Taking Care of Yourself
Kindling Holiday Magic During Seasons of Change
“There’s a story behind these butterscotch brownies,” I told our Thanksgiving guests, as my brother Dan served dessert. “Mom created the recipe when Dan was six and became allergic to chocolate.”
There was a collective gasp as people imagined the horror of being allergic to chocolate. Then there were satisfying sighs as they tasted the melting sweetness of the brownies; Dan had re-created the recipe when my mother, disabled by Alzheimer’s, could no longer bake. Fortunately, Mom enjoyed sweets all her life and we always shared the story of these treats with her, reminding her how much we loved and appreciated her.
These brownies were one way my brother and I honored our mother during the holiday season.
Let go of the Past and Embrace a Plan
Linda Moore, PhD, psychologist and author of What’s Wrong With Me?, reminds us to separate our feelings from the facts. For example, a caregiver might think, “My mother’s Alzheimer’s is going to ruin my holiday,” instead of realizing, “‘My mother’s Alzheimer’s may make my holiday different.”
“Once you can understand the holiday celebration may be different, you can plan and orchestrate a gathering that supports a person who may be less mobile, less verbal and less able to hear and understand,” Dr. Moore explains. “The planning helps diminish the emotionality in the situation.”
Tailor the Celebration
“Caregivers must be willing to adapt to the condition of the person with dementia,” says Dr. Ethelle Lord, a pioneer in Alzheimer’s coaching. “If people with dementia still enjoy opening gifts and seeing all the decorations, then go for it. If they no longer recognize the decorations/gifts, simplify their celebration.”
Tailor their holiday to meet their needs, while finding ways to honor your own holiday traditions.
“Many people with Alzheimer’s can relate to the sights, sounds, and aromas of the holidays,” says health and lifestyle expert Stephanie Stephens. Stephens felt her mother, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, still knew that “something was special” during the holiday season.
For Stephens, the holidays brought forth a mixture of joyful and sorrowful emotions. She comforted herself by remembering the many Christmas mornings of her childhood. She reviewed old photos from holidays past and held on to the memories, cognizant that those days were gone and this was now.
“Cherish your memories and find comfort in the spirit of the season,” she advises.
Take the Party to Them
“If your relative with dementia is in a long-term care home and it’s difficult for them to move about, take the party to them,” suggests Eleanor Feldman Barbera, PhD, author of The Savvy Resident’s Guide.
*****
Deborah Shouse is the author of Love in the Land of Dementia: Finding Hope in the Caregiver’s Journey. For a signed copy, contact Rainy Day books: 913-384-3126
Please learn more from and about these wise people.
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Giving Yourself the Silent Treatment: Five Easy Steps to Soothe Inner Chaos
Are there things you know that will make your life better and easier, and yet you can’t figure out how to incorporate them into your routine?
One of my key omissions is meditation and silence. That’s why I was very excited when I interviewed Sarah McLean, author of Soul Centered: Transform Your Life with 8 Weeks of Meditation. McLean’s father had dementia and she understands how difficult it can be to offer yourself those few moments of silence.
Five Ways to Ground Yourself Through Silence
For McLean, the silence has been an important part of her spiritual and personal growth.
“By practicing silence, we explore our intuition and our connection to the divine,” McLean says. “When I sit quietly, I become more aware of my own thoughts and I notice the habits that keep me from seeing the beauty in life,”
McLean offers these simple tips for inviting mindful silence into your life.
Wake up with awareness.
Give yourself a slice of silence for the first five minutes of your morning. Avoid instant connections to people, TV, radio or Internet.
Hear the stillness.
When possible, walk outdoors. Listen to the sounds and feel the stillness.
Enjoy a Silent Snack
For one meal or snack a day, turn off all noise and eat in silence. Be present with the taste of your food.
Practice Silence by Listening
Being a listener is a great way to start practicing silence. Wait until you are moved to speak; don’t compulsively fill up the quiet.
Practice Silence with Your Loved One Who Has Dementia
McLean wrote this after a visit with her father:
“There seemed to be nothing I could say to relate to him and to jar his memory. One day, I sat with him and meditated. Somewhere during my meditation, I had the thought to open my eyes to be sure he was all right. I was surprised to see him sitting up, alert, bright eyed, and smiling. He looked blissful and joyous. I closed my eyes and continued to meditate. When I left that day, I felt as if I had connected with him, and he with me for the first time in years. As a meditation teacher, I was amazed that it had taken me this long to think to do this. I visited him a few more times in December and early January and meditated, and felt fulfilled again and again. “
By adding in those moments of silence, you’re inviting more joy, fulfillment, inspiration, and connection.
*****
Along with her 25 year meditation practice, Sarah McLean has explored world spiritual and cultural traditions: she’s been a 2-year resident in a Zen Buddhist monastery, lived in an ashram in India, taught English to Tibetan Buddhist nuns, bicycled along the silk route through Pakistan, meditated in temples in Thailand and Japan, and trekked the Golden Triangle in Asia. She worked with Deepak Chopra for eight years as the Program Director of the Chopra Center for Well Being. Sarah McLean is passionate about teaching and sharing what she’s discovered about the modalities of mind/body health, self-awareness and her spiritual journey. Endorsed by Deepak Chopra and featured in The New York Times, Sarah is the founding director of the McLean Meditation Institute in Sedona, Arizona, which offers meditation classes, retreats and teacher certification courses. www.McLeanMeditation.com.
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You Don’t Need a Partner to Dance: The Power of Personal Writing
Recently I heard author Jill Lepore speak at the KC Public Library. During the Q and A session, someone asked, “Jill, you’re a staff writer for the New Yorker. How did that happen?”
“Well,” said Jill, “you know those cheesy old paintings where the hand of God reaches down through a cloud? It happened like that.”We all have those “hand of God” moments. For me, one such moment was when my friend, author Bernadette Stankard, suggested I send my book to her publisher, Central Recovery Press. I did and they were instantly interested. Just last week, I received the beautiful new edition of Love in the Land of Dementia: Finding Hope in the Caregiver’s Journey. Soon available, as they say, in “bookstores everywhere.”
So many hands, human hands, have helped me edit and shape this book and I am grateful to each person who contributed ideas and insights. I am also grateful that I gave myself permission to write these stories.
For me, writing is about learning to dance on the page.
While I write, I picture a woman living in a trailer in North Dakota. In the evening, she sits in a brown living room, her husband in a lounger watching television, her son sprawled on the floor doing homework. She picks up my book and is transported, connected to the deeper parts of herself. When her husband asks, “Why are you crying?” she hands him the open book. The noise of the television blurs as he reads.
“You’re not really a writer until you’ve been published,” a journalism professor once told me.
The more I write, the less I believe him
The tender manuscript goes out, primped and dressed up, clean and on good behavior, ready to meet the right editor. The process of getting published is akin to looking for love: a blend of alchemy, philosophy and fate. For every one of my stories that unfurl themselves in the pages of a magazine, I have a stack of shy sisters, waiting to be invited onto the dance floor so they can reveal their billowy brilliance.
I invite myself out onto the dance floor.
Last week, I received four pieces of mail that weren’t from major utility companies. I knew from the solemn brown of the envelopes that three were rejections. One was a card. Like a good child swallowing medicine before eating cake, I opened each rejection. Two were forms. The third said, “Gee, good story. My ex-girlfriend is also from Kansas.”
The card was from the daughter of my dear friend, who had recently died. As a way of sorting through my own grief, I’d written her daughters a letter, describing how much I admired their mother.
“Dear Deborah,” her daughter wrote me now, “Your letter meant so much to our family. I made copies for my sisters and we are carrying them around in our purses. I read the letter to my cousin in Texas. We both cried…”
As I read this card, my stack of rejections grew insignificant. I remembered why I want to write: simply, to connect with people.
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Six Tips for Surviving the Holiday Season When a Loved One Has Dementia
Normally, Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday, a time our family gathered together at my Kansas City home. But that November, my stomach clenched at the thought of our traditional Thursday evening meal.
My mother had Alzheimer’s and the holiday would be different. I felt alone but of course I wasn’t: there were 15 million family/friend caregivers helping the five million Americans who have dementia.
I’d been through my initial storm of denial and grief. I felt I’d been coping well with Mom’s diagnosis, focusing on offering my father extra support and trying to flow with Mom’s now spotty memory and personality quirks. But a pre-season sadness invaded me in October and I found myself dreading the alleged festivities. How could we have our usual holiday dinner, take our after dinner walks, play Scrabble and Hearts and Charades without Mom’s participation? How could we enjoy going to movies and plays when Mom was having trouble focusing and sitting still? And how would Mom react to the situation: would she feel uncomfortable and out of place? Would Dad feel protective and anxious? And more important, what would we have for dessert! Mom was legendary for her chocolate and butterscotch brownies, date crumbs, and bourbon balls. No store-bought cookies would compare.
As I stewed over the prospect of a depressing Thanksgiving weekend, I remembered the vows I had made: I had promised I would try to stay connected to Mom throughout her Alzheimer’s journey. And I had promised to see the gifts and blessings and fun in the experience.
So I began thinking: if the holiday is going to be different, why not concentrate on making it different in a creative and connective way? Here are some ideas I used to make the holiday work for me.
- Acknowledge my feelings of loss and grief. I wrote them down and shared them with a few friends. Just expressing myself made me feel stronger.
- List what I would miss most during the holiday season. My list included cooking with Mom, eating her brownies and rum balls. I asked my brother, who’s a terrific baker, to make some of our favorite sweets and I set up a place in the dining room where Mom could sit next to me while I chopped mushrooms and peeled potatoes.
- Create an activity to give our holiday a new focus. We created a simple holiday scrapbook called, “The Little Kitchen that Could,” complete with a family photo shoot and a playful script.
- Appreciate my blessings. We started our Thanksgiving meal by asking everyone to name one thing he or she was grateful for. I continued my gratitude practice throughout the holiday season, either alone or with others via telephone and social media.
- Take extra good care of myself. I treated yourself as I would a friend who’d suffered a deep loss.
- Set up a lifeline. “I’m worried about melting down,” I told my friend. She urged me to call anytime for encouragement and reassurance.
These six steps helped me enjoy my holiday and appreciate my mom just as she was. Our holiday was “different” but it was also wonderful.
*****
Q 4 U : How have you adapted your holiday expectations?
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Four Ways to Acknowledge Loss: Seeing What’s Left in the Empty House
The scary house is gone. My grandson Robert, age two-and-a-half, stares forlornly at the ordinary-looking yard, unable to quite take in the transformation.
For the three weeks leading up to Halloween, this lawn was one of Robert’s favorite haunting places. Our neighbor created a spooky graveyard, complete with a turning black-robed ghoul that twisted its sinister head to glare right at you, a skeleton that popped up from behind a tombstone, a gargoyle with evil red eyes that crouched menacingly on the porch roof, a wicked looking fence, a tower with a secret compartment that housed a pulsing corpse, and a blue-eyed ghost that floated mysteriously in the background. The first night Robert saw this spectacle, he held tight to his grandfather’s hand and stared. He didn’t want to get too close and he didn’t want to leave; he watched from a safe distance and noticed everything.
Even in the daylight, Robert didn’t want to get too close. But he was captivated by all the scary activity and he loved sitting across the street from the house, waiting for a car to drive past so the “up and down” man behind the tombstone would thrust upwards and surprise us. Every day that I picked him up from school, he asked to go to the scary house. This normally racing, spinning, bouncing boy would then sit still and we discussed the gargoyle, the ghoul, the crow, the pumpkin, and more.
But today, the day after Halloween, the yard is mere grass. Robert holds my hand and we talk about all the creatures that were there, just yesterday. He notices the indentation the tower made in the grass and stands in that spot. He is sentinel-still and solemn, trying to understand this great and sudden loss. Then he points, excited. “The ghost.” he says. The ghost is still hovering on the screened-in back porch. The ghost is Robert’s favorite and we are both very glad to see him. When we finally have to go, he waves goodbye to the ghost, content that at least something is left.
As we walk home, I think about some of my own “scary houses,” things that both intrigued and frightened me. My mother’s Alzheimer’s was a terrifying mansion.
I remember visiting the Alzheimer’s Association and having the social worker show my father and me a picture of the brain with advanced dementia. After I returned home, I wrote about my feelings, saying, “ I look around my living room and imagine a man walking in and silently removing the sofas. No comfortable way to sit down. Another man comes in and takes the coffee table. No place to set down a teacup. One person removes the pictures and lamps, another hauls out the books. I imagine the room stripped down to its original emptiness.
“My mother is going to lose everything,” I say aloud, hearing my voice echo in the imaginary emptiness …
Then I remember walking into my house before I bought it, and falling in love with the emptiness, the scarred wooden floors, the wide-open space, and the plain cream-colored walls. Even without any of the comfort and familiarity of furniture, the rooms had their own beauty.
I close my eyes and imagine that beauty. I pray I will have the courage to discover who my mother is, day by day, and to love her as her new emptiness unfolds.”
Robert knows just how to take in his loss: stand still, take your time, remember everything you’ve lost and then appreciate what is still there.
As for my mother, even though she’s passed away, she never “gave up the ghost.” She’s still here with me.
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Beware of Caregiver Breakdown: Three Warning Signs and Three Soothing Actions
My stomach hurt most of the time. As I dashed around the house, getting ready to go see Mom in the Memory Care Unit, I frequently bumped into furniture. I found myself drifting away during meetings and unable to concentrate when I sat at the computer to write. And even though I had wonderful, supportive friends, I often felt an aching loneliness. Later, I learned these were normal symptoms of caregiver’s fatigue.
I asked my friend Linda Moore, psychologist, community leader and author of the newly released book, “What’s Wrong with Me?” to tell me more about recognizing and managing such exhaustion. Here are some of her insights.
Three Areas Where Stress Screeches You to a Halt
Physical
“Your body is the early warning system,” Linda says. “But most people try to ignore the on-going tiredness, low energy, muscle spasms, unfamiliar aches and pains, and GI issues.”
Emotional
Often, after I’d spent hours solving problems around Mom’s care, I had a heavy feeling of disconnection and a dull anger. Nothing mattered and I felt sad, rootless and lonely. But I kept going. Caregivers tend to push past such feelings.
Behavioral
“Poor concentration is one common sign of stress,” Linda says. When friends say, “You’re just not acting like yourself,” it’s a cue to slow down and drink a cup of soothing tea, read a short magazine article, or phone a friend. Other stress symptoms include procrastination and isolating yourself.
Fight Breakdown with the MEE Plan
“Meditate, even if it’s just for a minute,” Linda advises.
Sit quietly, count to four as you breathe in and count to six as you breathe out. Watch your thoughts wiggle around. One minute of meditation calms you; five minutes energizes you and 20 minutes of daily meditation can really center you and give you a greater sense of well-being.
Exercise
“Everybody knows it works and no one wants to do it,” Linda says. Even when you’re so tuckered out that your fingernails feel heavy, movement matters. Five minutes just walking around the house or prancing around to “Dancing Queen” can ratchet up your energy. Fifteen minutes of walking can lift your mood. Even a jog up stairs or unloading the dishwasher can shift your energy.
Eat healthy.
Is a banana really as delicious as a dark chocolate truffle? Many would say no. But most would agree, the banana is better for you. Even if you often eat on the run, choose fruits and vegetables to snack on. Throw in salads, whole grains, soups and nuts. And don’t forget the truffle: be sure you indulge every so often in a comfort food you really adore.
Lastly, Linda advises, “Don’t give away your personal power: ask for help when appropriate and learn to say no.” #
Dr. Linda Moore is a psychologist, author, speaker and consultant in Kansas City. She specializes in the psychology of women, stress management and leadership. 
Q 4 U
I bump into furniture when I’m stressed. What are some of your stress signals?
*****
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Making a List: Including Fun in the Caregiver’s Journey
“You need to do something fun,” a friend said.
“I’m too tired to think of something fun,” I said.
My parents were going through a particularly hard time; my mother’s behavior had gone beyond the scope of assisted living and they had advised that she go into a psych ward to have her medications re-evaluated. My father was worn to a frazzle and we were both unnerved by Mom’s zombie-like appearance as the doctors tried to figure out the correct combination of medicines. Fun seemed like a word from another planet.
Yet I realized my friend was right: I needed to do something that would cheer me onward.
Creating Fun-Sized Options
So early one morning, before I was tired or confused or sad, I made a list of little items or activities that gave me a sense of well being.
At first, the list was small—I was too brain-worn to think of much:
Eat chocolate.
Read for pleasure.
Do a crossword puzzle.
Walk outside.
Talk with people I cared about.
I crammed the list into my pocket and when I thought of something new, I jotted it down.
During the next week I added:
Listen to Dancing Queen.
Hold a stuffed bear.
Collage.
Go to yoga.
Sleep late.
Dance to Dancing Queen.
Making Time for Fun While Still Being a Very Responsible Person
That weekend, I vowed I would do three things on my list. I ate chocolate (OK, that was an easy one, but I had to start somewhere!), talked with a friend, and read two chapters of a mystery.
I felt lifted up, as renewed as if I’d had four hours in the spa. And I still was there for my parents, my work, and other life responsibilities. So I continued the process of adding to my list and incorporating one fun thing into every day. Sometimes it was only part of a crossword puzzle or creating a three-minute collage while I was on hold with my mother’s doctor. But even those few minutes gave me back a part of myself and allowed me to more fully appreciate my interesting and chaotic life.
Q for U:
How about you — what are the small fun things on your list? And are you giving yourself time to do them?
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The Caregiver’s Recipe for Prevention: An Ounce of Spice and a Whole Foods Mediterranean Diet
“My mother has Alzheimer’s. What can I do so I don’t get the disease?”
Frequently worried caregivers ask Marwan Sabbagh, MD, author of The Alzheimer’s Prevention Cookbook: Recipes to Boost Brain Health, that question. Dr. Sabbagh is a geriatric neurologist, dementia specialist and the Research Medical Director of the Banner Sun Health Research Institute in Arizona. He understands the concerns and fears of caregivers and he is able to offer them hope. 
“The changes in the brain that lead to Alzheimer’s or dementia start 25 years before the first day of forgetfulness,” Dr. Sabbagh says. “The dementia is at the end of the disease, not at the beginning.”
The more he researched the impact of spices and food on the brain, the more he realized the importance of diet in boosting brain health.
Foods are More Effective than Supplements in Protecting the Brain
* The nutritional values of food are well researched; the nutritional value of supplements varies widely from company to company.
* The body can break down food into small, transportable molecules that can permeate the brain’s protective barrier and reach the brain with the nutrients still intact; supplements aren’t as easily broken down and often cannot penetrate the blood-brain barrier.
“The road from our mouth to our brain is long and winding. Because of the way we digest food and nutrients, the best source of neurotransmitter precursors is almost always food; supplements are much less reliable,” Dr. Sabbagh writes.
Caregivers Need Nourishing Foods
“Caregivers take the disease on the chin,” Dr. Sabbagh says. “Their stress levels are higher than the people with Alzheimer’s.”
This stress weakens the immune system and puts them at risk for illness and disease.
Five Ways to Boost Your Brain Now
* Spice Up Your Life and Increase your Antioxidants
The spices that add the biggest boost of healing antioxidants include
cloves, oregano, rosemary, thyme, cinnamon and turmeric. Add turmeric to your eggs. Sprinkle cinnamon into your coffee or smoothie. Include rosemary in your salad.
* B is for Brain Health
“The three most important vitamins for brain health are B6, B9 and B12,” Dr. Sabbagh writes.
For B6, eat sunflower and sesame seeds, pistachios, bananas, spinach, and vegetable juices.
For B9, nibble on broccoli, kale, lentils, peas, and strawberries.
For B12, eat eggs, shellfish or fatty fish. For vegetarians, take a supplement.
* Dine Mediterranean Style
Reduce red meat, decrease saturated fats; add more fish and fruits and vegetables. The more fruits and vegetables, the healthier the brain.
* Believe it Can Happen
“You have to make a commitment to incorporate healthy eating into your life,” Dr. Sabbagh advises. “Part of this is psychological. If you believe this is hard, that belief will make it hard. It you believe that a whole foods diet is part of who you are and how you live, you can easily weave healthy eating into your life.”
* Don’t’ Wait: start today.
***
Q for U:
How do you add nourishing foods and spices into your daily diet?
***
For more information about boosting brain health, visit Dr. Sabbagh’s website:
http://www.marwansabbaghmd.com
Read his book The Alzheimer’s Prevention Cookbook: Recipes to Boost Brain Health, written with world-famous chef Beau MacMillan.
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Bringing the Faraway Closer
Many weekday afternoons I stole away from my workday for a little rendezvous. I drove far into the southern part of the city.
There I hurried through the lobby, walked swiftly down the corridors and until I reached the locked door. There I punched in a secret code that allowed me into the inner sanctum, the memory care unit where my mother lived.
Walking into my mother’s room was always a surprise: I never knew who would greet me; a sweet curly-haired woman wearing a pink sweat suit and looking quietly compose? An anxious haggard woman who bent to pick up invisible lint on the floor and jabbered with invisible creatures lurking in the corners? Or an exhausted former beauty, lying across the single bed wearing an orange pullover and an adult diaper? My task was to appreciate every aspect of my complicated mother and whoever she was at the moment.
When my friend Maril asked, “Can I go with you to visit your mother?” I felt like a flutter of angels had gathered around me.
“Really?” I asked. “You want to see Mom with me?”
She did. I prepared her for our visit, describing Mom’s various moods. Maril did not seem shocked, worried or afraid. I told her about walking into the sometimes chaotic energy of the locked Alzheimer’s unit. She simply nodded as if this were an ordinary occurrence, which, for me, it was.
The day of our visit I felt lightness inside; I was eager to share my secret world with my friend.
Throughout the years, Mom has always been gracious with my friends and that day was no exception. Mom was sitting at a table in the dining room with a magazine in front of her. She looked pretty and serene and she smiled when we came in. We sat next to her and Maril took her hands.
“How are you Fran?” Maril said, looking into my mother’s eyes.
“Well I you know the scatter of it all,” my mother answered.
“I do know the scatter of it all. How are you getting along here?”
“Like a diamond in the sky,” my mother said.
As I listened as my mother and my friend talk, I was “Your mother is really something,” Maril said as we left the home. “I enjoyed seeing her. I’d like to go again with you sometime.”proud of my mother’s poetic and eccentric answers, proud of the way she engaged in the conversation. And I was grateful that my friend was able to appreciate my mother, listen to her words and intuit their deeper meaning.
The visit was a huge gift for me. Seeing Maril engage with and appreciate my mom just as she was reminded me of the depths of my mother’s many talents and facets. This knowledge later helped me get through those moments when my mother seemed faraway or lost. My friend reminded me- there are so many ways to carry on a good conversation. All you need is attention, intention and love.