Moving With Dementia

Growing up, I lived in the same house, neighborhood, and town from toddlerhood until moving into a college dorm.  I went to grade school, middle school (or junior high, as we called it back then), and high school with the same group of kids.  I attended Sunday school at Central Lutheran Church, had the same pediatrician all my young years, and lived next door to the Johnstons throughout my childhood.  I stopped for candy at the corner market while walking home from school.   My dad worked and my mom stayed home.  Dinner was served in the dining room, family style, every evening at 6 PM.  My dad passed away at 74 years old in the family home and my mom sold it after living there 52 years.

Life was familiar. Established. Proven.

By the time Doug and I met, in my second year of college, he had lived in numerous houses and several towns. His upbringing was markedly different than mine.  Since being married, we have lived in 16 houses and 6 towns.  Our children had a stable upbringing that included living in fixer-uppers and having for-sale signs in the yard.  A very different experience from mine.

Doug and I know how to pack boxes, hang pictures on the walls, and move furniture without a ding.  We are experienced “Uhaulers” both short and long distances.  We know how to clean and inspect houses both coming and going.  Mr. Fix-it was Doug’s nickname in my mind.  I knew he could fix anything.  That was our ace in the hole.  Sweat equity.  The worst house in the best neighborhood.  No project was too big or small.  Equity led the charge.  If the spreadsheet said to do it, then we did it.  The kids knew moving as an exciting new adventure. 

This month, we have made what I’m calling our final move (I hope…).  We packed, cleaned, Uhauled, hung pictures, and unpacked.  The new house is two blocks from the old house.  Same neighborhood, different street.  The reason we moved is complicated.  Moving with dementia is also complicated.

Making the decision to change addresses was my decision alone.  I discussed it with Doug like in the past, but his input regarding all the complications was minimal. Each time I brought up the relocating quandaries, he needed reminding that moving was on the horizon.  As the choices were made one by one and the move became a reality, Doug showed excitement and energy towards a new adventure.  I guess moving is in his DNA.  He’s done it a lot.  I think he likes new beginnings.  But I was concerned.  This time, Doug and I were moving with dementia.  Mr. Fix-it, in my mind, was a thing of the past, so I hired a handyman. 

Flexibility and change energized Doug.  Dementia, however, causes confusion and apprehension.  Doug now requires consistency and stability.  Not exactly the definition of “Relocate”.  So, I figured staying in the same familiar neighborhood might help even just a little.

I decided to take the move slowly, one day at a time.  Doug and I worked together to take things to the new house over three weeks, mostly in the evenings after I was home from work.  I decided to leave the furniture for the last.  I hired movers to help with that. 

Over the three weeks, Doug and I moved a room, a closet, or a cupboard at a time in the back seat of the car.  It required many trips and lots of repetitive patience on my part.  We took it slow, and when Doug showed signs of fatigue, confusion, or anxiety, we took a break, a breather, a time out.  It worked pretty well.  By the time the furniture arrived at the end of the three weeks, the rest of the house was mostly put together. Even the garage!  I knew where the spoons and forks were.  I could find a broom and a screwdriver, and I even found sheets to make up the beds.  But best of all, Doug accepted the new space as his new home with no trouble.

We are both adjusting well.  Doug likes the freshness of new.  He especially likes the recycling and trash bins in the kitchen.  We just got them (an early Christmas gift to us from us).  He can’t find the forks or spoons however, so I’m glad I know where they are.  The first couple of sleeps in the house, in the dark, were disorienting.  Nighttime can be that way with dementia.  Shadows tell stories, and darkness changes reality.  I bought some nightlights.  We are both sleeping better now.

Doug has a calm, gentle, settled demeanor going into this holiday season.  I am so grateful.  That was one of my many goals surrounding this move.  I am also grateful to be moved by Christmas and have Christmas music playing through the house.  Music has been an incredible stabilizing tool throughout this move.  We played it in the car, garage, and in both houses, coming and going.  Music and Doug have always been a team.  Music and Doug, with dementia, are nearly inseparable.  But that’s a different blog for a different day.

I am very thankful for this holiday season.  I am counting my blessings.  Last year, at this time, signs and symptoms were confusing and undiagnosed.  Next year at this time… I can’t even imagine.  So, I choose to take a deep breath, stay in the now, and be grateful… Very grateful. 

Merry Christmas, and may you enjoy God’s many blessings and feel His love in 2020, wherever it may take you.  One-day-at-a-time.

Karen