Favourite Verses

I was reminded, on my trip home recently, of another of Dad's favourite verses.

For I am persuaded that neither life nor death, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)

The family have put together a couple of albums and booklets for Dad (our niece even made a photo album for a Christmas present) and this verse was in one of them.  He can read these albums at his leisure, or we get them out when we visit - to attempt to keep him remembering his family.

To date the books have managed to stay in Dad's dresser where he can easily access them but out of view of others.

The quirky thing about Alzheimers homes is that the residents will wander.  They'll sleep on each others beds and help themselves to each others clothes, shoes and other belongings. 

Dad is no exception to this behaviour.  In fact, because he is a bit of a magpie, I'm guessing he's one of the worst offenders.  It was not unusual, when visiting, to have to escort him out of someone else's room or find him dressed in clothes that weren't his.

Some facilities try to prevent this communal sharing of private property by locking all the bedroom doors during the day.  Others accept that this behaviour is normal and request, quite sensibly, that all belongings be clearly labelled.  Then when found elsewhere they can be returned to the correct room, eventually.

We decided to go for the communal sharing mind set.  There is something not nice about locking old confused people out of their rooms during the day.  Does it really matter if they don't quite make it to the right room now and then, or if they help themselves to something that takes their fancy. 

Considering what this disease does to them, why not let what belongs to someone else bring them a little joy for a little while.

One can only hope that, should they hoist Dad's books, they'll like his favourite songs and verses as much as he did.



The Plan For Moving Dad

Once we'd chosen a care facility we then had to devise the plan for moving Dad in.

He was still living up North and usually gave mum grief when they travelled.  First there was the constant questions....'Where are we going?'  'Why are we going?' and, before they'd even got out the door, 'When are we coming home?'

Mum used to explain everything to Dad the night before they were due to go somewhere.  I often wondered why she bothered, because I knew, like the rest of the family knew, that he'd forget five minutes later.

However, Mum insisted on getting his approval for a trip first and the night before he was always agreeable....but come the day of the journey the brakes went on.  Home was safe.  Home was familiar.

But home wasn't a good option any more.

I can't remember the exact details of "The Plan For Moving Dad".  I do recall that most of the family were involved in some shape or form.  Be it as drivers, passenger companions, meeting him at the facility and touring him around, helping mum out with the paper work and then distracting him so she could leave.



In the back yard of the care facility....look at all that space!

He had got to the point that when mum was out of eyesight for 5 minutes (sometimes less) he wanted to know where she was.  Our usual tricks for telling tall tales to keep him relatively happy weren't having as desirable an effect as they used to.

The staff knew it was best for her to leave while he was distracted by the rest of us, without saying goodbye.  (I was actually surprised she complied).  Then we had to figure out how to excuse ourselves one after the other - not en masse.  And all the while, 'What is this place?  Why are we here?  Where is my wife? We'd better and go get her.  Is she all right?  When are we going home?'

My sister was the last person left with Dad that day.  While we were waiting for her up the road I did wonder what her plan was for excusing herself.

One of the hard things about leaving Dad, was knowing that he knew that he wasn't at home.  And there wasn't any one familiar there.  And that he would be looking for Mum - his security blanket.  It really is sad watching him feeling lost.

If there were suitable places closer to home maybe we could have taken time familiarizing Dad with the staff and the venue as part of a more lengthy 'Moving Dad Plan', but there wasn't, and still isn't, so we just did the best we could.