I'll always remember sharing pumpernickle bread with honey on it with an 86 year old lady who had midstage Alzheimer's. She was originally from Denmark. Alzheimer's had not caused her words to be garbled, but part of the time she spoke in Danish. When she did this I studied her face and eyes, and listened intently, trying to sense the feeling even if I could not understand the words. Perhaps this was the more important part, because she would smile and I knew we were connecting. We shared some wonderful times.
Her relatives were far away and she was a widow. When we met I asked about her favorite foods. She smiled, and with her Danish accent said, "Pumpernickle and honey - OH, I always love that."
Thus began our midafternoon ritual of this special treat. Other familiar foods associated with pleasant memories included Danish pastries. For these we would take a ride downtown to a Danish Bakery, and enjoy an outing. Other times we would take a short drive around her hometown to go by familiar places.
I had brought some games and art supplies, and these came in handy. Although coloring books might seem childish, the pictures can be artistly colored if you use crayons like brushstrokes of paint. For her first picture we chose a Victorian doll. The hair was done with hair-like crayon strokes, with highlights added. The skin had varied shading, and the dress showed shadows and lights with a blend of colors. She was thrilled, and we hung the signed artwork on the wall.
Day by day the art gallery in her apartment grew. We added some games, too. She was often confused about where she was or who I was, but her visual skills with dominoes were enough to make her a champion!
We also added easy crosswords. I would read the hint, and we would begin brainstorming possible words for the answer. As the energy gathered momentum we often laughed at the words we came up with. But she guessed the answers part of the time, and enjoyed knowing she "got it!" We would celebrate after a game with a treat.
Gradually the days that had been slow and empty for her were filled with art, games, and outings. she knew I was a friend who was keeping her company, but did not understand that I was a caregiver. That was OK, because I felt we were friends too.
One day she said to me, "Do you play the piano? I love piano music." I said, "No, I don't play the piano but I can get some piano music on a tape cassette. I love it too. Good idea!" She responded, perhaps mistaking me for a relative, "Well, I must get you a piano and some piano lessons!" We didn't get a piano but we did listen to music. When the sundowners time of the day approached I played the piano music to sooth her agitation, tension and wandering tendencies. As evening arrived we listened to beautiful music and relaxed.
