Dementia and Caregiving: I can take better care of her

Spoiler alert – I definitely cannot.

Narrative

Making the decision to move your loved one into a facility is very difficult. There are a myriad of reasons why families find themselves at this cross roads, and if you have read my post about how we got there (see I don’t think I will ever be ok with a move to Memory Care) you know that exit-seeking was the final straw for us. Mom’s safety was the most important thing, and moving her into our homes would have required 24 hour 1:1 care.

The guilt from this decision is ever-present and I tend to constantly feel guilt about it. So the narrative that I could care for her better than Memory Care, is something that creeps up quite a bit. 

Bruise

One time while visiting Mom she had a large bruise on her arm. I immediately started to wonder how this could have happened. How could they let this happen. And following closely behind these thoughts is some form of “I could care for her better.”

When Mom’s hair looks unwashed, or she’s walking around the unit with a stain on her shirt, I think how I would never let her look this way. But the truth is, I have no idea how I would care for my mom. 

More than love

Loving someone does not mean that any of these things would not happen. Even with 24 hour 1:1 care, people fall and bump into things. I also know that Mom could care less if she has a stain on her shirt. So though I want to preserve her dignity, it’s my imposed definitions. Mom is fine. 

As a medical provider who has worked in hospitals, nursing homes and Memory Care units, the reality is that your loved one is not getting personal 1:1 attention. Well, unless you pay for a private duty aide. And even then you cannot guarantee the kind of care you feel you could give. 

And above all else, dementia is hard. Being a caregiver is hard. It’s easy to picture yourself providing a level of care that no one else could because of your love. But reality looks quite different. 

Basic needs…and more

I know that my mother is having all her basic needs met. Shelter, food, medications, bodily-care. She is also having higher needs met like engagement, activities, stimulation and entertainment. I could never give her all of this. Just meeting her basic needs would have me exhausted. And probably resentful. 

So when these thoughts creep in, that I would never let Mom look this way or let that happen, I correct them quickly. I replace them with gratitude that she is being taken care of and having all of her needs met and then some. Is her facility perfect? Of course not. But it’s pretty darn good. And if I’m honest with myself, they do infinitely better than I could at their job.