the day and date on his watch (as if to confirm that we are in agreement). On good days, he will only ask a few times. On bad days he may ask dozens of times.




THE WAY OUR DAY STARTED


I got up this morning to find Dad sitting silently in his chair. As soon as he saw me he said listlessly, “What day is this?” I replied around a sudden lump in my throat, “April 30th”. He took off his watch and looked at it, turning it this way and that, reading the date from every possible angle.
“There use to be something important that happened in April. I think it was on the 30th. It isn’t one of the kids birthdays because none of them were born in April.” He looked at me totally bewildered, “Why can’t I remember? I know it was something important.”
I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, choking out, “Dad, today was Mom’s birthday.”
“My mom’s birthday? No, I don’t think so. You mean your mom’s?”
I shook my head, “No. I mean your wife’s. Today is her birthday.”
The sadness oozed from his very being as he slumped further down in his recliner. A shaky hand wiped over his face. “I knew it was something important. How could I forget that?” He turned his pain-clouded eyes to mine, “I miss Del as much right this second as I did the day she died. How could I forget her birthday?”
I leaned down and hugged him, “It’s not your fault, Dad. Your illness just makes you forget things sometimes.”
He hugged me back, patting my hair and said, “I don’t want to forget her. Del was my whole life and I don’t know what to do without her but I know I don’t want to forget her.”
I wanted desperately to assure him that he wouldn’t. But in that moment, we both knew there is every possibility that is exactly what will happen. With tears filling my eyes, I walked into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

As the coffee maker began to drip, I asked Dad if he was ready for some breakfast. He said he thought he’d rather wait for a while. A couple of minutes later he came around the corner and asked, “Hey, Sweetheart, what day is this?”
“April 30th,” I answered quietly with my back to him.
“That’s right. I knew that.” He started back toward the living room, asking, “What’s next?”
“Nothing, Dad. We don’t have anything at all to do today. It’s Saturday.”
“Have you gotten the newspaper yet?” he asked as he sat back down in his chair.
“Not yet. Would you like me to go get it?”
“No, I’ll get it. It will give me something to do besides sitting around being homesick for my wife.”
I told him I thought it was a great idea. That I was sure a little fresh air would be good for him and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day outside.

He struggled from the chair and headed for the front door. “Dad, don’t forget your walker.” I called out to him as I poured myself a cup of coffee.
He turned around and snapped out, “I know that! I do NOT need you to remind me all the time! I am perfectly capable of remembering to use the damn thing. I am perfectly capable of remembering A G.D. LOT of things!”
He grabbed his walker, snatched it off the ground, turned back toward the door and thumped the wheels on the floor. Once again he started for the front door but just before he reached it, he turned and went down the hallway toward his bedroom.
After a few minutes he came back and asked if I had gotten the newspaper yet. I told him I hadn’t and suggested he might like to get it since it was such a lovely day. He immediately agreed as he started for the door. He reached to unlock the front door, looked over his shoulder at me and asked, “Sweetheart, what day is this?”




A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER

On the weekends I strip Dad’s bed and do his linens and laundry. Sweep and mop his bedroom and bathroom, etc. Dad is very proud that he makes his bed every day. Since this is a function that he has appeared to maintain quite well, I only ever do it when he is ill or on laundry day. I had noticed that it was even neater than usual this past week.
I went to strip his bed and the top quilt was turned back (highly unusual). I picked up the pillows on his side of the bed and stood there staring in disbelief. The bed had OBVIOUSLY not been turned down since I had made it last weekend. I was floored.

I went into the living room and sat down beside Dad. “Hey, Dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Is there a reason you haven’t slept under your sheets this week?
He smiled a most serene and charming smile, “Sure. I figured if I didn’t mess it up nobody would have to make it up and nobody would have to do laundry. I was trying to help you. Did I do something wrong?”




THIS AFTERNOON

I was cleaning the upstairs bathrooms, I had just finished the toilet, sink and tub in the boys room and gone to do Dad’s before finishing picking up both bathrooms. On my knees cleaning the toilet, I heard Dad say from behind me, “Oh, shit.”
I apologized and said he could get in here I could easily come back and finish later. He insisted he would just go use the other bathroom.
Almost 30 minutes later, I finished and took the wastebasket with me to empty. Dad was sitting in his recliner calmly flipping through a magazine. As I approached him, he glanced up. “I’ve just been sitting here looking at this magazine I found in the front bathroom. It’s rather interesting.” I leaned down to see what he was reading when he said matter-of-factly, “I think some of these girls might be sluts.”

As he said it, he angled the cover so I could clearly see it. Dad noticed me looking and told me, “It’s called Hooters. They seem to like to show them off too. I wouldn’t usually look at something like this but at least it helps pass the time.”
I smiled and nodded as I went to the kitchen. Dad continued to flip through the pages. When he got to the end of it, he turned it back to the front cover and casually began going through it again. Periodically, he would make little comments under his breath. I was delighted to see something capture his attention for so long.

He mentioned it a couple of times, “I found this magazine in the front bathroom. It’s called Hooters. I’m not sure what to do with it.”
I decided I would put it up somewhere when he left the room (out of sight, out of mind) but when he finally did, the magazine was nowhere to be found. And I’m certainly not going to ask him about it.


One thing is definite, there is seldom a dull moment with Dad around! (see picture toward bottom of the page)

Hold Onto It

April 28, 2011

I’ve said it before and I am going to say it again, “You can not reason with a demented mind. It is absolutely, positively impossible.” I promise you that any attempts to do so will result in a battle fueled by frustration for all parties concerned. No one will walk away victorious. The key is, knowing when it’s time to walk away.
Whenever possible, I try to change the subject but the level of his current fixation determines whether that will work or not. At other times, a distraction will work to sidetrack his thoughts. But if all else fails, there is simply no other choice…it’s time to walk away.
Sometimes when I retreat, I feel as if I am running away but I’ve come to understand that in reality, it can become simply a matter of my survival. When you are caring for someone you love, you have to remember to first take care of yourself. Nobody is going to do it for you, anymore than they will volunteer to take the weight off your shoulders. That’s just the way it is.
There is nothing easy when you are trying to function 24/7 with someone who has Alzheimer’s. It isn’t easy for the person living it and it isn’t easy for the person taking care of them. Hell, the bottom line is, it isn’t easy for anyone who comes in contact with it!



Dad has been more confused, more disoriented, more depressed, more uncommunicative, more apt to fall into favorite repetitive stories, and even less steady on his feet for the past few weeks. His lab work is good and he isn’t on any new meds that would be causing any more side effects than usual. His weight, Pulse Oxygen and Blood Pressure have been running consistently in very good range for him. He eats well and sleeps well. He is mentally deteriorating much faster now while he seems to have, in many ways stopped his physical deterioration.
He has been much more antagonistic than usual. He acts as if he is spoiling for an argument sometimes. I don’t know if it’s the Alzheimer’s or if he is somehow aware that Easter Sunday 2011 made it exactly 1 year since Mom died. It could easily be a combination of both or something all together different.

I can’t believe it’s been a whole year. I can picture the last 24 hrs of her life so clearly, down to the minutest details. I have often wished over this past year that I could erase parts of it. At the same time, I have prayed that I will never forget others.
Dad doesn’t have that luxury. The Alzheimer’s that plagues him is in control. It takes away as many good memories as it does the bad. Over time it changes details, people, names, dates, times, places, and events. It spins deluded, convoluted, and quite often nonsensical memories that trail in its wake.

Dad is starting to have a lot more episodes where he doesn’t recognize the family that lives locally or even in his home. Often, he becomes agitated for no apparent reason. Until recently, it was fairly easy to isolate things that disturbed him and once they were corrected to his satisfaction, he would settle down. Lately, his reasoning makes no sense so it’s virtually impossible to figure it out or to correct it.
The hardest of all is watching him becoming more delusional. Tonight at dinner, he told me an elaborate story about how he was once a weatherman. It started out that he had to learn all about weather as a pilot, “Not during the war of course because the military told you all you needed to know about the weather. It was their job to worry about it. All you had to worry about over there was doing your job and keeping your ass from getting shot down so you could go home.” I was floored when his story turned from the usual wartime memories to end up with him explaining that he was a weatherman on T.V. “for quite some time until they brought in that bald headed guy I can’t stand (Jim Cantore)”. If I had been a stranger listening to the tale he was telling, I would probably have believed him because he sounded so sure of the details. He even went so far as to say that he hasn’t liked Jim Cantore since the day he met him and knew he was going to be his replacement. “Of course, that was long before your time.” He assured me. I nodded and asked questions when it seemed he wanted me to but mostly, I just let him spin his fantasy until it played out. Sometimes, the greatest gift we can give as a caregiver is to simply listen.

At another point today, Dad wanted to know where everybody was. I explained that Melissa had taken all four of the kids home to her house. He quietly said, “I never would have thought you were that kind of woman.” Startled, I asked what he meant. He replied, “I never would have thought you were the type of woman who would give your children to somebody else to raise. I would think you would want to do it yourself.”
“Dad, three of those children are Melissa’s. Jordyn is mine. We take care of hers when she’s at work and she takes care of them and Jordyn when she isn’t. We help each other out.”
“I know that!” He interjected sharply before he shook his head sadly, “Who helps her with them? She shouldn’t have to take care of all those children by herself! That’s too much for her to do.”
“We do.” I said softly. “We help her a lot, Dad. And she helps me a lot by taking Jordyn and giving us a break from taking care of kids. I think we both need a break sometimes.”
“I love those children and I think most of them are the cutest kids I have ever seen. I want them here. They belong at home with you. Besides, she doesn’t have any help over wherever she is with them.” His agitation steadily grew, “Children should be with their mother!”
“Dad,” I quietly tried to reach him, “They are. Cameryn, Ayla and TyTy are Melissa’s children. Jordyn is mine. I am helping her raise her children and she is helping me raise mine. We are a blended family. I thank God every day that we have most of my children and grandchildren living near us but sometimes we all need a break. Melissa’s children need to be with her at their home.”
He rose from his chair and glared at me as he excused himself to go to the bathroom. On his way out of the room, he said quite clearly, “She shouldn’t have to do it alone. And if you were a good mother, you wouldn’t let her. You would be raising your own damn children.”

With tears in my eyes, I made my way downstairs. It was lost. Not a battle… not a war… but a piece of my heart. There are things about Alzheimer’s you cannot escape. There are things you cannot ignore. There are things you will never be able to forget. There are things that break your heart and attempt to shatter your very self. If you don’t have strength to draw on from the very depths of your soul, my advice to you is to get out. Put your loved ones in the hands of someone who can be detached to some degree because this a job that will breathe joy into you at times and suck it right out of you at others. I promise you this, it can be very hard to pick up the shattered pieces and go on sometimes. But if this is what you are meant to do, you will do it because it’s the only thing you can do. And if you are doing this all because you love someone then the strength you seek is already inside you. Find it… use it… hold onto it!

Help for Caregivers

If you are taking care of a loved one, I strongly suggest you check out this amazing website. It is honestly helpful and supportive.
http://www.caring.com

Cannot vs. Can

The move into the beginning of the Severe Stage of Alzheimer’s kind of took me by surprise. It happened gradually. Over the last few weeks, Dad has become more confused, more disoriented, more prone to emotional outbursts, more combative, more likely to blame others for things he has done, more intense on the things he fixates on, more likely to make things up to fill in memory gaps in the stories he repeatedly tells. Then you have the things he is less… less able to recognize family members who live outside our home, less able to remember something that happened moments before, less able to complete a simple task, even with direction.

There is a wonderful poem (anonymous) that was written for Cancer patients. I am going to share it here. It is full of promise.

What Cancer CANNOT Do
Cancer is so limited---
It cannot cripple love,
It cannot shatter hope,
It cannot corrode faith,
It cannot destroy peace,
It cannot kill friendship,
It cannot suppress memories,
It cannot silence courage,
It cannot invade the soul,
It cannot steal eternal life,
It cannot conquer the spirit.


Now, let’s relate that to Alzheimer’s…

What Alzheimer’s CAN Do
Alzheimer’s is so limiting---
It can cripple love,
It can shatter hope,
It can corrode faith,
It can destroy peace,
It can kill friendship,
It can suppress memories,
It can silence courage,
It can invade the soul,
It can conquer the spirit.

I purposely left out one line of the poem as it is the only thing the two have in common… IT CANNOT STEAL ETERNAL LIFE! It is a robbing disease. It steals everything from you. With Alzheimer’s, there is NO promise other than it will rob you blind.


Do I sound angry? I have a right to be! Day in and day out, I watch this disease steal a tiny bit more of someone I love very much.
I pray for strength, understanding and patience. I pray a miracle will happen and someone will someday find a cause and a cure. I pray for all the others who are in my shoes providing full time care to their loved ones. I also pray that the people who read this never have to LIVE it. I know I couldn’t do any of this if I didn’t believe in the power of prayer.

I’m not preaching to anyone. I am simply telling it the way I see it because I am here living it. I am dealing with Dementia.