I can never say enough for the caregivers who have been Mom's daily companions during the past three years as her dementia has grown more serious. She can hardly put two words together today, and she needs complete care in dressing, bathing, and toileting, but her caregivers always seem to have a sense of her as a person. While my wife, Linda, and I were visiting Mom today, one of her caregivers, Bin, stopped by. Mom's face is often a mask, but she gave Bin a big smile.
Bin said that she likes the way Mom talks to her. She will ask her if she wants to get dressed or go to dinner, and Mom will say, "I think so," or "I guess so."
I liked the fact that Bin could remember something like that and tell us. Perhaps "I think" and "I guess" are Mom's way of acknowledging that she lives in a world that is something of a blur. Perhaps there are no more certainties for her....
This is a picture of Bin with Mom. The drawing in the background is our father, who died in 1970.
One of the things I like very much about Sunrise, where Mom is staying, is that it is incredibly homey. If I found an inn in Switzerland like this place, I'd want to spend a few days. Part of the hominess comes from the pets. On the third floor, where people like Mom need extra care, they have two cats. This one is named "Tux" -- for obvious reasons.
Tux is a PAWS ("Progressive Animal Welfare Service" -- I think) cat, as is the other Sunrise cat. Another pet, Sue, also barely excaped an early death. She is what is known as a "rescued greyhound" -- a former racing dog who belongs to Sunrise director Gail Zink. Here Sue is with her own "pet," a stuffed squirrel:
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