J is back at the memory care unit of her continuing care retirement community after a stay at a senior behavioral health unit because of aggressive behavior. (Sorry to those who know us and follow our progress through this blog that it’s taken me so long to post — it’s been a busy time with J’s placement, my move and changes in my work assignment.)
Last week, J seemed sedated, but I spoke with the psychiatric nurse, who backed her off some of her meds. This week, she seemed more like herself — or, more precisely, more like the version of J who was with us before the psychiatric ward stay.
Today was the first time I took J out since she returned to the CCRC memory care unit. We went on a couple of errands and then for soft serve ice cream.
This is the new normal: we can’t both have ice cream at the same time. I got a gelati, which is a concoction of water ice and soft-serve vanilla, with a twist of soft serve on top. J got a simple cup of chocolate soft-serve. What I didn’t anticipate is that J can no longer hold a cup level and eat at the same time. We were sitting on a bench, so J had nowhere to rest her cup and a significant amount of J’s ice cream ended up on her lap. I put my cup down to help her and plop! Mine fell over on the ground. Oh, well. I cleaned it up and kept eating. She needed a change of pants when she got back to the CCRC, but so what.
The ice cream place we went to was near our old neighborhood and, as we sat on the bench, she mumbled what sounded like, “I remember.”
J had a good time on our outing, yet in the car on the way back to the CCRC, she got teary-eyed. By the time we got back to her room, she was full-on crying. She curled up on her bed and let loose.
I got her up, telling her I wanted to show her something. Knowing that her facility only shows endless movies in the common room, I knew she hadn’t seen the royal wedding. A ten-minute video of Meaghan and Harry was all she needed to smile again. By the time I left, she was dancing with a staff member.
While this stage of J’s journey through Alzheimer’s world is painful for both of us, my partner, P, has encouraged me to find something good each stage. About the best I can say is that I feel good I am generally rising to the occasion. Also, although it’s not perfect, our kids and I are doing better working as a unit and making sure J gets regular visits.
One of the indignities of having Alzheimer’s and living at a CCRC is that there is no personal property. Someone else may be wearing your shirt or sweater today; you may have someone else’s clothes on tomorrow. When I went to get J ready to go out today, there was a shirt I had never seen before in her drawer. With my help, she put it on. In Jamaican colors, it said, “Everything’s gonna be alright,” the name of a Bob Marley anthem. And it will, because what other choice do we have?