With fifteen presentations now completed, I am off to Tucson
for A Book Fair at Bookman’s New Author event, a preview of the June BookExpoAmerica
in New York. It is very gratifying to receive emails and phone calls from senior
women caring for their spouses who have been diagnosed with “some sort of
dementia” who, after reading my book, feel heard, understood and not so alone. But
I also hear from daughters, caring for one or both parents, usually after one
parent has had a fall or a stroke and a “cover up” is detected. Memory loss
experienced as shameful.
It was my privilege this week to be a substitute group
facilitator for a retirement community Alzheimer support group. As usual I
learned more than the information I provided. I began to understand the value
of community to these folk who often do not have family living near them. In
our mobile society and in our children’s
frequent moves to find schooling and jobs for themselves, the parents,
who move to avoid the winters or who no longer have lives on their farms which
have been sold or jobs that no longer exist, relocate to the warm climate and
find solidarity among their new neighbors.
I learned of communities that protect the demented spouse on
outings, drive to medical appointments, and even come with food or with offers
to bathe a neighbor. Hillary Clinton was and is right, but it takes a village
not only to raise children, but to support each other where there is a
disability. I learned that happy hour bus trips to local restaurants provide a
method of dealing with sundowner’s syndrome, where the person with dementia
gets more confused and agitated at the end of the day. These trips on the bus
offer him company, light conversation and distraction from worries. The
caregiving spouse also has others to speak with and an outing to enjoy where
she is not completely alone with her spouse.
Here in my community I hardly know my neighbors; we merely
wave at each other in passing. Do you know yours?
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