Category Archives: Alzheimer’s/Dementia

Music to your ears, and your brain

Music to your ears, and your brain: A novel approach to improving memory.

I’ve attached the above article from a fellow blogger because I know for a fact that music memory stays with a person, perhaps longer than any other memory.  I’ll give you one personal example that proved this fact for me.  There are other encouraging examples readily found on the Internet, but because my family experienced this phenomenon first hand, that’s what I’ll talk about, ever so briefly.

Nancy and my father

Nancy and my father

My sister-in-law Nancy lived a life that was steeped in artistic activities.  She was a well-known and respected interior designer and she was a flautist.  A flautist is one who plays the flute.  (I’m providing that definition because the sound of the word “flautist” sounds like an uninvited body function to me.) But I digress.

Nancy enjoyed her music involvements on a small and large scale.  In the early 80′s, she met my brother during a local production of South Pacific – a production in which my brother acted, and for which my sister-in-law provided the music accompaniment.  Fast forward to the year 2012.  I gladly helped my brother out by taking Nancy on outings – sometimes to art museums, sometimes to music events.  Regardless of the outing, I always made sure that my vehicle’s radio was tuned to the classical music station.  I knew Nancy would enjoy it, and I also knew that even after being diagnosed four years earlier with mixed dementia, Nancy would be able to identify the orchestral or operatic pieces being broadcast.

Although I grew up appreciating the classics, the only pieces I can accurately identify are those often-played symphonies such as Beethoven’s 9th Choral Symphony, or Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.  Nancy, on the other hand, could pick out the lesser known arrangements and could identify, with pinpoint accuracy, the conductor and the soloist for that particular piece, e.g.  Leonard Bernstein; Yo Yo Ma.  It saddened me to hear the hesitation in Nancy’s voice when she would speak up while sitting in the passenger seat, making the musical identifying remark but always questioning whether she had done so accurately.  “I think that’s Mozart” or “I think that’s Yo Yo Ma playing his cello.  I think it is.”  Even before the piece was identified on the radio I would assure Nancy, “If you say that’s Yo Yo Ma, by God, it is Yo Yo Ma.”

And she was right – and she was affirmed that she still had a handle on Handel, or Mozart, or Sibelius.  Yep – she never lost her abilities.  What a delight, and what a pleasant interlude during an illness that took her life on July 4th, 2012 at the age of 69.  One thing I know for sure, however, is that from Nancy’s viewpoint right now, she’s enjoying her favorite opera each time Wagner’s “The Ring Trilogy” is played around the world.  Nancy doesn’t need season tickets anymore; she has a front row seat.

There’s an App for that!

A recent article by Jim Fitzgerald of the Associated Press focuses on a few electronic methods that might relieve some of the struggles experienced by caregivers who try to balance their frantic personal lives with the oftentimes emergent needs of their loved ones.  For the purposes of my article, I am only looking at the type of monitoring put in place by a family member to check on an elderly person’s well being; primarily a family member with Alzheimer’s or other dementia.

Beleaguered caregivers getting help from Apps is an eyeopening look at how Smartphone Apps, and other electronic devices, can provide some sort of relief to lessen the caregiver’s load.  Many of those who are long-distance caregivers, such as I was for my father several years ago, might benefit from being able to monitor their family member’s safety and well-being from a distance.

But does such monitoring invade the loved one’s privacy?  Of course it does; but I guess one could say that the benefits outweigh the disadvantages of such monitoring.  Or do they?  What comes to my mind is the elderly person’s gradual loss of independence – an aspect of life that many of us would equate to being a requirement for our own quality of life.  But I digress.

At best, I think electronic monitoring serves as a stop-gap or interim measure of caregiving before hands-on care is put into place.  The Pillbox App keeps a very tentative watch on whether or not a loved one – say a parent – has taken his medication properly.  If the parent does not have compromised executive function, it’s certainly easy to “fake it” so that the daughter can feel as though all is well ten miles away.  In reality, however, medication mismanagement might be taking place, carried out by the parent.

Elderly People - sign on Warwick Road, Olton

(Photo credit: ell brown)

The Alzheimer’s Association Comfort Zone program requires that a loved one wear a GPS device at all times so that family members can monitor their comings and goings throughout the day.  The system is of no benefit if the person doesn’t wear the pager; and if the person has dementia, there’s a strong likelihood of that happening.  I’m being the devil’s advocate here, simply pointing out that the system is only as good as the cooperation required to use it.  HOWEVER, and this is a demonstrative HOWEVER, it appears to be a very worthwhile system that provides numerous benefits.  Other than taking away ones right to privacy, it definitely serves as a safety net for when mom, dad, spouse, or other loved one, are heading into trouble.

I’m skeptical of Comfort Zone but I’m also its fan.  I’ve linked the Comfort Zone website above so that the reader can determine if such a system is worthwhile in his or her situation.  My skepticism comes about because I wish more attention and financing would be spent on a cure for Alzheimer’s and other dementia so that these current monitoring methods become a thing of the past.  A world without Alzheimer’s sounds just as desirous as a world without cancer, or MS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease, to name a few.  More disease control financing = more cures.

One final word: I’ve already experienced two family members with Alzheimer’s and all the caregiving migraine headaches associated with those experiences.  So please know that I’m a proponent of worthwhile practices that ease the caregiver’s burden.  Unfortunately, there is absolutely no fail safe method out there that will give caregivers true peace of mind.  Even placement in a long-term care facility is not a 100% guarantee that mom, dad, sis, or gramps will receive the best care possible.  I’m sorry to burst your bubble – but it’s true.

The Morning After

The Morning After: Caregivers Experience of Loss and Their Struggle for Identity.

Morning face

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Perhaps you read the brief title of my article and before delving into its content you’re wondering: The morning after a night of drinking?  The morning after doing something regretful – perhaps synonymous with the previous question?  The morning after a horrific news event?

None of the above.  In the attached article, a fellow blogger writes about his experience of waking up the day after his wife passed away; a day in which he felt the full impact of the loss of his wife and the cessation of his role as her caregiver – his identity for so many years.

Unless, and until, you experience this type of blurry identity, you can’t fully understand the feeling.  Those of you who devoted any amount of time caring for a loved one prior to their death understand all too well the emptiness and lack of purpose that oftentimes follows the end of the caregiving journey.

I was the long-distance caregiver for my father after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.  He lived in a memory care unit of a Southern Oregon continuing care retirement community (CCRC) while I commuted from Seattle by plane, by telephone, and by 24/7 worrying and thinking.  By choice, I left my full-time job and for the next four years, dedicated my time to managing his care and being the primary on-site visitor.  Many of you worked full-time at your “real” job while being a caregiver for a loved one and I respect and honor you for somehow juggling all of those responsibilities.  I knew my limitations, however, and reached that limit quite early in the process.  The emotional and physical toll of caregiving was more than I was capable of handling on top of my other job, so with my husband’s blessing and encouragement, we did without my financial contributions while I carried on as my father’s care person.

After my father’s October 13, 2007 death at the age of 89, I returned to Seattle having spent the last hours of my father’s life at his bedside; then several days wrapping matters up with the funeral home; with the bank trustee, and with the facility in which he had lived for close to thirteen years.  Although there would be many weeks of tying up loose ends upon my return home to the Seattle area, I was effectively unemployed – laid off from a job to which I was extraordinarily committed.  As the blogger in the attached article mentioned – those in this position wake up the day after, and the day after the day after, feeling as though they have lost their purpose.  Additionally, the identity which defined them for several years no longer applies.

Grieving and re-purposing our lives can take place during this time, a process which may take months or years; a process that is as individual and unique as ones fingerprint.  As the blogger wrote in his article, he appears to be transitioning in a way that utilizes his years of being the primary caregiver and advocate for his wife.  He’s recreating his working life; reshaping it to fit the caregiver role in which he flourished.  Like this blogger, I too quite naturally segued into employment positions in which I could continue on the path that I had started years earlier with my father: elder advocacy, Alzheimer’s Association volunteerism, and most recently, putting all of those past and present experiences down on paper in the form of a novel.

But that is not necessarily the norm.  Some of you may have felt the need to totally disassociate from anything remotely related to the caregiving or care managing roles.  I understand that decision and I agree 100% that it’s the right thing for you to do.  Again – how we recover and/or regenerate after the caregiving experience is a distinctive aspect of our ongoing lives.  What we do have in common, however, is that we have all experienced the morning after the end of our caregiving journey.  Whether we’re relieved, angered, aggrieved, or a combination thereof – the morning after is unavoidable.

In closing, I want to celebrate you – the caregiver heroes who are ordinary people, who did the ordinary right thing, at an extraordinary time.  You are a hero to many, and you are a hero to me.

Death by Intensive Care

Geriatrician, Dennis McCullough wrote an excellent book titled:

My Mother, Your Mother: Embracing Slow Medicine

Keep in mind that although he writes about our elderly parents (those over age eighty), the principles he puts forward apply equally to a spouse or partner, sibling, or good friend.  If you are invested in a loved one’s well-being, please consider reading this book.  Bear with me as I provide a lengthy quote that characterizes this physician’s concerns:

Families must come to appreciate that “medicalized” care is very different in nature and cost from the personal health support and hands-on caring so essential for your parent.  In reality, our American medical system is best at managing acute crises and supplying excellent specialized elective procedures – joint replacements, organ transplants, eye improvements, cosmetic changes – all modern technological wonders.

As for the more ordinary and common management and support of elders and families dealing with chronic problems of aging and slow-moving diseases, our medical care system has not done so well.  Some elderly patients are fruitlessly subjected to what some critics now call “death by intensive care  …  “

Now let’s put ourselves into the shoes of a vulnerable adult sitting in an examination room waiting for the almighty doctor to walk through the door.  Answer this question for me: When was the last time you personally felt rushed during a doctor’s visit for yourself?  (Mine occurred last week – but I digress.)  Many of us think faster than the vulnerable adult, are able to keep track of what the doctor is saying, and have sufficient cognitive awareness to discern the doctor’s recommendations or treatment options.  Dr. McCullough wonders how an elderly person could possibly be treated effectively during a fifteen-minute office appointment by a doctor who peers into a computer screen, barely acknowledging the presence of the patient.  How can that physician possibly treat the complexities of an elder’s needs if he/she is not fully engaged in examining the patient?  Most often, the elder patient will not volunteer information that is not in direct response to a doctor’s insightful inquiries.  They are of a generation that does not question a medical professional – “after all, they have the medical degree, not me.”  The elderly patient may exit the exam room having not even discussed his or her medical concerns – simply because the doctor didn’t give her an opportunity to do so.

Dr. McCullough emphasizes how important it is that each vulnerable patient have a “Circle of Concern” – a group of people that provides steady support and insight into the patient’s needs.  That group may consist of immediate family members, friends, neighbors – anyone dedicated to providing an “active, extended advocacy partnership” that will not only attend to the patient’s technical needs, but also the emotional and human needs that are perhaps in need of greater attention.

My article, Caregiving: The Ultimate Team Sport, promotes a similar type of caring, using the analogy of a team’s various members, and their collective roles on the team.  Each person has a skill that supports the other team members’ skills.  The Circle of Concern serves this same purpose.

Perhaps we should all consider how we would like to be treated by others if/when we become dependent upon their contributions to our quality of life.  Dr. McCullough offers this snippet of Tibetan wisdom:  Make haste slowly.

Not all decisions are emergent ones.  Isn’t a person’s quality of life worth stepping back so that appropriate, “guided” decisions can be made?  Rushed judgment should not take the place of carefully considered care.  As Dr. McCullough states, “Time to begin to ask for more time.  Short of a crisis, don’t be rushed.”

Do Not Ask Me To Remember

Walk in Their Shoes… Just for a Minute.  The attached article contains encouraging advice that caregivers worldwide need to read, and re-read, from time to time.

Those of us who have been caregivers to loved ones with Alzheimer’s or other dementia know very well the frustrations felt when we come to the realization that we’re not sufficiently equipped to handle that which this disease presents us.  We’re walking in caregiver shoes, fully incapable of walking in those of the person with dementia.  If we could, we would shriek at what we see and experience.

So we get frustrated – understandably so.  We raise our voices in anger – and feel guilty immediately thereafter.  We complain to others about the one we’re taking care of – because we crave to be heard and understood by someone!

English: PET scan of a human brain with Alzhei...

PET scan of a human brain with Alzheimer’s disease (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Do not ask me to remember is a loaded statement and one which should give us pause.  We know the person with dementia is not able to remember the previous five seconds, so why do we ask them to remember where and when they were born?  Why do we think that repeating an answer LOUDLY AND WITH EMPHASIS will help the loved one remember this tenth time you’ve answered their same question?  Why do we think they will understand our logical explanations about circumstances when their ability to understand anything requiring organization of thought is a function forsaken long ago by the brain that they’ve been stuck with.

Because we’re human – and we want order out of chaos, and we want the one for whom we are providing care to finally “get it.”  And we want them to understand that this ain’t no cake walk for me so why aren’t you appreciating all that I do for you?

Because they don’t remember.

Wanted: new caregiving skill – mind reading.

Benjamin Button Effect: What Do You Do When Your Mom Cries Out Like a Baby?.

Being a mind reader would greatly benefit every parent of a newborn baby, and all caregivers of those with Alzheimer’s or other dementia.  The article attached above, by Blogger Kathy Ritchie, is a thoroughly relatable article that is raw in its presentation, but wreaking with truth because of that rawness.

Will Arnett at the premiere of Baby Mama in Ne...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Reading Kathy Ritchie’s article I was instantly reminded of a line from the television series, Up All Night, wherein new parents, played by Will Arnett and Christina Applegate, fail miserably in their efforts to get their infant daughter Amy to fall asleep and stay asleep.  They try everything they can think of to address the baby’s distress: diaper changing, giving her a bottle, reading stories, making funny faces – you get the drill.  In desperation, Will Arnett finally says to his infant daughter, “We’re on your side!”

When you can’t force understanding on someone you’re taking care of, you wing it or you pull every trick out of every “How To” book written on this task of caregiving.   Yet more often than not, even with all the resources available at your fingertips, you make little headway in your attempts to meet the emergent needs your loved one presents to you.  Or what works one day (or hour) may not work the next day.  Why?  Because Alzheimer’s and other dementias are very unpredictable diseases; and people with dementia are unique individuals, equally as unpredictable.  There is no one formula for how to respond to any given situation.

As Kathy states in her article, “You have to work very hard to find the funny.”  I think many of us, given the choice, would settle for finding all the right answers and do without finding the funny – but the funny incidents are a great addition to ones day.

Caregivers of the world – you are not alone and if you need someone to tell you what a great job you’re doing, I’m telling you right now – YOU’RE DOING A GREAT JOB!!!

Your journey is filled with speed bumps and ruts in the road, but you continue on that path anyway because of your commitment to your loved ones.  After all, they had no choice in the matter when they ended up with Alzheimer’s or other dementia.  You’re both innocent victims.

Caregiving and the Challenges of Travel

Caregiving and the Challenges of Travel: It Can be Stressful for Both of You.

Read the above article if you’re not convinced that traveling with a loved one who has dementia can be challenging.  Or read it if you too have experienced this particular type of stress because you have already ventured into the travel hell that this Blogger describes.  I make that statement with no disrespect intended.  It doesn’t matter how much you love your co-traveler, it doesn’t matter how wonderful your destination – getting there is not without its mishaps and aggravations for both the caregiver, and the cognitively impaired traveler.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ..........

(Photo credit: caribb)

Then there is the other side of the coin: imagine that you are a person with mid-stage Alzheimer’s or other dementia who is not accustomed to staying put – you actually wander constantly when you’re on the ground – and you’ve been put on an airplane by yourself and you have no concept of what is taking place.  You don’t have the capacity to understand that this metal tube in which you are sitting is a confined space and trying to “get home” is not an option.  If you can’t imagine that scenario read the attached article, Alzheimer’s “exit-seeking” behavior at 35,000 feet, an article I wrote shortly after returning from Bar Harbor, Maine in October 2012.

Being a caregiver or being cared for: there’s really no escape hatch.

In my post, President Obama says the “A” word: Alzheimer’s, I provided some Alzheimer’s statistics that focus on those who are predicted to be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or other dementia in the years to come.  I also talked about caregiver statistics.

One statistic that really resonates with me is the following: a new caregiver is set into action every 33 seconds because someone will develop Alzheimer’s every 33 seconds.  In actuality, the stats are far greater than that.  Caregivers are “created” every second of the day because there are countless diseases requiring the assistance of someone just like you and me – an unpaid caregiver for a loved one.  I use the distinction of “unpaid” so as not to be confused with those who work as caregivers in the health care industry.

The following statement is attributed to former First Lady of the United States, Rosalynn Carter:

There are only four kinds of people in the world – those who have been caregivers,

those who are currently caregivers,

those who will be caregivers, and

those who will need caregivers.

I really don’t think there’s any way around it.  How about you?  Have you dodged the caregiver or being-cared-for bullet yet?

President Obama Says the “A” Word: Alzheimer’s

President Obama Says the “A” Word: Alzheimer’s.

Lest you think that Alzheimer’s has nothing to do with you, look at the following statistics provided by the Alzheimer’s Association:

  • By the year 2050, nearly one million new cases will be diagnosed each year – that’s one American developing Alzheimer’s every 33 seconds.  Taken further, that most likely equates to nearly one and a half million new family caregivers each year – considering that at least one family member will be involved in managing a loved one’s care;
  • Ten million Baby Boomers will get Alzheimer’s;
  • On average, 40% of a person’s years with Alzheimer’s are spent in the most severe stage of the disease;
  • The number of Americans that die each year from Alzheimer’s disease has risen 66% since the year 2000;
  • Alzheimer’s is the sixth-leading cause of death in the United States;
  • Today, there are no Alzheimer’s survivors – none.

Please take time to read the article I’ve attached above and consider the following: We are going to pay for Alzheimer’s one way or the other – now, or later.

This is a disease that will affect you, your children, your grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and beyond.  Burying our heads in the sand won’t solve anything.  Please consider donating to the Alzheimer’s Association as well as contacting your state’s congressional leaders asking for greater federal funding for Alzheimer’s research.  Why?  Because of this staggering statistic:

According to the National Institute of Health, the federal government currently spends much less money on Alzheimer’s research, prevention, and cure than on other conditions such as cancer, heart disease, and HIV.

  • $6 billion for cancer;
  • $4 billion for heart disease;
  • $3 billion for HIV/AIDS; but just
  • $480 million for Alzheimer’s disease.

I’m not comfortable with those numbers – are you?

Conversating with those who have dementia.

Recent Conversation with Mom (Asking about my Mom).

The article above, written by blogger Richard Kenny, illustrates his ability to adapt to his mother’s dementia – especially when doing so involves carrying on a conversation with her.  I love how Richard has figured out how to get around the frustrations that can exist when “normal” and meaningful conversations are few and far between – and nonsensical ones become the norm.

My dad and I thirteen years ago; and seven years before Alzheimer's took him away from us.

My dad and I thirteen years ago; and seven years before Alzheimer’s took him away from us.

Going with the flow is the rule of the day, the month, and the year, if you want to avoid stressing out when trying to converse with someone who is not able to enter your reality.  The Alzheimer’s Association encourages this mantra: “If you don’t insist, they can’t resist.”  Go with it – and you just might enjoy yourself!

A Touch of Completion

2/6/13: Me & Mom.

A very brief blog entry from a fellow blogger.  Some of you on your caregiving journey – or those who have recently ended that journey – will understand what is being said here.

Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh!

Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh!.

I think you’ll all agree that humor can be found in almost every situation in which we find ourselves.  Even the distressing disease of dementia has its lighter moments.  The article above, by fellow blogger Don Desonier, provides a moment he had with his wonderful wife Nancy.  I think many of you will be able to visualize the scenario that this writer so adeptly describes.

Here’s a humorous story from my caregiving time with my father who died from Alzheimer’s complications in October 2007.  On one of my visits to his assisted living facility in Oregon, he asked me to help him change his hearing aid batteries.  So happy to have something to do that would benefit my father, I jumped at the opportunity to help him hear better – thereby greatly enhancing our conversational abilities.

Behind the ear aid

Behind the ear aid (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He pulled out his hearing aids and I pulled the dead batteries out and placed them on the coffee table.  I turned my back for a couple seconds and upon refocusing my attention, I saw that my father had put a dozen other batteries on the coffee table – MIXED IN with the two that no longer worked.  Had my father not put all the batteries in a pile I might have been able to readily discern the two recently removed batteries.  As it was, it took us forty-five minutes to test the batteries and as luck would have it, the used-up batteries were the last two we tested.

At least I got a laugh out of it – after the initial frustration – and dad seemed to get a kick out of the fact that I was giggling about the process.  And now more than five years later – I can still reflect on that experience with a smile on my face.

Dementia Transformation

Dementia Transformation.

The article above is from one of my favorite bloggers, Frangipani Singaporenicum.  Her journey as a caregiver involves her mother.  Her storytelling of what that involves is really quite genius.

English: Photograph of a Monarch Butterfly.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This article addresses the question as to whether or not the person with dementia is the same person they were prior to onset of disease; and if they are not  …

then who are they?

Once you’ve read her article I believe you’ll have a clearer perception of what dementia takes away – and leaves behind – during the progression of the disease.

Getting caught in the crossfire of someone’s bad day.

Know Someone Dealing With a Loved One With Dementia? Think on These Words.

I’ve attached, above, a link to a fellow blogger’s site.  The message is short and instructional.

What resonated with me about the statement provided in the link, is that each of us has experienced the after effects of walking in the midst of someone’s bad day and we inadvertently become the recipient of that bad day’s vibes.  And sometimes the shoe is on the other foot.  It’s unavoidable.  I guess that’s why the words of wisdom provided in the link, are words that we all need to take to heart.

The Challenge and Burden of Sharing Difficult News

The Challenge and Burden of Sharing Difficult News.

When I think about the subject of having to tell someone some bad news, I think of the conversation:  “I’m not gonna tell them – YOU tell them!”  “No, I’m not gonna tell them – YOU tell them!”

No one wants to be the harbinger of bad news – especially news that will change peoples’ lives forever.  When friends and family need to hear the news that someone in the family has recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or other dementia you wish it was as easy as the task you avoided at work – telling your cubical-mate that he has bad breath.  Nope – when lives are at stake – and quality of life issues are at stake – the ballgame changes – certainly not for the better.

In the attached article above, you’ll read the story about a family who had to make the agonizing decision about who to tell about a wife’s early dementia diagnosis – and when to tell them of the news.  What’s so beautiful about this husband’s telling of the story, is how much he took his wife’s feelings into account when determining the best conversational course to take.  The route he and his adult stepchildren chose was not one of denial, such as can be the case in some instances, rather, they faced the reality of this cosmic shift in their lives, and did what worked best for them and for their loved one.

Each circumstance is different – and those involved need to make appropriate decisions that fit the dynamics of their particular situation.  (It’s certainly not a one size fits all solution.)  And let’s face it – when someone starts out on this caregiving journey – it’s definitely a matter of on-the-job training.  In the above family – it appears to have been done quite well.