Q: How many times does a person have to lock and unlock the front door of the house before an old lady with dementia actually believes that the door is, in fact, LOCKED??
A: Infinity. Because it doesn’t matter whether or not a person PROVES that the door is locked when an old lady with dementia is certain that a mob is planning to break in and rob the place and kidnap the cat.
We were sitting at the table eating breakfast, when I felt Joe’s eyes on me. I looked over at him and he was just grinning ear to ear.
Me: “You look like you’re in a pretty good mood today, Joe!”
Joe: “Yep, I guess so.”
Me: “I bet it’s because you’re wearing your red shirt. You look really handsome in red.”
Dot: “Red has always been a good color on him.”
Joe: “What’s so good about it?”
Me: “It brightens up your cheeks.”
Joe: “What good does that do me?”
Dot: “We’re the ones who have to look at you, and you look good in RED! Now, eat your breakfast.”
Joe: “Does it make me look taller?”
Dot: “Huh?”
Joe: “Does my red shirt make me look taller?”
Dot: “Oh for heaven’s sake…”
Me: “I think it makes you look taller, Joe.”
Joe’s eyes lit up: “Well if it makes me look taller, then maybe I’ll have a better chance of picking a cherry from the cherry tree!”
Dot: “We don’t have a cherry tree.”
Joe: “But if we DID have a cherry tree; when I wear this red shirt then I’ll be taller, and I can pick cherries.”
Me: “You’re right, Joe. You’d be tall enough to pick the cherries AND you’d look very handsome while doing so.”
Joe beamed: “See Dot, I told you so.”
Dot: “I think maybe you’d better not wear red anymore. It gives you a big head…”
Joe: “No Dot, see my head only looks bigger because my red shirt makes me look so much taller.”
Lois tried to “run away” in the middle of the night, using her bedside commode as a walker. She didn’t get very far, since she could not figure out how to unlock the door.
Me: “Where are you going, Lois?”
Lois: “I’m gettin’ the hell out of here is where I’m goin!”
Me: “You’re not going to get very far carrying your commode. It’s really heavy.”
Lois: “The WHAT?!”
Me: “You’re trying to use your toilet as a walker, and it’s too heavy for you to push around.”
Lois: “I just figured that I might need to use the toilet while I’m walking to Sylvia’s house.”(Sylvia is Lois’s long deceased sister.)
Me: “How about we visit Sylvia tomorrow when there’s daylight, and you can be sure to use the bathroom before we go?”
Lois: “Well, I’ll think about it.”
Then right there by the front door, Lois decided to use her commode. As she was sitting on the pot, she smiled at me and said, “Boy, these portable toilets sure are handy!”
Me: “Yep, they sure are.”
This has been one of the most difficult days with Lois that I’ve ever had. Some days are just like that with folks who are suffering with dementia, and it’s sad.
At one point this afternoon, I escaped to the caregiver’s bedroom to take a breather from having to answer the SAME questions OVER and OVER and OVER again. Of course she followed me into the bedroom, and just stood next to my bed glaring at me and scratching her butt with her hand down the back of her pants.
My patience was nearing an end when I said, “Lois. Will you please not scratch your butt right next to my head at least?!”
Lois looked at me bewildered and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Me: “Lois, look at where your hand is right now.”
Lois pulled her hand out of her pants: “It’s right here!”
Me: “Okay, now look at where my head is.”
Lois looked confused for a moment, and then put her hand right back down her pants: “I don’t see the connection.”
Welcome to my world.
Nothing like spending an hour putting together healthy Greek chicken pizza for our dinner (using the supplies that I paid for myself) just so that Lois can complain that it’s “okay, but I don’t know why you had to dump so much salt on it…”
I explained to her that the kalamata olives are what makes it salty, but that I used them sparingly, and the pizza is actually very healthy.
Lois: “You can explain that to the doctor after I’ve had my heart attack from all of this salt.”
Me: “I can make you something else…”
Lois: “No, no, I’ve lived long enough anyhow. Have you fed Baby?”
Me: “Yes, I put food out on the patio for her.”
Lois: “You didn’t put any of those thingamajigs in her food, did ya?”
Me: “No, of course not.”
Lois: “Are you sure? Because she’s too young for a heart attack.”
Me: “Yes, I’m sure. I just gave her soft food.”
Lois: “You didn’t pour a bunch of salt all over it, did you?”
Me: “Lois…why would I add salt to Baby’s cat food?”
Lois: “I was just making sure.”
Me: “There are no salty thingamajigs on Baby’s food.”
Lois: “Maybe I should trade her then.”
Ugh.
I took Joe to the bathroom so that he could do a “stand up job”. I have to hold him up so that he doesn’t fall during the process, and when I didn’t hear anymore tinkle sounds I asked him if he was all finished.
Joe: “It seems like it’s done draining, as far as I can tell…”
About the time he finished his sentence, I heard some more tinkle sounds.
Joe: “Whoops! Looks like we’ve got a leaky pipe!”
After eating a big lunch this afternoon, including dessert, I asked Joe if he’d had enough to eat.
Joe: “I ate enough to survive.”
Dot: “Aren’t you full? You should be full!”
Joe: “I wouldn’t say I’m full so much as…I’m still alive.”
Okay then.
I love it when I am trying to help Joe in the bathroom, and I say, “Alright Joe, I’m going to help you pull your pants down now…”
Joe: “What the hell are you gonna pull my pants down for?”
Me: “Because you’ve kinda gotta pull your pants down before you sit on the toilet…”
Joe: “What are you…some kind of expert or something?!”
Me: “I guess so, yes.”
Joe: “Next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you’re going to help me take my penis out and point it in the right direction.”
Me: “Actually, you’re on your own with that one.”
Joe: “You’re not such an expert anymore are ya?”
Me: “Nope, that is most definitely NOT my area of expertise.”
Joe’s brother, Bart, was here visiting earlier today. When he was on his way out the door, he looked at me, cracked up and said, “are you an eagle or something?” I just giggled and shrugged my shoulders. I was totally baffled by his comment, but I wasn’t offended because I’ve certainly been called worse.
It took me a good hour before I realized that I was wearing an American Eagle t-shirt that said “EAGLE” in bold letters right across the front.
Bart – 1
Me – 0
Today I watched “Life of Pi” with Joe (who slept through the entire thing) and Dot (who only slept through part of it). Before I start any movie I always give Joe and Dot a brief summary of what it is going to be about. I described “Life of Pi” as being about a shipwrecked teenager who has to figure out how to survive on a lifeboat with a tiger. Joe and Dot thought that it sounded pretty interesting, so we went with it.
When the movie was over, I asked Dot what she thought:
Dot: “Well, it was okay…but I was waiting to see the tiger.”
Me: “You didn’t notice the tiger?”
Dot: “No, I didn’t notice it. Which scene was it in?”
Me: “The tiger is pretty much in every scene.”
Dot: “Oh well. I guess you put the wrong movie in huh?”
Me: “Bummer. I guess I did.”
(I didn’t.)
A little while later she asked, “What did the tiger look like?”
Me: “It’s a large orange cat with black stripes…”
Dot: “OH! THAT was the tiger?! I thought that was an elephant.”
Me: “Nope. It was a tiger.”
Dot: “It looked an awful lot like an elephant though didn’t it…?”
Me: “Um…not really. It pretty much looked exactly like a tiger.”
Dot laughed: “I guess you should wear your glasses next time huh?”
Me: “Yeah, I guess I should.”
(I don’t wear glasses.)
Joe and Dot 