I planned a Christmas event today with Mom and other residents on the third floor at Sunrise. As is so often the case, the reality did not quite live up to my vision of the reality. The plan was to watch the video of "White Christmas" -- not just with Mom, which is usually the case with one of our film events, but with anyone on the third floor who found their way into the living room or was brought in by the aids. All of that did in fact happen. But I also hoped that the film would be so engrossing that everyone would be riveted to the screen and uplifted.
It did not quite happen that way. When I am not with Mom, I tend to forget the degree to which serious dementia affects how a person reacts to any stimulation. I played the full two hours of the film for Mom and a half dozen or so other residents sitting near the TV -- and there were moments of what I might call engagement. But I think that most of the time the film was more like "white noise" for the residents -- something in the background.
In particular, while I followed the plot and was gripped by a certain anticipation -- will that woman come around and realize that Bing Crosby (a) loves her and (b) is a damned fine fellow? -- the residents were not drawn into the story. At one point a man wandered up to the TV and tried absent-mindedly to change the channel. No one could see the screen for a minute or so while he searched for the controls, but no one seemed to mind. Eventually he sat down and sort of watched with everyone else.
Somehow it was OK anyway. I enjoyed the picture. Everyone seemed contended enough to be hanging out in that space. And there was one transcendent moment --
Right at the beginning, when Bing Crosby sang, "White Christmas," everyone seemed alert for a moment, humming, moving their heads, as if awakened by a gentle breeze to a memory of their earlier lives.
After the film was over, I said goodbye to Mom and walked back to my car. Wanting exercise, I had parked the car in downtown Mercer Island perhaps half a mile from Sunrise. After a few minutes walking I was among the marts of trade -- Hollywood Video, QFC groceries, Walgreen's drug store, McDonalds, Starbucks coffee.
I felt that I had entered another world, and it was curious to realize how little the folk down here knew of the other world a few blocks away on the hill -- and how my Mom and other residents of the third floor at Sunrise were unaware of the world of commerce down the hill.
Return to "Caring for Mom" home page.