The Lights Are Gone

There has been a definite change in Mother. She is much quieter, and the light, the mischievous light, that persisted in her eyes despite the dementia is barely there.  It happened so quickly.  One day she was lively and talking; the next visit she was not there.  Oh, she smiles and can still call me by name, but something has changed.

My sister has compared it to having packed her bags and left.  You know the saying, "the light's on but no one is home."  Well, the light is just a single dim bulb for Mother right now.  The light in her eyes is much dimmer.  She moves differently too.  She may be walking down the hall and just stops.  We have to prod her to keep walking.  It is as if she has forgotten that she was walking - not just where she was going, but she has forgotten that she was even in the process of moving.  Sitting is the same way.  She will stand in front of a chair, but she forgets to go ahead and sit.  I have to keep encouraging her - bend you legs, lower yourself down, I will help you, the chair is right here.  She looks at me like I have lost my mind.  She has forgotten that she was going to sit down.

I hung a stocking for her in her room.  I hung it because I wanted her to have a bit of Christmas in her room.  But the change in her is so dramatic that I am not sure she even notices the stocking.  It used to be that she would have taken it down and chewed on it or put things in it.  It just hangs there untouched.

Yet despite the change, musics still touches Mother.  Many people come and sing and play for the residents of the home during the holidays.  Mother still enjoys the music.  She will pat her knee during a lively song and sometimes she even can remember a few of the words to sing along.  We are treasuring these times.  I am afraid that next Christmas she may not even be able to enjoy the music. 

The light, the music, the joy of life are shutting down for her.  The curtains slowly draw closed, and she will be shut out from all that she has loved.  So for now, we sing.  We sing during every visit.  Music is the piece of light we cling to, and we sing with vigor hoping to stave off the coming darkness.

Music and Dementia

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/AlzheimersCommunity/alzheimers-disease-music-brings-patients-back-life/story?id=16117602#.T4bWHJkvkUU

This ABC News story chronicles how music affects Alzheimers patients.  I see this every day in Mother and the other residents.  Even the most withdrawn residents perk up when there is a music group singing or when the karaoke is going.  Mother actually smiles, dances, claps her hands, and the music truly lifts her spirits.  We keep a radio by Mother's bed, and we often sing together, which makes her happy.

There is one man in the Alzheimers unit with Mother who listens to his music every day after lunch.  He can barely speak, he sleeps almost all of the time, he is confined to a reclining wheel chair, yet when his music is playing he sings!  He moves his hands.  He experiences a real joy.  I love walking by his room and hearing his mumbled words and watching him swing his hands.  He's having a great time.  Music does bring the dementia patient alive!

Hark the Herald Angels Sing

Christmas is truly celebrated at a nursing home.  There are beautifully decorated trees everywhere, all kinds of Santas and Nativity scenes, and most of all there is music.  So many groups come in to perform for the residents, and their musical gifts make the season all the brighter.

Mother loves the music, and she loves to "dance" to it. Her dancing consists mostly of swaying and wiggling her hips. Once in a while she will try a twirl, but that usually leads to her yelling "whoa Nelly!" and having to sit again because she made herself dizzy.

Last week she was very emotional.  A local high school show choir came to sing.  Mother cried loudly through most of the performance.  Her face turned red, the tears flowed, she chewed up her tissue, and she was just beside herself with emotion.  All of those young people singing just swamped her emotional capabilities, but she loved it.  Of course she thought the boys were her grandsons and tried to call out to them.  Those young men were so kind to come to her and hold her hand for a moment.  What amazed me was her ability to collect herself after the program and thank the director for coming to sing.  For that brief second her manners showed through all of her emotion. 

Today I sat with Mother and some of the other residents as they listened to a man play his keyboard and sing.  As I looked at these residents, so diminished from who they once were, their faces beamed, and they did their best to sing along to Away in a Manger and Rockin around the Christmas Tree and Jingle Bells.  They sat together and held hands bringing comfort to each other, and all the while Mother danced around them and was happy.  I think I know why the angels were sent to Bethlehem to sing good news.  Music is the language that reaches us most deeply, and even in the depths of dementia one can sing and rejoice and be happy.  If just for a moment, we can have love and joy.