Stories about my journey as a caregiver for my mother, who endures her battle with dementia with love and patience, while the music brings the memories to life.
On a chilly February evening, I plopped down on the couch with my mother, snuggled under a warm blanket. It was cold outside, but inside it felt safe and cozy. When the movie Grease started on the TV, I felt a smile coming up. My mother watched the intro, where the names of the actors appeared in a cartoon style. She asked if the movie was almost over, and I patiently explained that it had just started. Every song that came along brought new amazement: “Do you really sing along to all that?” she asked. My answer was simple: “It’s my job as a singer, mom.” I also started telling her something about my childhood and how this music was full of memories for me, but often her attention was already focused on the images and the music. She was completely captivated by the songs, and especially the recognition of the actors such as John Travolta.
“What does he look like now?” she asked, and I replied with a laugh, “Bald!” She looked at me in surprise and asked again, “No, but what does he look like now?” The realization that Travolta is bald now didn’t seem to sink in. She probably just doesn’t recognize him with this new appearance, I thought to myself. The feeling of having to constantly be a kind of detective in the mind of someone with dementia is different every day. Her response changes with every new stimulus she receives, and I keep trying to understand what exactly is going on in her head.
But the moment with Grease was one to cherish. The music and the images were a familiar world to her, even if she was only absorbed in it for a brief moment.
Before that, we had eaten together in a restaurant. The waiter had directed us to a table in the middle of the restaurant, with walkways all around us – far too much stimulation for my mother, who could easily become overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle. I could sense it coming, I knew from experience that this was not the best place for her. So I went to the waiter, hoping that he would understand my concerns. I explained that my mother has Alzheimer’s and asked if it was possible to find a quieter place. The young waiter understood immediately. Luckily, it was still early, and he showed us to a quiet table in a corner, with her back to the wall, so that she would not be disturbed by the hustle and bustle around us. It was a gesture of understanding that was so important to us.
The food was – as expected – sublime, but it was especially the waiter’s gesture that made the day so special. It reminded me how important it is to spend such moments together, even if they are always different. Every time I look for ways to give her the most comfort, to hold on to that one, beautiful memory. We cherished the moment, knew that it was more important than ever to embrace everything. We enjoyed the peace, the food and especially each other.
What a lovely day together again – and I realise time and time again that these are the kind of moments we cherish. Every moment counts.
Feel free to leave your story or comment below this blog. As a singer I also sing in healthcare. More about my music in healthcare, info or contact via the attached button.
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