How do you teach someone to use the computer through glass? That was the question when my brother tried to teach my father how to use his new i-Pad. Are people with dementia able to learn new material? An additional challenge is his hearing. Using a phone while teaching would be good, but he cannot hear instructions. Would larger visuals help? Posters? A whiteboard on an easel?
The text read as follows: iPad lessons, happening now, hard!!! After my last visit, I can only imagine. My father probably was shaking his head in confusion most of the time. My brother and nephew were probably standing outside the window, wishing someone from Best Buy would miraculously appear and begin teaching him.
However, when I take time to look at this picture, one word keeps popping in my head: love. My brother loves Dad so much that he takes time to teach him through the glass. He knows it will take time, but he is willing to do whatever it takes to help Dad communicate while in isolation. He knows that it will be frustrating for everyone, but he persists. Loving your aging parent means you sacrifice, persist, and continuously search for answers to life’s challenges.
Through the glass, we communicated, although the challenge was real. Through the glass, I could see him, frail and alone. Through the glass, I observed and felt his emotions.
After moving, I arranged a time to see my father, through the glass. We arrived at ten and found him, sitting behind the glass, waving and crying. We communicated with smiles and then the nurse brought a phone. It gave me a real appreciation for jailed inmates, communicating with family members.
At times, though, the comedy made me giggle. While trying to show him a hug, he thought I was telling him I was pregnant. When I tried to communicate that we were moving our stuff from Michigan to Indiana, Corey had to drive the van closer, open the back door, and then point to the stuffed boxes in back. It was a constant game of charades since he could not really hear using the phone.
I could allow rivers of tears to flow over this moment, but I refuse. Instead, I will choose joy. I choose joy when I think of this moment, a time to encourage him despite the distance. I choose joy because I know that he is in a safe place. I choose joy because he is my father and I love him while this crazy COVID- 19 continues.
Another move… If I had to give a grade for this move, the highest grade would be a C-. To me, a grade of a C means average and the minus means a step below it.
I was woefully unprepared for the amount of items we needed to move. Originally, I had planned on sending items home with Mitch on his weekend visits, but COVID-19 changed all those plans. When I moved my father out of his condo, I inherited some items which added to the move. Teaching first graders meant books, props, and papers. Living in Michigan meant that snow could arrive on a moment’s notice. My frequent thrift store scrounging meant I collected a vast array of treasures, always intended for a Michigan garage sale.
As a result, we moved piles of STUFF using a trailer borrowed from the Tuinstras filled to the max, and Mitch’s red truck, filled to the brim, and our van, filled with stuff items in every spot imaginable. Our timetable for the move included Friday night and Saturday, and now– 5524 needs to find new areas for all this stuff. Sigh.
On top of it were the emotions. I tried to fight back tears as I moved everything and realized that my original plans of thrifting with my cousins, beaching it with Gwyn, art museum visits with decorator Kristi, and various school visits were finished. The tears didn’t really have a chance, though. When you move with a bunch of males, emotions take a back door. We had a job to complete and emotions don’t fit in with that equation.
Despite the early three month departure, it doesn’t necessarily mean an end. All of the activities once planned can still happen, just later. The relationships can continue but just differently. So many relationships were deepened while in Michigan. A mere three hour drive doesn’t need to end them.
You requested to be reminded for the following event: Bert/ Marianne’s Anniversary Event Date: Friday, April 17, 2020 This reminder is setup to email you annually.
email reminder
I forgot that I needed to unsubscribe, but do I want to? Do I want reminders of my parents’ anniversary every year? Will I forget without it?
I am reluctant to unsubscribe because I know how I can forget. Without all the pictures I took this past year, I would forget the memories. I don’t want someone to ask me, years from now, about my parents’ anniversary. So, for now, I will keep subscribing.
I want to remember my parents’ deep love for each other and commitment to each other. My brother and I often marvel at how they were always together. They never took separate trips, quite unlike either of our marriages. Work often means separate trips in both of our families. My mother always commented on Mitch’s travel and the challenges it placed on our family. I always dismissed it because it is a common part of our lives.
My mother was always thinking of my father’s decreasing mobility. Several years ago, they planned an Ireland trip, my mother’s dream destination. Unfortunately, they canceled it because my mom was concerned about my father’s walking capabilities. She was always quick to take his elbow when they walked anywhere. She ended up being the person who fell last summer, not my father.
As their anniversary draws closer, I feel some sadness, but I also am grateful for their example of love and dedication to each other.
This was taken after the funeral of my uncle, right before the pandemic hit. No masks, no separation…
People are becoming creative with so many ideas right now, but I feel that this “Hug-Able” tops them all. My cousin, Amy, created this with her family to help her mom, a recent widow.
While watching this, it was hard not to think about my father who seems to be dying a slow death. Today, my brother received another phone call from him, telling about his dizziness. When I phoned the nurses, they seemed to dismiss it. I know they are so busy, but it’s so difficult being this far away. It’s like he is in a jail cell with no way out.
At times, I wish the Atrium would just call me and provide an update. Maybe they could just have a person designated for that particular task and call the families. I know I should not complain. I know they are working so hard to keep the COVID-19 at bay, but what about the patients’ mental health?
I was feeling so optimistic about the COVID, only a day ago, but I don’t feel that way now. Please, Lord, PLEASE– end it! Please hear our prayer!
I woke up in the morning, eager to see how God would reveal Himself. Greeting Mitch, I asked, “Well, did you solve the corona mystery during the night?” He always answers the same way, “Yes, in two different ways.”
As the day continued, I did see God revealing Himself, but it wasn’t quite what I thought and it seemed to revolve around technology. First, an email popped up, reminding me to purchase flowers for my parents’ April 17th anniversary. I had forgotten that I scheduled that reminder last year. Next, my father phoned me. He wanted to share Easter blessings, but he also talked about his dream where God was telling him that he wouldn’t have long to live. He went on to describe his funeral, a celebration of life and not a lamentation of his absence. “Your mom and I always wanted to share the Easter story with you and your brother, but we didn’t want it to be a history lesson. I need to know: do you believe in Him?” When I answered yes, he immediately started crying. Needless to say, it was an emotional phone call.
Technology continued throughout the day with other events. Online church reminded me of how we can worship and praise God in any way. After our Easter dinner, we connected with my brother’s family via Zoom. In the middle of the Zoom meeting, my father called via FaceTime, much to our surprise. He had somewhat figured out his new i-Pad and connected! I was able to see him and his messy head of hair!
Other texts included my sister-in-law sending a group text saying “Happy Easter”, a phone call with Mitch’s parents in Florida, and texts of encouragement to my cousins. My wonderful Aunt Mary is struggling with cancer and only has six months to live.
The day ended with a game of Scrabble, one of my favorites!
As I reflected upon the day, I realized that God DID reveal Himself, even though the virus still rages on around the world. I need to continually remind myself of the truth- He is always working and in control.
We rented this car for my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary.Daffodils on our propertyA different variety of daffodils
The bleak picture greeted me as I sat down to eat breakfast. “Potter’s Field Reveals Toll on the Poorest” , the Wall Street Journal headline read. The rest of the headlines, dismal and disheartening, seemed to only breathe sadness and grief. It definitely could grip one with an overwhelming sense of dread.
Yet, amidst it all, is this Easter weekend, starting with Good Friday. As I ponder again the amazing sacrifice of Christ, I am not filled with sadness but hope. Eternal hope in Christ breathes joy and contentment. What will God do this weekend? How will He reveal Himself to us?
In the past, Good Friday usually meant that we would attend a church service or musical. Locally, Faith Church invites anyone to attend their Easter play. This play, usually written by a church member, focuses on a person searching for answers in the midst of life’s struggles. I wonder if they are writing a different play script for next year’s production. They definitely have material based on COVID-19!
A different type of service is scheduled for this evening. Community members are invited to pray over the hospital. Directions for this community- wide event were sent out earlier this week and included people gathering in cars, tuning into a local radio station, praying in an area around the hospital and displaying encouraging signs for health care providers. Nobody may exit their cars due to COVID-19. We plan on attending.
As COVID-19 rages on, hope continues because we serve an amazing God. Let’s not forget.
“Her handwriting shares some of Mom’s characteristics”, my brother texted after seeing the letter. It’s funny how even a person’s handwriting can remind you of your mother.
While cleaning out closets, I came across my mother’s notes, written in various books she gave for birthdays. She always wrote her capital F backwards, added large loops to the g, and inserted capital letters in different spots.
I find it interesting to compare the handwriting. Was cursive absent from their education? What was it like learning handwriting when they arrived from the Netherlands?Confusing? Challenging?
I often scold myself for saving certain items in my house.”Why do I still have THIS?”, I wonder as I sort through travel brochures, ticket stubs, and other memorabilia. However, I am grateful for the letters and notes I saved, especially since she struggled to write her own name at the end of her life. It’s another way to remember my mom.
Scrolling back through my photos taken this past year seems surreal. The memories and events seem distant and vague. Is it really over? Does it have to be? I often stop my scrolling when I come across the pictures of my mother at Waterford, another distant yet real memory.
The psychology test results came back yesterday: my father has now been classified with moderate dementia. According to the website, https://www.dementia.com/symptoms.html, the symptoms include the following:
Moderate or Mid-Stage dementia
As dementia progresses, the changes become more marked and disabling.
People with dementia slowly move from forgetfulness into confusion. The person lives more and more in his/her own, dreamlike world in which present and past blend together and in which the rules and structures of the ‘old world’ – what is right, what is important – lose importance. At this stage people with dementia increasingly see themselves not as confused in a logical environment, but as oriented in a very unfamiliar environment. During the moderate phase of dementia, the person may:
Be increasingly forgetful of recent events. Memory for the distant past seems better, but some details may be forgotten or confused – Yes, I totally see this.
Repeat the same question or phrase over and over- Yes.
Be confused regarding time and place- Sometimes
Become lost if away from familiar surroundings- He has remarked how he doesn’t recognize certain areas.
Forget names of family or friends- I haven’t observed this in regards to family, but he did forget Ellsworth’s name.
Fail to recognize people or confuse them with others Not yet
Forget saucepans and kettles on the stove. May leave gas unlit– not applicable
Wander around streets, perhaps at night, sometimes becoming lost- I hope he doesn’t wander at Royal Park!
Behave inappropriately – for example, going outdoors in their nightwear- Yes
See or hear things that are not there (hallucinations)- Yes
Become very repetitive- Yes
Be neglectful of hygiene or eating- Yes, definitely
Become angry, upset or distressed through frustration- Yes
Some people at this stage become very easily upset, angry or aggressive, perhaps owing to frustration, or they may become overly attached to a certain person. possibly
The next step is to place my father on the Waterford waiting list. It will take some time because of COVID-19. I don’t know if they are even taking new patients during these uncertain times. Transferring patients from one facility to another would present certain risks. But could it be that last summer will be repeating itself? Will we be moving my father out of Royal Park?
Thinking about making a permanent move out of Royal Park fills me with sadness, but it is inevitable. I always knew this was coming, but I denied it. So many memories! So many visits! So many friends! It also would mean that I would need to clean out my father’s room, the one we spent so long on decorating and making it seem cozy.
On the other hand, I know and love Waterford, a wonderful place filled with dedicated staff.
Just like the lock-down, I need to wait. Wait on the Lord and His perfect timing.
This is one of my favorite parts of the Waterford rooms, a photo display area.
Now that I am back in Indiana, I can play the piano as much as I like, but I often wonder why I purchased this particular one. It’s an upright and badly needs a tuning. The keys are difficult to clean. I always wanted a grand piano but the cost is prohibitive. Maybe the circular design is the reason.
However, I think I know why I have it now– it’s another way to communicate with my father. Besides emailing letters, we also phone him. It’s a frustrating conversation, filled with me shouting at the top of my lungs, but one way I can communicate is to play the piano with the loudest tones and the phone perched on the edge. He cannot always hear all the tones, but he knows that I am sending him love. It’s the only thing that matters.
A Journey Worth Remembering 