Cocoa & Luke

She is usually in her housecoat when I come.
Her hair generally unwashed but meticulously parted on the side with a beret in it.
Sometimes one or two curlers dangle hopefully on the sides, pink to match the dressing gown she had on. She wore a worried look and begged me not to let the dogs out.

"The dogs?"

"Yes, I don't know where they get to. Cocoa was here, at least I think she was here but I let her out. I am ever so worried. I called my daughter and she said to ring the doorbell and they could come out."

I got her settled at the kitchen table and saw Luke out the window sitting on the back porch.
" Luke is outside."

"Ooo THATS where he is. I thought he got out. There is a small hole in the fence just at the corner. I was so worried."

I went outside and checked. No hole.

I tried distraction and we had a nice chat as she ate her breakfast.
She always lets us in. She is very receptive to the visits. She eats if we make her food and sit with her. She takes her meds with minimal coaxing. She is a very lovely woman.

"The little black one. I can't find him anywhere."

There were several notes in the Nurses notes again about this.

"I think your dog likes to hide under the bed."

This is true.

I looked up and she was wearing a pair of very familiar glasses.
My glasses. I had taken them off and laid them alongside my book, pen and keys.

"Uhm, you are wearing my glasses."

"Am I?" She looked skeptical. Then curious. She touched the frames gingerly.
"No these are mine." She looked at my face and touched them again.
"Aren't they?"

I smiled and then gave her a hug.
"I have done that too. But those are mine."

She took them off and forgot about it.

"Don't let Cocoa out. That dog ... I dont know what to do with her."

"Bye.... have a good day. (distract distract..)

I love going to see her. I know that soon she will not be able to live on her own.
Even after diagnosis, people with dementia can live a happy and worthwhile life, provided the appropriate information and support is in place. But there comes a time when it may no longer be possible that they live alone. It generally is for safety.
Even if we administer her medications, check on her twice or three times a day, cook for her and keep her hygenic, we can't stop the process that eventually will make her turn the stove on and forget and perhaps touch a burner. Or leave a tap running. Or go out for a walk and keep on going. Or eat something she thinks is food but may be toxic.
She is already piling books at the door at night.
She is sorting and re-sorting clothes.
She touches her face and picks at her arms.
She is forgetting the odd word. She frets about the dark.
And: There IS no Cocoa.

Cocoa was her dog 25 years ago.
God bless her happy heart.
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‘Normal’ people seldom choose to socialize with individuals with dementia, unless they are joined by a previous relationship of friendship or family. Caregiving relationships are most often described in terms of ‘caregiver burden’. However, recent studies have revealed that persons with dementia often ask for increased involvement in decision-making, conversations, and activities. People with dementia still need to be loved and to feel that they contribute. We must remember that we are all connected by virtue of being human; we are all at some state in the process of cognitive decline.

Timothy D. Epp