Five solid minutes. That's all I want. Five minutes to pull my mom from the depths of dementia and tell her how much I love her.
Five minutes where she knows who I am.
Five minutes to remember her grandchildren.
Five minutes to let her know her lifelong best friend still calls.
Five minutes to share a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie.
Five minutes to tell her she's in the best care she can have right now.
Five minutes to tell her how much my older sister wanted to say goodbye.
Five minutes to talk politics.
Five minutes to remind her how many people she helped in her nursing career.
Five minutes to watch a sunset.
Five minutes to let her know that life is not the same without her.
Take your next five minutes. Contact someone you love.
Get help if you need it. I did.
My story is my story. My situation is not better or worse than yours. Dementia doesn’t study your job, paycheck, what type of car you drive. It attacks the brain and won’t let it go. I hope my story helps you share your story.
My mother was diagnosed with dementia three years ago. It was in early stages, so she and my sister were still able to live in their house aka, my mom's dream house. Life was okay until she fell and broke her arm. She would never return to her house. Never. That was the beginning of a two year journey. Her rehab was long.
Her dementia got worse and she was moved to assisted living. She did fine until she didn't. My sister died unexpectedly last April and the news caused the dementia and the anxiety associated with it to spiral.
I called the Alzheimer's Association hotline for help. They talked me through a lot. They provided me with some tips, what to do and what to say.
In October, my mom was found wandering in the parking lot of assisted living. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last. She had to move to a secure environment right away.
There we met other nurses, teachers, people once with proud careers, now unable to find their own room. We've since moved my mom to a group home. It's a better fit for her and our family. The first nights were rough. She didn't sleep, knocked on other people's doors and took the decorations off a holiday tree. She's better now, as good as she can be. Every weekend when we visit, she's surprised to see us. She thinks we've traveled a long way. We answer the same questions and try to bring her a little joy. We’ll play her some loon sounds on the phone and talk about the beach.
She won't remember we were there but that won’t matter. Even if it’s just for five minutes, she knows she is not alone.
I always leave those visits with tears in my eyes, hoping for just five minutes. Five minutes to have my mom like she used to be.
Take your next five minutes. Contact someone you love.
