Visits witih Lynne can be hard when we see her less vivacious than our cherished memories of her. Understandably people are afraid to visit, including me, when I don’t have a way to cheer her up, so it’s easy avoid it. And yet her condition nags at us because we love her. I have learned that my times, or family times, or friends times, are always meaningful for the visitors, and almost always meaningful for her. They are meaningful for me and others because we tried to give Lynne a better time than she would have had without our visits. Below are stories of simple visits that demonstrate visits are almost always meaningful for her. Lynne told one of her friends told her to go away, so she did, and came back the next day to share a cheerful visit. Imagine how meaningful it was for Lynne’s friend to have the courage to immediately visit again when Lynne was glad to see her.
The good news is Lynne is more responsive and walking more upright since we changed her medications. Last Sunday friend, Lynn, sent me a message. I helped Lynne eat lunch and gave her a cinnamon roll which she ate as we walked outside. We laughed quite a bit and complemented each other on excellent hairdos. She was in good spirits. Obviously friend Lynn was in good spirits about her visit.
Her boys and Pam, my other daughter, saw improvements for an hour-and-a-half lately. She pointed at me and told them. That’s my dad. She pronounced the title on a poster: Mardi Gras. We sat in the lobby and talked. I called out a to resident close by, Hello. How many boys do you have? Lynne answered immediately, Five. I have rarely seen visitors with her. She sits with other residents in the lobby. They tell Lynne, You’re lucky. Your dad comes to visit you. I know those statements make her happy. They make me feel more meaningful.
Today when I met Lynne she was sobbing, tears flowed down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around me, saying, She took it all. She took everything.
Really? Everything?
Yes, everything.
I pulled back and looked her in the eyes. Hon, I was just in your room. She didn’t take it all. It’s all there.
It is? Well OK. I lifted her mood and made me feel meaningful. I put on her headphones and backpack to hear the Sister’s Music list from her sister Pam. Lynne gazed up and nodded her head. She mouthed some words. Her body slightly swayed to the music. I was glad I brought the headphones and Pam sent a list. It kept her mood mellow. Pam and I both feel more meaningful about her music. I am grateful for Pam’s care.
I walked beside her, slipped my hand under hers and left it open. Sometimes she moved her hand away. Sometimes she let our hands touch. Sometimes she grabbed my finger, three fingers, the whole hand. Sometimes a grip. Sometimes gentle. It made her more connected, secure, stable. I felt more meaningful. I steered her up to the 6th, 5th, 4th, 3rd floors and the lobby. She studied photos revolving across television screens on every floor. She often turned to smile at me. We were both getting some exercise. I felt more meaningful. I waved to her when I left her floor before lunch. I felt I improved her feelings for a little while. I felt more meaningful. Don’t let fear keep her from giving her a more meaningful journey.
I have not been able to visit in the past couple of weeks. Thank you for your post, Jim. I am going to try and go this week.
You amd Pam are wonderful !
Thank you so much for writing this, Jim. It expresses both sides of how I feel. When I visited her last week, I was casting about for something to talk about, and I said that I was had an upcoming meeting with a family who always brings a lawyer. Her head whipped around, she looked me in the eye, and said, “Oh, dear God!!” She completely made me laugh. It was such a quintessentially Lynne thing to say.