What should I take on visits to see Dad at his dementia home?
Dear Grassflower: I know this is kind of a trivial question, but I visit Dad at his dementia home kind of regularly, and it’s pretty obvious he’s not the guy he used to be. He really doesn’t understand even the most mildly engaging conversation, and we can only talk for so long about the weather. I feel like as his mind fades away, I’m filling the void with nonsense and trivia, and it’s driving me insane. I need something for us to DO! I’m sure I also need a mental adjustment but I don’t know where to start!
– Rob K., Maryland
Simplify your conversations
You’ve already noticed by now that Dad isn’t who he used to be. His complex and analytical thinking really isn’t there any more, and you probably feel like you’re talking to a shell, or some broken-down robot that can’t POSSIBLY be your dad.
It’s important to realize that while some of Dad is gone forever and it’s okay to grieve that loss, he’s still alive and in there, and in order to make the most of your moments together, you’re going to have to share them at his speed and level of ability.
Dad can’t talk about his love of repairing cars any more? Let him talk about whatever he wants to, but LET HIM TALK. Don’t ask questions he can’t answer, because at best, it will just remind him of what he’s lost and it’s got to be frustrating! Instead, lead with open ended questions that don’t require knowledge to answer: isn’t it a lovely day? What kind of bird do you suppose that is? It’s SO red! (of course, YOU know it’s a cardinal, but it doesn’t matter if he thinks it’s an elephant!)
Less talking, more doing
Dad can still feel the warm sun on his face, so get outside and go for a walk, sit on the patio table, or just drive to Sonic, order milkshakes, and roll down the windows and let the breeze blow through.
Take field trips to nowhere in particular. Pack a picnic lunch and go feed the squirrels. If Dad feels like talking, let him talk. It doesn’t have to be a conversation.
But I don’t know what to do!
Here’s a thought: bring cookies.
But what’s in the bag?
Ah, yes, that. Because we must always be doing something, right?
Pack love. Love can come in any form, so I’m going to suggest Legos.
I used to bring a box of colored beads when I visited Mama. I’d ask her to help me sort them out because there were so many and I didn’t know where to start. It kept her occupied, she felt useful, it made her happy, and it gave me something to do besides worry.
The REAL point was to create time with my mom that was engaging enough but didn’t require full mental presence from either of us; something HER SPEED that we could do TOGETHER.
I know putting random Lego sculptures with Dad may sound somehow like taking a step down, like treating your Dad like he’s a third-grader.
It was a hard thing for ME to realize that sorting beads or working a jigsaw puzzle was the RIGHT thing to do with Mama, because before her dementia diagnosis, she had been a university professor and a bit of a computer wiz. But those days were gone, and more than anything, I wanted her to enjoy our visits.
The funny thing was, she didn’t care what I brought; and strangely, being forced to slow down and live in the moment with my mom provided a unique opportunity to just let the time flow over us.
In a way, it was like meditation. It required just enough attention to be aware of how the minutes passed into hours, and how swiftly those hours passed into days, and how few of those days were actually left.
It turned out it wasn’t boring at all and it DIDN’T drive me crazy. I looked forward to those moments and was sad when they were gone and I had to drive back home.
It only gradually dawned on me that it did not matter what we were doing, but that we were doing it together, and that it brought calm and joy to both of us.
I think you will find that if you choose to truly immerse yourself in your time with Dad, you will come to a similar understanding that for once, the world slowed down and the two of you could sit on a park bench on a lazy, warm, sunny afternoon, stare out at the sky together, and watch the clouds go by.
