Life is pared down to its simplest form. Eat, sleep, watch movies on TV
By Barbara Pierce
Until recently, a memory care unit was a dark mystery to me, scary, incomprehensible.
Until a year ago, when I placed Donald, my ex-partner, into a memory care unit as his dementia had become so severe I couldn’t care for him.
I’ve learned that it’s really an OK place to live. OK if you have dementia that is.
Life is pared down to its simplest form. Eat, sleep, watch movies on TV.
That’s about all that goes on, all in a securely locked area.
These are about all the things Donald does. All he really is capable of doing. And sometimes he isn’t even able to do these basic things.
He has a team of people caring for him. If he walks around at night, there’s a person letting him walk, making sure he is safe, helping him up when he falls. In the morning, someone is there to help him put on his clothes and guide him to the dining room for breakfast where the food is always easy to eat, nothing that needs cutting.
Someone helps him shower. When his toilet gets plugged up or overflows — happens often — someone gets it working again.
When I visit, I change the toilet paper, as putting on a new roll is even too complicated for him. A staff person makes his bed, does his laundry, cleans his room.
There is a pleasant courtyard, with flowering hedges and trees, comfortable chairs under a huge umbrella, a walking area, all surrounded by a high fence.
Visiting him here did sadden me.
There is nothing left of this once bright, caring, thoughtful man.
I remind myself that none of us get out easily. He’s experiencing one of the worst ways to end a good life. But at this stage of his dementia, I don’t think he’s aware of that.
I remind myself to be thankful that he lives where he is safe and looked after. I couldn’t provide that.
Another thing that helps me feel OK about him being there is that the staff are well trained on how to deal with people with dementia. I believe that though dementia changes most aspects of life, it does not diminish a person’s need for respect and emotional well-being. These are adults with a disease; though they need as much care as a small child, they are not small children. Their core identity and feelings are still there.
In one facility, I observed a staff person repeatedly calling a dignified old man “Baby.” My heart ached for the old man as he should be spoken to as an adult. Research shows that when individuals with dementia feel respected, they are less likely to experience anxiety or agitation.
I’ve observed staff in Donald’s unit treat residents like adults and the environment is calm.
Patricia, for example, gets agitated every afternoon, insisting she has to pick up her kids from school. The staff member doesn’t remind her kids haven’t been in school for years. She just calmly says “Your husband just called to say he’ll pick up the kids today.” When Sally keeps asking “When will my husband be here?” the staff person doesn’t remind her he died years ago. She just says, “He should be here soon, when he’s done working.” When Donald takes several minutes to decide whether he wants a sandwich or pasta, she patiently waits for him to think it through.
I’ve learned much about communicating with him. After he’d been there for a week, I asked him, “How’s the food here?” He responded: “I don’t know, I haven’t eaten here yet.” He’d probably eaten at least 20 meals there. I learned don’t ask him anything that requires memory. Don’t put him on the spot.
I don’t ask him, “Do you remember when we did…whatever?” because he never remembers. Instead, I say things like “I remember when we watched the fireworks over the river. We stood on the bridge and saw these great fireworks on the Fourth.” With a big smile, he said “I remember that! I remember those fireworks!”
I’d prepare to visit with little stories to tell. By his responses to what I said, I learned he often doesn’t understand my words. Not at all. I might as well be speaking Chinese. I mostly just sit with him. And tell him how much I like seeing him. That always makes him smile.
In New York state, memory care units are a special unit in assisted living facilities, secure, for those who need full assistance. The facility must have certification as a special needs assisted living residence to care for those who are medically stable but need a secure environment.
For those with dementia who also need skilled nursing care, some nursing homes have special care units.
As care is costly, consider choosing a facility that accepts Medicaid for when his or her funds are depleted. Medicaid provides a supplement for those with assets less than $2,000.
Barbara Pierce is a retired licensed clinical social worker with many years of experience helping people. If you would like to purchase a copy of her book, “When You Come to the Edge: Aging” or if you have questions for her, contact her at barbarapierce06@yahoo.com.