Hot Chocolate Moments

Nothing at all? Our lives do not become some compressed, medical version of ourselves when dementia enters the picture. So moments for play, a treat, or a visit from a loved one, should never become a line item on the care plan or viewed with a medical lens. It should happen just because and enjoyed for the beauty of being in a relationship with a loved one. 

Everything? When we engage in the things that make us feel fully alive – no matter what else is going on – we are equipped to live a higher quality of life, wealthy in connection, hope, joy, and community. Food can be a big part of that joy. Engaged in with purpose and community. It is an element of a life fully alive. So while we may have a special program on the calendar for hot chocolate, root beer floats, or ice cream socials, it should be offered with joy and dignity. It should be offered because the people we are serving enjoy that particular treat and we should treat that program like a coffee (or hot chocolate) date with a friend. 

As family members when visiting loved ones, from time to time, bringing with you a baked good or something to share together can break the uncertainty and discomfort that can accompany a visit. 

Make it social. Make it of quality. Make it human. Connect over a shared treat, engage in conversation (not only service) and allow the real emotions and conversations to ebb and flow the way a time spent with an old friend. 

This weekend, I want to share with you a possible moment you can have with a loved one living with dementia. When my grandma was living in a skilled care community in the later part of her journey with Vascular Dementia, my dad would visit on Sundays with a treat in hand. A pastry from the grocery store, a homemade cookie. They would split this treat together entering into one of the most beautiful and simple ways of connecting. 

Food connects us, it allows us to use our senses to recall memories, share stories, and do something together that does not demand anything of us. On those Sundays, it was in this breaking of the bread – sometimes literally – that it didn’t matter the type of day my grandmother was having or the fears and worries that existed prior to that moment of connection. It was something done out of love, connection, and simplicity. 

I too, when home from college and later home from New York, would walk into her room, baked goods in hand and we would sit, savoring each bite. It didn’t erase my grandmother’s dementia, but it did allow us to be grandmother and granddaughter, almost transcending dementia for an hour or two. It was through sharing the food that both of us enjoyed that we were able to connect and it didn’t matter that she didn’t remember that my grandfather had passed, how old I was, or that she was not going to be returning to her home. What mattered was a shared moment. 

What is your “baked good” that you can share with your loved one this weekend? Food is a powerful and simple connection so don’t be afraid of it. But it doesn’t have to be food. It can be anything that engages the senses and is done together. 

If you have ever thought about not visiting someone living with dementia because of where they are in their diagnosis, even if not acted upon, I want to encourage you to always, ALWAYS go! Visits may be difficult and sad, but always go! Always invite your loved ones into your life. 

We have grown too accustomed to one-way conversations and connection, seeking what we get out of that time and effort. But the reality is in a true relationship, it is both what you receive, and more importantly what you give. In the past two Hot Chocolate Moments, I shared how you can use food and simple joys to engage and “break the ice” during a visit. Today I encourage you to allow yourself to feel all the sadness, all the tension, and all of the worry that might accompany you to each visit and then accept the invitation to find joy and laughter. To discover a new way of being in a relationship with your loved one. To discover new possibilities to love and be loved. 

ALWAYS visit your loved ones! ALWAYS!

What is your greatest fear? Is it death? Is it illness, pain…snakes?  We often avoid what we fear because we are unsure of what we might face, we want to stay in a place of comfort. We hold with a death grip the past and the way it was, knowing that it is no longer our reality. And so, we sidestep, dance around, and avoid entirely that which we fear. In doing so, we are removing ourselves from the possibility of joy, laughter, greater connection, and beautiful moments. Unless we are talking about snakes here, then go ahead and hide, because nope! Those creatures are terrifying.  But for those of us that close the door to connections with our loved ones living with dementia, we are saying no to all the wonderful, awe-filled moments life brings. 

I have witnessed a growing fear of visiting loved ones living with dementia, mental illness, physical health needs, and cancer. In almost every conversation I have, someone is saying they didn’t visit because of fear, sadness, and uncertainty.

If you are afraid to visit your loved one, to face death, to face illness, why? Have you ever taken that to prayer, a conversation with a close friend, or in writing in your diary? If not, I encourage you to do so in the coming weeks. Allow yourself to feel the discomfort of facing what you fear, of uncovering how you can grow through it. Once you put this into practice, document in photos, writing, music, the arts, or simply a list, the many joys, moments of laughter, and beautiful memories you have created because of your saying, “yes” to pushing through that fear. 

We learn from reading books, watching videos, and watching others. We learn through the senses and exploring the world around us, and by diving all into a textbook or instructional manual. The satisfaction we get from overcoming something once foreign or learning a new skill or piece of history brings a unique form of joy into our lives. So, why must this stop once a person has dementia?

It doesn’t have to.

Learning and growth, much against what our teachers taught us in school, are not always indicated by test scores and how fast we can recall a piece of information. This may be true for a time in our life, but throughout our lifespan, learning can be just for the heck of it. We may recall the information, or we may not, but what lingers in importance is the feeling we get from learning something new. Individuals living with dementia are not seeking the same academic and career advancements they might have had at one point in their life, they are looking to continue becoming.

Becoming. I think that word is underused in dementia care. The soul longs to become, even when illness, death, or dementia enters a life. We long to be better versions of ourselves for ourselves, our families, and for the sheer goodness of our humanity.

So, enter into moments of learning with your loved ones, residents, and clients. Simple or complex, retained or not. Do it for the wonder of our dignity and life.

We sometimes feel the need to fill every moment with something, with sounds, actions, and words. This is true in almost every aspect of life, but especially true when we are caring for someone living with dementia. I once worked with someone who unless a resident was sleeping or eating dinner, every moment was filled with something. Routine and a structured calendar are important, but so is the silence, the impromptu moments filled with nothing but the silent company of another.

Some of my favorite moments came from taking a few moments to sit in silence sitting next to someone. We would look out the window, watch the glow from the fireplace, or even people-watching as a performer or staff set up for an event. These moments of pause brought forth stories, connections, and even laughter and awe.

If you need permission to take a few moments to sit in silence with someone you are caring for -even if only for 30 seconds – this is it.