The holiday season is the busiest and best time of the year. Don't forget to save a little of that for your loved ones with dementia. A lot of behaviors rise from past routines that they can no longer do. Many a residents have made extravagant Christmas dinners and opened gifts with family members. So come Christmas, they will certainly be wondering where you are.
Dear loved one,
Today is Christmas. I couldn't remember what time of the year It was, but the lady that helped me dress this morning picked out a nice Christmas sweater for me and some matching earrings. I told the lady that I needed to go wake you up, because Santa had come and you had been very good this year. The lady wanted me to come down to breakfast, but I told her "no." So, I walked the building for hours looking for you. My feet were really sore and they began to bleed, but I was so worried that you were lost. I tried so hard to find you.
I couldn't eat lunch either. I told the lady that I was too busy for that, I had a whole family to feed and everyone was counting on me. I picked up every phone I could find to try to call a taxi, but the phone would not work. The lady grabbed my hand to try to convince me to sit down and eat lunch and I hit her across the face. I don't know who she is or why she would touch me like that. I asked everyone who passed me if they had an extra ham I could have to make for you.
At supper, you never showed. I worked so hard to make a Christmas dinner for you and it is laying on the plate, cold. I put it in the fridge for you, in case you would come. I stood by the front door looking for you.
Dear loved one of hers,
Today is Christmas so I helped the resident put on a nice Christmas sweater and some matching earrings, in hopes that her family would come see her today. She told me that she had to go wake up her kids to open presents so I tried to redirect her, "that sounds like a nice idea, but first we should have some breakfast and then we will find them." She walked away from me and walked around the quads for three hours looking for her children. I tried to redirect her again, as she had not had her TED socks and bunion cushions on. Her feet were so swollen and her toes were bleeding.
I hoped that she would calm down by lunch time, as she had not ate breakfast. She was trying to call a taxi to drive her to the grocery store to buy a ham for her family. She didn't know the number and was pressing random buttons. I tried to redirect her again, I talked with her about the beautiful Christmas tree and the snow outside. She smiled so I held her hand to bring her to the dinning room. She slapped me across the face.
Come supper, she had finally sat down at the table for dinner. But she would not eat. She stared at the plate and the empty seats next to her. She brought her plate to the fridge in the dining room and walked away without making eye contact with anyone. She stood by the front door and stared outside for hours. I tried to talk to her or to at least persuade her to sit down in our comfy chairs by the front door, but she wouldn't even look at me. She did not acknowledge that I was even there.
