In an effort to make daddy feel important, useful and to give him a sense of purpose, here are a few things I’ve put in place as part of his Dementia care plan, which are what I consider non-pharmacological therapies.

1. He chooses what he wears daily. I’ve explained in another blog post (Equipping Our Home) about how his clothes are separated and arranged in different sections of his closet: everyday use; bed-time clothes; dress-up clothes, etc. This way, it’s less confusing for him, plus it establishes familiarity

2. He pays for the newspapers. He also keeps a log of his spending to keep track of his money. This gives him a sense of purpose, responsibility and independence

3. Pre-Covid-19, dad used to withdraw his money from an ATM machine. Trust me, teaching him how to use it in the first place was an enormously challenging task and a really lengthy process. Additionally, he could rarely remember his pin number, but with some help, he managed to navigate this. It has been more than a year since he’s seen an ATM machine, so we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Letting him manage his finances gives him a sense of importance and identity

4. Until Tesco Delivery changed their payment device (now it’s one that requires a signature on a screen using a finger), dad used to pay for the groceries using my supplementary credit card. Again, this was implemented to give him a sense of purpose, importance and responsibility. As with moving times, this method of payment is no longer suitable for dad as it’s become difficult for him to navigate this unfamiliar device

5. Because dad has been pampered to the hilt, even filling up his glass with water was something he didn’t do. He now fills up his own glass when its empty, puts his books and stationery away, folds his blanket as soon as he wakes up in the morning, pushes his chair in after getting off it and a couple of other small tasks around the house

6. For years, someone had to put dad’s socks on for him because he just couldn’t do it himself. After a year of practice with me being around full time, he’s found a way to do this himself

Here are some other activities that dad does on a daily basis:

1. He plays Sudoku and Word Search on his iPad for about half an hour when he wakes up
2. He works on his Word Search activity book after breakfast, then reads the newspapers
3. He lists down six daily headlines from the newspapers (good for finger dexterity and cognition)
4. He goes for a morning walk after his breakfast, accompanied by either me or our helper
5. He enjoys 10 minutes of the morning sun in our garden when the weather permits
6. Depending on what day of the week it is, dad alternates between doing Tai Chi, Love To Move and Strength Training exercises in the evenings. Sunday’s, we do some singing and dancing activities
7. Again, depending on what day of the week it is, he helps dry out his clothes after they are washed (not without some grumbling!)
8. He plays Checkers and BlackJack (a fun math card game) at night after dinner while listening to songs from the 50’s and 60’s (music has strong connections with emotions and memories. To find what’s relevant for a person, we look at music that was popular when they were between the ages of 15 to 25)
9. He has his own set of house keys and is responsible for locking and unlocking the doors every time he comes in or out (it’s faster if we did it ourselves, but to activate brain neurons and give him importance, plus in case of an emergency, dad is encouraged to do this himself)
10. He does some pruning in the garden during the evenings i.e., removing dead leaves from potted plants

I feel that empowering daddy to do what he is still physically able to do is a really important aspect of caring for him. Any activity that requires some thinking or analyzing is going towards building new neurons. Additionally, encouraging responsibility offers him a sense of purpose and self-dignity while enhancing independence.

Keeping him alive would simply mean ensuring he is fed, bathed and clothed.

Keeping him in optimal health, in the throes of a progressive, terminal disease takes the patience of a saint.

Above all, it takes love.