Letting Dementia Be

As much as possible, I let Romeo's dementia simply be. I don't try to teach him anything; he can't learn. I don't ask him if he remembers X; he usually won't. I don't suggest he try to do a certain task differently; he can't grasp the idea.

Instead, I soothe him, reassure him, tell him that he's fine and that I love him. And I must do it multiple times for it to "take," for him to understand. This is one aspect of dementia.

All in all, I think Romeo has adjusted to life with dementia and living it in the nursing home. He's fine with letting someone do practically everything for him. He can do only a few things himself. He can brush his teeth, he can wash his face and hands, he can feed himself, although he usually leaves a mess on the table.

At times, he can't find his fork (it's in his hand). Sometimes I watch as he, in a dementia fog, tries to figure out how to pick up a spoon. It's heartbreaking to watch him first try to locate the spoon, then move his hand toward it and miss the target. He is concentrating hard. If I spoke to him now, it wouldn't register for a minute or two. It takes that long to get through the fog.

Let it be. Simply let it be. He's fine. He's occupied. He has purpose. I step in only when he gives up, sits back in his chair. His version of giving up, of letting it be, tugs at my heart. He has no anger, shows no sign of frustration. He simply sits back, looks at his mess, looks at me, and smiles. Yes, we let the dementia be. There is so much more to experience. Dementia isn't all there is. There is love.

Toward a Balanced Caregiver

Sometimes I'm slow to pick up on what's happening in my own life. Something may have been rising to the surface without me noticing until -- wham! -- it's here. This isn't always bad...or good. More often than not, though, it comes as a subtle surprise.

I realized last week that something has been bubbling to the surface for weeks, perhaps several months. It's my feminine side, long repressed by the need for me to take care of Romeo. I'm letting go of the male action-oriented, take-charge attitude and way of being that necessity amplified for four years.

Romeo couldn't drive; I did all the driving. Romeo couldn't do any home repairs; I did all the home repairs. Romeo couldn't climb up on a ladder and change the batteries in the smoke alarms; I climbed up on a ladder and changed the batteries in the smoke alarms. Romeo couldn't balance his checkbook, plan a trip, create a file in his email program, turn on the TV or adjust the volume on the sound system, troubleshoot a burned out light bulb; I took care of all of that, and so much more. My masculine side was in overdrive. Constantly. It meant pushing myself, always under stress. It was me who had to seek clarity and a certainty of direction, always. Always me. Only me, always.

I still have to take care of most of that, but now that Romeo lives in a nursing home, my feminine side has been rising to the surface, naturally, organically, on its own, in its own way, on its own terms. The masculine doesn't have to work as much. It's receding. It shows most obviously in areas where previously I automatically took control, in areas where it makes sense: in a carpool, I now let others drive; I let others plan an outing; I let others research, organize, and get back to me with answers.

The feminine in me wants to be really, really girlie, and it's seeking to bring forth my forgotten and lost radiance. I'm loving details I've never been into before: lace and frills and flowers. Pink nail polish and silk lingerie, bubble bath and perfume, diamond earrings and sapphire bracelets. And it's enjoying all of it with exuberance and abandon. It wants to marinate in itself, to love itself. It's ever-changing, ever-moving, and always will be. True feminine energy cannot be contained in one of anything. Ever. I seem to be harvesting all I can.

This feminine in me is overacting perhaps, working harder because it's been suppressed, swept under my skin, for several years. At some point, balance will be struck. Just the right amount of masculine and feminine will come forward as each is called for. At times, I may need to call up more of the masculine qualities than feminine, sometimes more feminine than masculine. But neither side will tip the scales, and there will be integration. Some day.

Some day (perhaps that day is now?) I will remember to stay open to receive and trust and embrace that feminine essence that pushes toward the surface, as well as the masculine essence that is now retreating in me. There will be, there is, a balance, an energetic dance occurring in the ethers. I intend to capture it. Balance, beautiful balance, blessed balance.