Thanks to Kate Swaffer for sharing this:
Taken from India Times: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/health-fitness/health-news/5-simple-ways-to-help-someone-with-dementia/articleshow/35617213.cms?
Connect with the person
Often just finding out about a person's history can help you understand them better -and give you things to talk about.
One true story that proves this theory is about an old woman with dementia in a care home. She was always tapping on the table and irritating people, until one day someone discovered she worked at Bletchley Park during the war and helped crack the famous Enigma code. All her tapping was actually Morse code.
Make surrounding dementia-friendly
Dementia can affect perception and vision, so shiny floors look wet and slippery, or swirly carpets look like snakes. Being aware of this and looking out for potential problems can help. For example, labelling how things work -such as kettles or TVs.
Be patient with them
A person with dementia can get easily confused and this can be very frightening. Avoid showing signs of anger or frustration -give them plenty of time to speak and keep calm -this will ensure they don't feel unduly anxious or stressed.
Avoid correction them
It's natural to want to `help along' if someone keeps forgetting important facts or events, for instance finishing a sentence for them -but experience proves this can leave both parties frustrated. Try embracing what they can remember instead.
Be sure to reminisce
Short-term memory loss is often a first sign of dementia, but that doesn't mean long-term memories are forgotten. So sharing old stories from the past can still bring a smile to someone's face and make them feel like themselves.
- Daily Mirror
Showing posts with label Patience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patience. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Friday, January 30, 2015
Painting Class II
Today Gregory painted. For the second time at Lieberman. When I approached him early morning while he was watching TV in one of the wings, he was exited to see me. I asked, "Do you want to paint today?" He perked up even more and started babbling somewhere between "Yes indeed!" and "Wonderful!" If you were standing there you may not have heard what I did but Gregory's enthusiasm definitely came through.
We went down to the art room on the second floor and were greeted by Katharine who asked, "Do you want to paint today." Again Gregory definitely indicated that he did!
We got a paint shirt onto him (not easy) and laid out the glossy paper in the tray with the tubes of paint in a row above. Then the slow, tedious, wondering part began. Will this work? Will Gregory get involved again? Will he remember how to do this? Will he be successful at pushing the paint around? Will he have a second in a row success?
A glob of paint was squeezed onto the center of the paper but Gregory did nothing. We placed a hand onto the paper with the instruction, "OK, paint!" Nothing. Katharine moved his hand around as a way of stimulating Gregory's thinking/processing. Nothing. I took his hand and used his fingers to tap, tap, tap through the paint. Nothing.
At one point Gregory leaned forward, head down, eyes closed and sat still. Katharine and I waited. After a short while we began our encouraging again. We put his hand onto the paint and moved the hand in circles, up and down, tap tap tap. Gregory joined in a little but one could not say Gregory was painting.
It was difficult to keep Gregory's posture correct, to have him focus on the paint and paper, to help him keep his eyes open, to move his fingers and/or hands.
Katharine though that some peppy music might help so she put some Latin sounding, rhythmic music on the CD player. It did seem to help and Gregory was a little more alert and a little bit more focused.
We were aware that once Gregory's hand was in or over the glob of paint, the paint disappeared from view and most likely from awareness. We played with moving the tray closer, and further, and changed the angle. It all helped: music, tray movement, placing his hand and/or fingers in a way that he could see the paint beside it rather than covering it.
Gravity helped a little but you could tell that Gregory was getting more involved. Several times during his stopped inertia, we asked, "Do you want to paint?" and he answered either "Yes" or "I am painting."
It was interesting to see Katharine process her moves with Gregory. It was interesting to see how much effort Gregory was putting into getting his arms and hands to move and processing what he was supposed to be doing with this colorful blob of paint on this piece of white paper (Description is mine. Gregory was most likely blank but now and then something would click in.)
One move that was fun and seemed to help Gregory was Katherine taking one hand and me taking Gregory's other and in grand strokes moving his through the paint using large gross motor skills in time to the Latin rhythms. Gregory seemed to enjoy this and it facilitated his processing so he could continue briefly when we let go of his hands.
It took longer to get him started this time but we spent more time in the art room and he definitely had a good time. All three of us were pleased.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Invisible Wounds
Invisible wounds are the hardest to heal for their closure depends on the love of others. And patience, and understanding and the tender gift of time.
From Call the Midwife, Season 3, Episode 8
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Simplicity, Patience, Compassion
Enlightened
Heart
SIMPLICITY
PATIENCE
COMPASSION
A Poem by Lao-Tzu
571-??? B.C.
Edited by Stephen Mitchell
A copy of this post-it has lived on the side of Gregory's nightstand for years. Every night before closing the lights he would read the three words aloud: SIMPLICITY, PATIENCE, COMPASSION.
To this day, with all the very difficult times and changes he has gone through since Christmas 2013, Gregory continues to strongly hold onto these tenets in his daily actions.
Currently he has embraced and is comfortable at the Lieberman Center where his life is now the embodiment of SIMPLICITY. Minimum activity but routinely so. Blue jeans and a nice shirt but no need to think about how you look. Nutritious meals but predictable, nothing fancy. Same activities at the same time on the same day. Not many choices to ponder.
PATIENCE certainly as the hours, no the minutes, no the seconds pass in a row without much disruption or variation. Sitting and waiting for what comes next without much thought about what it is that will come next. It just arrives. In your chair by 4:00, at your table, in the dining room in time for a 4:30 dinner which isn't always delivered to you until a while later. Lots of waiting for little (according to my eye) reward. But to Gregory's eye, just part of life and his ability to be patient.
As we walk around the four sections of his floor, we stop at each oversized photograph of something Chicago and discuss it. Lake Michigan. Lincoln Park, Museums. Etc. Every now and then we pass someone in the hall. Someone in a wheel chair, quiet, unable to do for themselves, mostly unable to communicate. Sometimes a hand is stretched out towards us. As we pass, each time someone calls out or reaches out, a holding of hands. Gregory will respond with a look of love, a gesture of caring, a smile. COMPASSION. Compassion personified!
Boy I love that man.
Currently he has embraced and is comfortable at the Lieberman Center where his life is now the embodiment of SIMPLICITY. Minimum activity but routinely so. Blue jeans and a nice shirt but no need to think about how you look. Nutritious meals but predictable, nothing fancy. Same activities at the same time on the same day. Not many choices to ponder.
PATIENCE certainly as the hours, no the minutes, no the seconds pass in a row without much disruption or variation. Sitting and waiting for what comes next without much thought about what it is that will come next. It just arrives. In your chair by 4:00, at your table, in the dining room in time for a 4:30 dinner which isn't always delivered to you until a while later. Lots of waiting for little (according to my eye) reward. But to Gregory's eye, just part of life and his ability to be patient.
As we walk around the four sections of his floor, we stop at each oversized photograph of something Chicago and discuss it. Lake Michigan. Lincoln Park, Museums. Etc. Every now and then we pass someone in the hall. Someone in a wheel chair, quiet, unable to do for themselves, mostly unable to communicate. Sometimes a hand is stretched out towards us. As we pass, each time someone calls out or reaches out, a holding of hands. Gregory will respond with a look of love, a gesture of caring, a smile. COMPASSION. Compassion personified!
Boy I love that man.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
To Breathe, To See, To Live
The Gregory we know and love only exists in our memories now. He is still handsome although seems older. He is still playful although on a simpler level. He responds and replies but at a lower level.
His world is safe and comfortable although on a very narrow scale. His routine is established but only with guidance and at a less active pace. He is full of love, patience, and compassion as he tries to help other residents around him.
He is still full of the wonder of life although the amazement is often at the common. His memories and experiences may still be there but they are not available to him.
He loves to walk and explore but now only around the secure unit. He is creative and artistic but now with crayons and paper. He still loves to eat although mostly with his fingers, being grateful for what ever is on his plate.
He lives in the moment and by watching him do so, I have learned to do so as well. We hold hands, we stroll the halls together, I sit with him at meals, we watch re-runs of old TV shows, we read aloud, we have a snack or some chocolate, we just sit together, we lie together head on shoulder in his narrow bed.
Yet more gifts Gregory has given me lately is knowing how to live in the moment, knowing how much is enough, having unqualified compassion for others, the true value of not only forgiveness for others but mostly forgiveness of self, finally allowing patience to come easily and without fear of the future.
I love this man so much. I am grateful that he has taught me how to love him in the moment because if I try to remember the good times, the past times, or to grieve the future times ... at least for the time being ... I do not think I will be able to breath for the sobs, to see for the tears, to live for the loss.
His world is safe and comfortable although on a very narrow scale. His routine is established but only with guidance and at a less active pace. He is full of love, patience, and compassion as he tries to help other residents around him.
He is still full of the wonder of life although the amazement is often at the common. His memories and experiences may still be there but they are not available to him.
He loves to walk and explore but now only around the secure unit. He is creative and artistic but now with crayons and paper. He still loves to eat although mostly with his fingers, being grateful for what ever is on his plate.
He lives in the moment and by watching him do so, I have learned to do so as well. We hold hands, we stroll the halls together, I sit with him at meals, we watch re-runs of old TV shows, we read aloud, we have a snack or some chocolate, we just sit together, we lie together head on shoulder in his narrow bed.
Yet more gifts Gregory has given me lately is knowing how to live in the moment, knowing how much is enough, having unqualified compassion for others, the true value of not only forgiveness for others but mostly forgiveness of self, finally allowing patience to come easily and without fear of the future.
I love this man so much. I am grateful that he has taught me how to love him in the moment because if I try to remember the good times, the past times, or to grieve the future times ... at least for the time being ... I do not think I will be able to breath for the sobs, to see for the tears, to live for the loss.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Friday, December 27, 2013
Patience
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Monday, September 2, 2013
Going, Going, Gone
Maybe I should just keep record on a separate piece of paper instead of posting it to my BLOG but this way I can: 1) process, 2) share, 3) record, 4) maintain, 5) save, 6) cry.
SO FAR THIS MORNING: Gregory could not take simple directions on how to get his shaver to stop squeaking (at least he did figure out how to plug it in) so he had to wait until I finished my use of the bathroom (read taking a dump) to help him. We are not shy so use the bathroom together. It actually gives me the opportunity to monitor him without seeming like spying. But even my private moments have become his.
Next I had to remind him to put on deodorant and face cream. He could not find them so I opened the medicine chest and pointed. He was able to put the correct product on the correct area of his anatomy so I guess I should be grateful.
Then he put on his underwear (I missed noting if they were right side or backwards but guess that doesn't really matter) and sweats without my help. Fist time this week! So I guess I should be grateful. Doesn't necessarily mean anything for tomorrow.
As he was leaving the bedroom I mentioned, "Your paper is on your desk."
He headed towards the front door. I called him back and said, "Your (corrected the word) NEWSpaper is on your DESK."
He headed toward the front door again. "On your desk." "WHERE YOUR NEWSPAPER IS EVERY MORNING! Do you know where your DESK is?"
"Yes, out there."
"Yes, out there," I reinforced.
Then the numbness, and tears, and confusion, and not knowing how to "fix" this type of interaction, and the fear of the future, and depression (and only a tiny bit of anger) follow.
Then the processing for the BLOG begins. Luckily I had made my first cup of coffee before all this began.
Simultaneously through all this Emma, my kitty (GiGi is Gregory's kitty,) brings me her Krinkle Ball so we can play fetch. A little bit of unqualified love from my kitty and processing from my BLOG make me feel a little better.
Perhaps making some signs for important places that Gregory does not seem to be able to make associations between the word and the place would help? Don't feel really optimistic about this but I will try.
Perhaps I need to make sure that I do not begin to meet my own needs (like taking a dump) until Gregory is finished with all of his and settled. Problem being that often when I think he is settled, a new aspect of getting settled doesn't work for him. But I will try.
At least I was not mean to him. I think I appeared patient on the outside but even feel guilty about what was going on inside, isn't that silly? I will try.
Last night we watched "Call for the Midwives" on PBS, a British program about post WWII and a group of midwives and nuns in England. Excellent second season.
A baby is born with Spina Biffida. Medical know how will make the baby's life as comfortable as possible but one of the nuns talked about the early days when the best thing to do for the baby was to help it die comfortably. Even in the church, that was acceptable.
After trying to help the parents but failing to help them deal the diagnosis, the head nun tells the grieving midwife, "Sometimes one has to admit defeat and move on. There is a lot more of life that needs to be lived."
I identify.
Today, this came across my mail:
Meanwhile, this is a list I have been keeping for a while.
GOING GOING GONE
Taking pills - comes and goes.
Putting a belt on - usually gone.
Using mouth wash - gone.
Word bathroom - gone.
Understanding most words - almost gone.
Using most words - almost gone.
Brushing teeth - comes and goes
Reading at bedtime - almost gone.
Going for a walk by himself - gone.
Picking out his own clothes - gone.
Getting ready for bed - comes and goes.
Shaving in the morning - comes and goes.
Getting dressed - comes and goes.
Toileting - comes and goes.
Communicating with words - gone.
Using a fork and knife - comes and goes.
Navigating the food on a dinner plate - comes and goes.
Fastening his seatbelt in the car - comes and goes.
Using a urinal when out - comes and goes.
Controlling flatulence - comes and goes.
Comprehension of TV - uncertain.
Helping make the bed - comes and goes.
SO FAR THIS MORNING: Gregory could not take simple directions on how to get his shaver to stop squeaking (at least he did figure out how to plug it in) so he had to wait until I finished my use of the bathroom (read taking a dump) to help him. We are not shy so use the bathroom together. It actually gives me the opportunity to monitor him without seeming like spying. But even my private moments have become his.
Next I had to remind him to put on deodorant and face cream. He could not find them so I opened the medicine chest and pointed. He was able to put the correct product on the correct area of his anatomy so I guess I should be grateful.
Then he put on his underwear (I missed noting if they were right side or backwards but guess that doesn't really matter) and sweats without my help. Fist time this week! So I guess I should be grateful. Doesn't necessarily mean anything for tomorrow.
As he was leaving the bedroom I mentioned, "Your paper is on your desk."
He headed towards the front door. I called him back and said, "Your (corrected the word) NEWSpaper is on your DESK."
He headed toward the front door again. "On your desk." "WHERE YOUR NEWSPAPER IS EVERY MORNING! Do you know where your DESK is?"
"Yes, out there."
"Yes, out there," I reinforced.
Then the numbness, and tears, and confusion, and not knowing how to "fix" this type of interaction, and the fear of the future, and depression (and only a tiny bit of anger) follow.
Then the processing for the BLOG begins. Luckily I had made my first cup of coffee before all this began.
Simultaneously through all this Emma, my kitty (GiGi is Gregory's kitty,) brings me her Krinkle Ball so we can play fetch. A little bit of unqualified love from my kitty and processing from my BLOG make me feel a little better.
Perhaps making some signs for important places that Gregory does not seem to be able to make associations between the word and the place would help? Don't feel really optimistic about this but I will try.
Perhaps I need to make sure that I do not begin to meet my own needs (like taking a dump) until Gregory is finished with all of his and settled. Problem being that often when I think he is settled, a new aspect of getting settled doesn't work for him. But I will try.
At least I was not mean to him. I think I appeared patient on the outside but even feel guilty about what was going on inside, isn't that silly? I will try.
Last night we watched "Call for the Midwives" on PBS, a British program about post WWII and a group of midwives and nuns in England. Excellent second season.
A baby is born with Spina Biffida. Medical know how will make the baby's life as comfortable as possible but one of the nuns talked about the early days when the best thing to do for the baby was to help it die comfortably. Even in the church, that was acceptable.
After trying to help the parents but failing to help them deal the diagnosis, the head nun tells the grieving midwife, "Sometimes one has to admit defeat and move on. There is a lot more of life that needs to be lived."
I identify.
Today, this came across my mail:
So does that mean that what I am experiencing is neither good nor bad? It only is? Is what I am going through bringing me closer to achieving great and perfect equality? And if all of this is true, how am I going to get through this journey to the end? Time will tell, but I will try.
Meanwhile, this is a list I have been keeping for a while.
GOING GOING GONE
Taking pills - comes and goes.
Putting a belt on - usually gone.
Using mouth wash - gone.
Word bathroom - gone.
Understanding most words - almost gone.
Using most words - almost gone.
Brushing teeth - comes and goes
Reading at bedtime - almost gone.
Going for a walk by himself - gone.
Picking out his own clothes - gone.
Getting ready for bed - comes and goes.
Shaving in the morning - comes and goes.
Getting dressed - comes and goes.
Toileting - comes and goes.
Communicating with words - gone.
Using a fork and knife - comes and goes.
Navigating the food on a dinner plate - comes and goes.
Fastening his seatbelt in the car - comes and goes.
Using a urinal when out - comes and goes.
Controlling flatulence - comes and goes.
Comprehension of TV - uncertain.
Helping make the bed - comes and goes.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
An Interesting Phenomenon
I have been noticing an interesting phenomenon with Ken's living with us. When Gregory needs help with some things, he goes to Ken for that help. I do not mind but have been observing and have learned a few lessons based on my observations.
Ken is always, and I mean always patient with Gregory. I am not.
Ken is always fast on the ready to help or do something for Gregory while often I will make him figure things out by himself.
Ken will be supportive and positive while at times I become angry, frustrated, concerned, worried for the future based on an imagined, new, or periodic failure on Gregory's part.
I do not want to seem judgmental towards Ken or myself, just observant of the differences. The lesson here, however, is that Gregory TRUSTS Ken to deal with some things that he doesn't TRUST me to deal with.
For example, after hundreds of times helping or instructing Gregory on how to put on his "Medic-Alert" necklace, now I just tell him, "Just do what you can, it doesn't matter." Ken still spends the time trying to verbally tell Gregory how to put on the necklace. Other times I just take it out of Gregory's hand and put it on for him. I have never seen Ken do this.
My very "in touch niece" Colleen once drew an understanding about cats and how they will continually come back to you based on the MARGIN OF TRUST you allow them. You can discipline them or step on their tail accidentally, but they will still come to you to get pet and will purr and love you.
For example, you can hold them firmly, but when they really, really want to get down and when they show you this with their squirming, you put them down. The trust continues. You may swat the cat when it is chewing on a book in your library, but they still trust you. If you swat them all the time, however, or continue to hold them against their will, the trust margin decreases.
So my lesson with observing Ken and Gregory's interactions is that I need to be very careful not to extinguish that margin of trust which Gregory has for me, my intentions, my being here to help. The last thing I would want to do is inadvertently cause him to be afraid to come to me for help.
Ken is always, and I mean always patient with Gregory. I am not.
Ken is always fast on the ready to help or do something for Gregory while often I will make him figure things out by himself.
Ken will be supportive and positive while at times I become angry, frustrated, concerned, worried for the future based on an imagined, new, or periodic failure on Gregory's part.
I do not want to seem judgmental towards Ken or myself, just observant of the differences. The lesson here, however, is that Gregory TRUSTS Ken to deal with some things that he doesn't TRUST me to deal with.
For example, after hundreds of times helping or instructing Gregory on how to put on his "Medic-Alert" necklace, now I just tell him, "Just do what you can, it doesn't matter." Ken still spends the time trying to verbally tell Gregory how to put on the necklace. Other times I just take it out of Gregory's hand and put it on for him. I have never seen Ken do this.
My very "in touch niece" Colleen once drew an understanding about cats and how they will continually come back to you based on the MARGIN OF TRUST you allow them. You can discipline them or step on their tail accidentally, but they will still come to you to get pet and will purr and love you.
For example, you can hold them firmly, but when they really, really want to get down and when they show you this with their squirming, you put them down. The trust continues. You may swat the cat when it is chewing on a book in your library, but they still trust you. If you swat them all the time, however, or continue to hold them against their will, the trust margin decreases.
So my lesson with observing Ken and Gregory's interactions is that I need to be very careful not to extinguish that margin of trust which Gregory has for me, my intentions, my being here to help. The last thing I would want to do is inadvertently cause him to be afraid to come to me for help.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Joyful Heart
Noticed that recently I have been in a good place. Not sure if Gregory has plateaued for the time being or if I have. I have been calm, patient, understanding, respectful. I have felt peaceful at a 9.5 out of 10 level. It feels good to feel good. Few if any apologies necessary, little if any guilt, lots if even abundant amounts of love.
Why? On one hand don't question or analyze the feelings just enjoy them. On the other hand look, learn, and grow.
Maybe things feel good because of how well our "Nobel Experiment" is working with Ken, Gregory's companion, living with us and while not needed all the time, being available 24/7.
Maybe Gregory is at a new plateau and we have learned how to deal with and accept the new challenges.
Maybe I have grown and continue to do so with the progress of my meditation and yoga classes with Corinne.
Maybe it is SPRING and the warmer weather and smell of tulips and hyacinths in the flower market air.
Maybe it is because of the renewed flow of creativity with my new endeavor at The Galleria, belonging to an artist collective, having a space in which to sell the results of my creativity, having fun with marketing and signage and display.
Whatever the reason, it feels good.
Why? On one hand don't question or analyze the feelings just enjoy them. On the other hand look, learn, and grow.
Maybe things feel good because of how well our "Nobel Experiment" is working with Ken, Gregory's companion, living with us and while not needed all the time, being available 24/7.
Maybe Gregory is at a new plateau and we have learned how to deal with and accept the new challenges.
Maybe I have grown and continue to do so with the progress of my meditation and yoga classes with Corinne.
Maybe it is SPRING and the warmer weather and smell of tulips and hyacinths in the flower market air.
Maybe it is because of the renewed flow of creativity with my new endeavor at The Galleria, belonging to an artist collective, having a space in which to sell the results of my creativity, having fun with marketing and signage and display.
Whatever the reason, it feels good.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Some Mornings
Some mornings he wakes up and nothing seems to work.
This morning he ran into problems with shaving. Shaver in hand, he called me into the bathroom trying to tell me something, but never was able to get to it. He pointed at the shaver, and then the mirror and said, "There is a little something."
That is as far as we got after his attempting to communicate several times. I waited patiently, guessed at a few things, and finally told him just to shave, which he did.
A little while later he called me again with the "light bulb" having gone on again, he struggled to tell me what he had realized, and failed again ... another dark communication. We have been up for 30 minutes.
He did OK beginning his shower, I was in the bedroom when I heard him shouting "Help! Help!" I came running to find that he was finished showering and had begun to turn the water off but only did so half way and was standing in the cold stream of water still coming out of the shower head.
I turned the water hot again so he could warm up and then we turned it off together. Actually he did so by himself without any help, just my standing there which made it a little more frustrating and confusing.
Next he struggled to put on his sweatshirt, arm through the head hole and out the sleeve. He kept mumbling, "No that's not right" and continued trying to figure out how to put it on. He sat down on the bed for a while seemingly trying to regroup. I held back and he finally did figure out how to put the shirt on.
We have been up for an hour.
While he was reading the newspaper, I set out the cutting board with his bread and honey and announced, "Your bead and honey are ready." He thanked me and came over to begin preparing his first of the morning food. I returned to the bedroom.
Some five or ten minutes later I went out to see how he was doing. He was standing by the toaster, looking back at the cutting board, and back and forth again and again.
He was unable to connect the toast needing to go into the toaster and the button needing to be pressed. We worked through the process together.
When the toaster was finished and his toast popped up, he asked, "Does that turn it off?"
I am grateful that he sought my help, that he was able to begin shaving and then to finish, that he was able to take a dump without my help, that he was able to shower for the most part, that he was finally able to figure out how to get dressed, that he kissed my head as he left the bedroom and said, "I love you," that he was able to read the newspaper, that he was able to eat his toast after putting on the honey, and that he was able to go back to his newspaper.
I am grateful that I was able to keep my patience, not jump in to help too quickly, that I didn't get emotionally involved, that I was able to move from one difficulty to the next without anger, and that he kissed me on the head and said, "I love you."
I am frightened that we are getting closer to my having to more closely supervise his shaving and showering, physically helping him get dressed, and not only making his breakfast but also toasting his first up before breakfast snack because when confused verbal instructions do not work.
We have been up for two hours.
This morning he ran into problems with shaving. Shaver in hand, he called me into the bathroom trying to tell me something, but never was able to get to it. He pointed at the shaver, and then the mirror and said, "There is a little something."
That is as far as we got after his attempting to communicate several times. I waited patiently, guessed at a few things, and finally told him just to shave, which he did.
A little while later he called me again with the "light bulb" having gone on again, he struggled to tell me what he had realized, and failed again ... another dark communication. We have been up for 30 minutes.
He did OK beginning his shower, I was in the bedroom when I heard him shouting "Help! Help!" I came running to find that he was finished showering and had begun to turn the water off but only did so half way and was standing in the cold stream of water still coming out of the shower head.
I turned the water hot again so he could warm up and then we turned it off together. Actually he did so by himself without any help, just my standing there which made it a little more frustrating and confusing.
Next he struggled to put on his sweatshirt, arm through the head hole and out the sleeve. He kept mumbling, "No that's not right" and continued trying to figure out how to put it on. He sat down on the bed for a while seemingly trying to regroup. I held back and he finally did figure out how to put the shirt on.
We have been up for an hour.
While he was reading the newspaper, I set out the cutting board with his bread and honey and announced, "Your bead and honey are ready." He thanked me and came over to begin preparing his first of the morning food. I returned to the bedroom.
Some five or ten minutes later I went out to see how he was doing. He was standing by the toaster, looking back at the cutting board, and back and forth again and again.
He was unable to connect the toast needing to go into the toaster and the button needing to be pressed. We worked through the process together.
When the toaster was finished and his toast popped up, he asked, "Does that turn it off?"
I am grateful that he sought my help, that he was able to begin shaving and then to finish, that he was able to take a dump without my help, that he was able to shower for the most part, that he was finally able to figure out how to get dressed, that he kissed my head as he left the bedroom and said, "I love you," that he was able to read the newspaper, that he was able to eat his toast after putting on the honey, and that he was able to go back to his newspaper.
I am grateful that I was able to keep my patience, not jump in to help too quickly, that I didn't get emotionally involved, that I was able to move from one difficulty to the next without anger, and that he kissed me on the head and said, "I love you."
I am frightened that we are getting closer to my having to more closely supervise his shaving and showering, physically helping him get dressed, and not only making his breakfast but also toasting his first up before breakfast snack because when confused verbal instructions do not work.
We have been up for two hours.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Meditation
Last week in my Nidra Yoga Meditation class I realized that instead of being better able to deal with my impatience and at times lack of compassion for Gregory, I needed to work on dealing with the feeling that I get in my chest when an interaction or communication with Gregory goes awry. If I can identify the "feeling" when it arrives and diffuse it, I will be patient and compassionate even more than I usually am. It is the confusion, fear, and anger behind the "feeling" that causes me to be impatient. One step closer to perfection '-)
I am taking a class at the Heartwood Center in Evanston with Corinne Peterson.
http://www.corinnepeterson.com/yoga-therapy/
I am taking a class at the Heartwood Center in Evanston with Corinne Peterson.
http://www.corinnepeterson.com/yoga-therapy/
Friday, November 16, 2012
Lotion Logistics
This morning he was rubbing his chin as though it was irritated from shaving. "Did you put lotion on your face after shaving?" I asked.
Sure enough he hadn't, so he got out the lotion, figured out how to take off the cap, poured a quarter size amount on his hand, spread it on both hands, and proceeded to work the lotion well into his hair.
When I reviewed this with him, he attempted again.
He poured a quarter size amount of lotion on his hand, spread it on both hands, and continued to work it well into his hands, front and back, and each finger until the lotion was completely absorbed.
When I reviewed this next phase with him, he got a little frustrated and confused. So I tried to explain, "The lotion is for your face because it is irritated after shaving."
As I said this I put my hands to my face by way of demonstration while at the same time thinking that I was probably only adding to his confusion by the fact that my face is bearded and his is not.
By now I am thinking that he probably doesn't remember what it is we are trying to do so I started over.
Why don't you put some lotion on your face. He again picked up the lotion bottle, figured again out how to take off the cap, poured a quarter size amount on his hand, spread it on both hands, looked up at me for approval, received it, and then put it on his face and rubbed it in.
Mission accomplished (but not easily and not without a lot of patience - probably on both of our parts.)
Sure enough he hadn't, so he got out the lotion, figured out how to take off the cap, poured a quarter size amount on his hand, spread it on both hands, and proceeded to work the lotion well into his hair.
When I reviewed this with him, he attempted again.
He poured a quarter size amount of lotion on his hand, spread it on both hands, and continued to work it well into his hands, front and back, and each finger until the lotion was completely absorbed.
When I reviewed this next phase with him, he got a little frustrated and confused. So I tried to explain, "The lotion is for your face because it is irritated after shaving."
As I said this I put my hands to my face by way of demonstration while at the same time thinking that I was probably only adding to his confusion by the fact that my face is bearded and his is not.
By now I am thinking that he probably doesn't remember what it is we are trying to do so I started over.
Why don't you put some lotion on your face. He again picked up the lotion bottle, figured again out how to take off the cap, poured a quarter size amount on his hand, spread it on both hands, looked up at me for approval, received it, and then put it on his face and rubbed it in.
Mission accomplished (but not easily and not without a lot of patience - probably on both of our parts.)
Sunday, October 28, 2012
There Are Good Days
Try as I might to post about the good days, it is most often the bad ones that send me to my computer to contemplate, to process, to poeticize.
So when you see a string of posts, you can probably guess that the marry-go-round is spinning wildly out of control.
When you see a string of NO-posts, you can probably assume that for the most part things are mostly under control and I am coping.
Under any of these scenarios you may assume that Gregory feels content, happy, and safe.
As he signs off each evening, reading aloud the words I printed on a Post-It from a poem called "The Enlightened Heart:"
So when you see a string of posts, you can probably guess that the marry-go-round is spinning wildly out of control.
When you see a string of NO-posts, you can probably assume that for the most part things are mostly under control and I am coping.
Under any of these scenarios you may assume that Gregory feels content, happy, and safe.
As he signs off each evening, reading aloud the words I printed on a Post-It from a poem called "The Enlightened Heart:"
SIMPLICITY, PATIENCE, and COMPASSION."
These are his guidelines and my aspirations.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Gregory's Mantra
I may have written about this before but it is worth doing again.
Every night before Gregory goes to bed he recites his "mantra." The mantra comes from a poem by Lao Tzu (born around 571) in a book called "The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry" edited by Stephen Mitchell.
The poem in its entirety reads:
“Simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and thoughts, you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.”
― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
Every night before Gregory goes to bed he recites his "mantra:"
Simplicity, patience, compassion ... as Gregory returns to his source of being, as he lives with the way things are, as he reconciles his here and now in the world.
Every night before Gregory goes to bed he recites his "mantra." The mantra comes from a poem by Lao Tzu (born around 571) in a book called "The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry" edited by Stephen Mitchell.
The poem in its entirety reads:
“Simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and thoughts, you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.”
― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
Every night before Gregory goes to bed he recites his "mantra:"
Simplicity
Patience
Compassion
Simplicity, patience, compassion ... as Gregory returns to his source of being, as he lives with the way things are, as he reconciles his here and now in the world.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Suffering
A lovely quote posted by Lily on Facebook:
"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable."
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh
(Pictured: Anne and Charles Lindbergh)
"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable."
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh
(Pictured: Anne and Charles Lindbergh)
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Grateful Series
Although this BLOG is my place to process, rant, and share; I keep telling myself that I should write as well about things when they feel good, are going well, are successful.
Today, I am grateful that Gregory was able to get most of his breakfast together. I really mean it. He came and appropriately asked for help when he couldn't figure out how to get the fish out of the open tin and onto his crackers, he wasn't sure what was missing in his bowl of cereal and fruit that was lacking the soy milk, and he needed help figuring out that a tea bag is necessary with hot water.
But I really am grateful that he asked for help, did most everything else without my help, that I did not loose my patience, that my voice while helping was even, loving, and respectful, and that I do not feel like a train wreck. It's going to be a good day!
Today, I am grateful that Gregory was able to get most of his breakfast together. I really mean it. He came and appropriately asked for help when he couldn't figure out how to get the fish out of the open tin and onto his crackers, he wasn't sure what was missing in his bowl of cereal and fruit that was lacking the soy milk, and he needed help figuring out that a tea bag is necessary with hot water.
But I really am grateful that he asked for help, did most everything else without my help, that I did not loose my patience, that my voice while helping was even, loving, and respectful, and that I do not feel like a train wreck. It's going to be a good day!
Friday, April 20, 2012
A Technique
These ideas are taken from The Diamond Cutter: The Buddha on Managing your Business and Your Life by Geshe Michael Roach and Lama Christie McNally. Yes another "self help" book. But the concepts discussed within have made sense and have been working for me. The book was recommended by my nephew Mark and I appreciate him for it.
One meditative activity the book talks about is called "Setting the Day with Silent Time." This is my version of setting the day. It actually starts the night before as you are going to sleep by thinking about the best three things you did or said or thought during that day. Then think of the three worst things and forgive yourself. Think ahead to your first waking thoughts and remind yourself to "set the day."
After you have woken up and taken care of your bodily needs, washed your face, etc, go to a quiet place in your home, sit comfortably and concentrate on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Deep breaths. Try to count ten of them without allowing yourself to be distracted. If you get distracted try concentrating on the next ten without distraction. It will get easier. If you would like, then try thinking about NOTHING. I continue to concentrate on my breathing but with less focus. Next think about one of the problems you are facing and think about how you might approach it differently then you have in the past. Picture the problem dissolving as you take this different approach.
For me, I have been working on being supportive and loving while in the midst the "CRAZINESS" of Gregory and my interactions which are usually informed and interpreted by his Alzheimer's. My remaining calm, clear, and helpful with a loving supportive voice that is respectful but also helpful and that does not treat him like a child or like less of a person is quite a feat and one that I am not as good at as I would like to be. PATIENCE! in other words.
So I have started "Setting the Day" with a brief meditation and then picturing how I want to behave in the above described situations. I picture myself being calm, helpful, loving, respectful, even voiced. And guess what. Today after a week or so, I began seeing results. It feels good and I am able to stay out of the "bad interaction, anger, guilt, apology" cycle and around and around. Now I will meditate and picture my being able to be automatic MOST of the time as well as forgiving myself when I am not SOME of the time.
Does any of this make sense to you? Try it. Buy the book. Read it.
One meditative activity the book talks about is called "Setting the Day with Silent Time." This is my version of setting the day. It actually starts the night before as you are going to sleep by thinking about the best three things you did or said or thought during that day. Then think of the three worst things and forgive yourself. Think ahead to your first waking thoughts and remind yourself to "set the day."
After you have woken up and taken care of your bodily needs, washed your face, etc, go to a quiet place in your home, sit comfortably and concentrate on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Deep breaths. Try to count ten of them without allowing yourself to be distracted. If you get distracted try concentrating on the next ten without distraction. It will get easier. If you would like, then try thinking about NOTHING. I continue to concentrate on my breathing but with less focus. Next think about one of the problems you are facing and think about how you might approach it differently then you have in the past. Picture the problem dissolving as you take this different approach.
For me, I have been working on being supportive and loving while in the midst the "CRAZINESS" of Gregory and my interactions which are usually informed and interpreted by his Alzheimer's. My remaining calm, clear, and helpful with a loving supportive voice that is respectful but also helpful and that does not treat him like a child or like less of a person is quite a feat and one that I am not as good at as I would like to be. PATIENCE! in other words.
So I have started "Setting the Day" with a brief meditation and then picturing how I want to behave in the above described situations. I picture myself being calm, helpful, loving, respectful, even voiced. And guess what. Today after a week or so, I began seeing results. It feels good and I am able to stay out of the "bad interaction, anger, guilt, apology" cycle and around and around. Now I will meditate and picture my being able to be automatic MOST of the time as well as forgiving myself when I am not SOME of the time.
Does any of this make sense to you? Try it. Buy the book. Read it.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
A Reply
Michael,
Okay, you said not to answer the blog: BUT I AM NOT OBEDIENT! We get angry and loose our patience because we get tired, we get frightened and we are human. Tomorrow is another day and we will pick up the pieces and try some more because we care and we love and we are imperfect. So working, tired, imperfect person, know that you are loved by another imperfect person.
JL
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Why?
You are not invited to answer this. Most people do not comment anyway and this time you are off the hook. This is a rhetorical blog.
The question is why am I so angry? Why do I loose my temper? Why am I at times close to raging?
Why can't I just be accepting? Why can't I just be patient? Why can't I just be calm?
Every night G reads three words he asked me to post on his night table: SIMPLICITY, PATIENCE, COMPASSION. G is and has all three. Why can't I master that?
I am forgiving and so is he!
The question is why am I so angry? Why do I loose my temper? Why am I at times close to raging?
Why can't I just be accepting? Why can't I just be patient? Why can't I just be calm?
Every night G reads three words he asked me to post on his night table: SIMPLICITY, PATIENCE, COMPASSION. G is and has all three. Why can't I master that?
I am forgiving and so is he!
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