Janna, a resident in a memory care facility, woke up one night and found a few staff members congregated around the nurses station. When a nurse asked Janna what was wrong, Janna told the group that there were alley cats outside her window making all sorts of ruckus. Several of the nurses seemed dismissive of Janna with their sideways glances and eye rolling, but one staff member, Terry, approached Janna with a kind but concerned smile on her face.
“Janna, let’s go see what all that ruckus is all about. I suspect alley cats get hungry at this time of night.” With that the two of them headed back down the hallway and disappeared into Janna’s room. Continue reading →
My two brothers and I were devastated when our mother began displaying signs of Alzheimer’s disease in 2002. She lived alone in her home and her nearest adult child lived four hours away. We banded together to face this challenge head-on. We began a period of observing, investigating, collaborating, and careful listening to gain insight into the situation. We visited and called our mother more often. We each solicited advice from caregivers we knew and visited our local Alzheimer’s Association office.
My brothers and I worked hard to help our mother maintain her independence and remain in her home. We worked with her doctors, and after multiple attempts Aricept was prescribed. We hired a social worker and nurse to assist her. When “issues” arose, we never knew if an event occurred as she explained. This was extremely frustrating to us. Eventually a dangerous incident demonstrated that she could no longer live alone. It was difficult taking responsibility for our strong, independent mother. Continue reading →
My mother, Effie Johnson, was second generation Alzheimer’s. Her mother, Emma Sue (for whom I was named) died from Alzheimer’s when she was 87 years old in 1986, in the same nursing home in Jackson, Mississippi where my mother would spend the final eight years of her life. I remember watching my mother care for “Mamaw” and wondering what our future might bring.
Twenty years later, in 2006, I moved Mother into assisted living. My father had died of cancer in 1998, leaving Mother alone. After eight years of watching her gradual decline and taking on more of her day-to-day responsibilities, especially her finances, I offered first to move her in with us—which she declined—and second to move her to Memphis to an assisted living home. She begged me to let her stay in Jackson, which I did. This meant I would spend the next ten years making the 400-mile round trip to participate in her caregiving, although she did have help, first in assisted living, and finally in a nursing home. Continue reading →