hesitantly agreed to go with Lori to try the sport. During the outing, her mom was standing near a sand trap, club in hand. Suddenly, she fell in and when Lori rushed over to help her, she found her mom swimming the breaststroke in the sand.
“She was lying face down, moving her arms, so proud, calm, and comfortable,” Lori says. “Her mind had saved her and put her in a safe place.” Her mom’s early lifeguard training had been triggered by the fall, and she was swimming to safety.
Then her mom broke out laughing, realizing she wasn’t in her girlhood lake but in a sea of sand. Lori helped her up and all was well.
Once Lori moved beyond her fear and let in playfulness, she had many periods of deep connection with her mother.
“That was a turning point for me,” Lori says. “I began to understand that she did certain things because her brain was following a pattern. I started learning not to judge and to look for the connections.”
Once Lori moved beyond her fear and let in playfulness, she had many periods of deep connection with her mother. These moments were so powerful that Lori became a tireless advocate for those living with dementia and their care partners.
Talk about Dreams and Preferences
As a care partner, Lori knows it’s easy to get consumed with the medical condition when someone is diagnosed with memory impairment.
“We miss out when we forget to talk to our partners about their spiritual, physical, and psychological needs,” she says.
Here are some discussions Lori found to be meaningful with her own mother:
What’s on your bucket list?
What are some of your favorite songs, singers, bands, foods, hobbies, and activities?
Let’s go through old pictures, and you can show me your favorites.
Will you help me gather your personal history, including stories about growing up with your family, jobs you held, friends you had, sports you played, vacations you went on? This will become extremely helpful later as the disease progresses, and it will be fun to do together now.
Shall we talk about some of our favorite moments together?
What is important to you in your daily routine? Reading the newspaper, sipping a morning cup of coffee, taking an afternoon walk, doing a crossword puzzle?
Would you be willing to share your experience as it progresses via writing, video, or photos, or just talking to me about it? Your insights would really help me and the rest of the family understand what you are going through.
“Dementia is a vibrant disease, encompassing the colors of the rainbow,” Lori says. “If we regard it in strict black and white, we only see right or wrong. We need to let in the color and light.”
Creative Sparks
Let go of any fears that you “won’t get it right.” The only misstep is if you don’t try to help a person living with dementia. This is a game of trial and error, not wins and losses.
Talk about dreams, goals, memories, and preferences together.
Support your partner by adapting to the changes he is experiencing. Ask for his advice when possible.
Fly to the Moon with Music Therapy
Embrace the Duet of Music and the Brain
Come Alive with Personal Playlists
Sing Along and Find Your Voice
Weave In Rhythm
Unearth Life’s Lyrics
Encore
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.” —Victor Hugo
During my mom’s dementia journey, music often inspired and connected us. Here is one of those melodic moments, in a paraphrased excerpt from my book, Love in the Land of Dementia: Finding Hope in the Caregiver’s Journey. The story is set in my mom’s memory care community.
Rochelle, the activity director, sticks in another tape and soon “Stardust” is playing.
“Let’s dance,” she says, motioning everyone to stand.
Mom looks up, and I offer her my hand.
“Want to dance?” I ask her.
“What?”
“Want to dance?” I repeat, making a swirling motion.
“What else,” she says, standing up.
My parents have danced to this song many times, my mother coaxing my father onto the dance floor. I hold hands with Mom and move back and forth to the music. She laughs and does the same. I twirl her, and she walks around in a jaunty little circle. For a moment, her energy and charm have returned. I feel like I have found my long-lost mother. If my father were here, he would not be surprised. He is certain she will return to him and takes every word, every gesture of affection, every smile as a sign of hope.
“Hope is everything,” Dad told me just last week. “I find something hopeful and I milk it for all it’s worth. If it doesn’t work out, then I search for something else. Otherwise, I am in despair.”
I twirl my mom again. It is actually our first real dance together . . . .
From dancing to creating personal playlists, this chapter sings with music and rhythm-related ideas. According to numerous studies, music improves the lives of those living with dementia by reducing the need for psychotropic drugs, increasing socialization, and relieving depression.
Fly to the Moon with Music Therapy
“Where
