By Alice A. Larson 

I convinced myself I could handle this problem without support groups or doing additional research, but that’s only because I didn’t want to make it any more real than it already was. Denial comes in many forms, and one is to avoid thinking about the problem any more than need be.

My husband, Bob, is the sweetest person ever. For most of our marriage, he took care of the house. He also walked crying babies in the middle of the night, dressed and transported our two children to daycare, did the laundry and dishes, and worked full time. For 50 years he used his CPA training to oversee the financial records for a heating and air conditioning company, handle our investments, calculate our taxes, and save enough for our children to attend wonderful universities.

Then, a few years ago, he couldn’t balance our checkbook and missed paying some taxes. Everything else seemed fine. Our children thought I was exaggerating when I said Dad seemed to be having memory problems. But as the evidence mounted, I made plans to retire and started having Bob teach me how to do the finances by going through the mail together with him every day.

He became progressively disoriented in airports, driving home from the cabin, even going to the store. Luckily, his car finally broke down and we decided we couldn’t afford to replace it. He never questioned my driving everywhere from then on. He even seemed pleased that it gave him a chance to take in the views for a change.

I quickly mounted a campaign to sell the log cabin and all our land up north, to decrease the number of household chores and renovations that were accumulating on my own to-do list. Luckily, Bob loves to keep busy and was still able to pitch in and help paint, clean, and stage our little lake home.

Fearing that our time together as a family would be shorter than I had optimistically anticipated, we rented a small condo under our daughter’s place in the New York City area so we could be near her and her family for a while. Never did I think we wouldn’t make it through a year in our pied-à-terre.

Now, Bob lives in a memory care facility near our house in Minnesota. I alternate my time by spending two to three weeks in Minnesota and then two to three weeks in our apartment out East. Our two children travel a lot, so they’ve been able to visit Bob frequently and help monitor his care. We’re all enormously grateful that Bob is still lovable, charming, and seemingly happy; Alzheimer’s is not always so kind. 

No rhyme or reason

Do I wonder why us? As I look around at my friends and neighbors who have one by one come down with cancer or another debilitating disease, I realize that everyone has a burden to bear. None of us escapes aging unscathed. So, it makes more sense to think, “Why did I deserve 50 years of wedded bliss? Why did I deserve two handsome, healthy, and successful children who continue to welcome me into their homes and hearts? Why did I deserve two loving grandchildren who are a joy to be with?” Of course, there is no rhyme or reason, and I did nothing to deserve such blessings.

While Bob is letting loose of this world and transitioning into his next exciting adventure, I miss him more every day as he slips away. But I’ve learned a lot and become more capable than I thought I was. I’ve savored memories that might not have percolated to the top but for this disease. I’ve stretched my wings and developed new interests. And, paradoxically, in spite of—or perhaps because of—Alzheimer’s, I’ve become more grateful for our life together.

If you would like to share a first-person account of something related to aging that is meaningful to you, whether it is a sobering or a humorous reflection, or a snapshot of what you’re doing in retirement, please send an email to me with “First person” in the subject line. —Kristine Mortensen, editor

Tips for quality time with Alzheimer’s patients

Help them remember. Early on, people with dementia often remember faces but not names. This is embarrassing for them as they’ve usually lost the skills to navigate awkward situations. Don’t ask them, “Do you remember …?” as this just makes it worse. Here are a few ideas that allow them to save face:

• Assume they don’t remember. Simply provide your name when you greet them. “It’s nice to run into an old neighbor! I’m Bill.”
• Give them photos of friends and family they know. Label the people in them. A caption telling about the picture is also helpful.
• If they’re interested in wildlife, get a poster with the names of birds, etc., on it. Use the poster as a stimulus for discussion. Pointing to the labeled animals prompts them to the animal names without being obvious.
   

Give them power/prerogative. Everyone wants to control their own destiny, but too many choices can be confusing to them whereas having no choice gives them no control over their already limited existence. Think of two choices that are equally acceptable and ask if they have a preference between just those two. It works for food, clothes, television shows, etc.

Give them something that is familiar even if it’s unnecessary. One example is my husband’s wallet. There are only six dollars in it and some library cards. He’ll never need his wallet but it feels familiar, and he feels more secure with some cash if he needs it. 

Make them feel useful. Everyone wants to be needed. Instead of focusing on what they can’t do, find something that they can help do. For example, when I had to clean out years’ worth of taxes and other financial reports, Bob took on the task of shredding documents for me. 

Help them initiate actions. One thing that’s lost is the ability to initiate an action. A caregiver’s natural inclination is to ask, “Do you want to do a craft with the group?” But the patient defaults too easily to “No.” Doing nothing may be easier for them but not necessarily healthier. Instead of asking them, say, “It’s time for crafting! Let’s go see what they’re doing!” They’re more likely to do it, but it still allows them to decline.

Help them use their habits and motor memory to assist themselves. As dementia becomes worse, you may need to help them eat. Allow them to do as much as they can themselves. In other words, you may need to cut their food, but once a piece is on their fork, put the fork on their plate or in their hand and let them feed themselves. As they lose the ability to initiate that activity, put the fork in their hand and cup their hand with yours to navigate your hands together to their mouth. Their motor memory of their hand moving to their mouth will let them know it’s time to open their mouths for the food.

Keep them from wandering, but encourage exercise. If you can’t watch them every minute, put buzzers on the doors so you know when they leave the house. Also, rather than trying to talk them out of it, tell them what a good idea it is to go for a walk, or go exploring, and make a “date” to do that when you have time to go together. Find something else for them to do in the meantime.

Stimulate conversation. If conversation is lagging, try doing jigsaw puzzles together. The chitter chatter involved in sorting pieces, testing pieces, and working together is enough. Just be sure to choose a simple puzzle. We’ve gone from 200 to 100 pieces or fewer.

If they’re into a hobby, bring a magazine on the subject to have something to point to when you discuss the topic. 

—Alice A. Larson