Grandma Frances was quite the character and one of the first elders I ever remember meeting that was living with dementia. She was the queen of the castle at the nursing home where she lived and where I first fell in love with elders.
Frances dutifully attended nearly every activity I presented to her, I suspect so she could keep an eye on her neighbors and keep up on the gossip. But I was thrilled nonetheless! This was my very first experience in Life Engagement. I was fresh out of college, brand new to senior living and had absolutely no idea what I was doing, so Frances always made me feel like I was doing an excellent job. We would exercise each morning, go fishing, hand out candy on Halloween, bake dog biscuits for my therapy dog and sing and clap to our favorite band every Friday afternoon. I was on cloud nine…until I wasn’t.
After a particularly rowdy game of bingo one afternoon (yes, I used to call Bingo 6 days a week. What can I say? When you know better you do better) Frances delivered my fall from grace. She accused me, ME, of stealing the quarters that she had won at Bingo. Over the next few weeks, she would go on to accuse me of stealing money, jewelry, and puzzle pieces too. I was devastated. I didn’t understand, I thought Frances and I had something special, a true friendship.
I soon embarked on my lifelong journey of learning about dementia and the people who live with it. I learned that these accusations were quite common, if ever so hard to stomach. I had to learn what so many of us have had to, that arguing and convincing never work and the only way is to come alongside the person living with dementia and meet them where they are at.
With this revelation our relationship began to blossom again. Frances furiously crocheted a blanket for my son when I was pregnant with him. She informed me of decades worth of small mountain town gossip. She shared her world famous Italian pizzelle recipe with me. And she taught me exactly how to bake the perfect loaf of braided Easter bread that we would slave over each and every Good Friday. A tradition, I am proud to say, my son and I have continued to this day.
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