Going Home
The streets of “home” hold an amazing importance in our brains. I recall when Hubby and I moved from Los Angeles to London; I was so excited to be walking up and down the streets of such a grand city. Hubby used to say that he knew every nook and cranny of London. Growing up there held so many experiences and connections.
It is such a shame that Hubby, at age 94, will probably never board an airline to London again. We loved having a home there near family and culture and near the rest of Europe. The last time we went to London it was exhausting for him to walk even a couple of blocks and he spent most of his time in our hotel room. I would pop out to do a bit of shopping, and pray that I would find him in our room when I returned. It was an enormous risk, and a constant stress to be considered.
Speaking with a friend about his father’s advancing Dementia, he shared something very special with me. His father was brought up between Paris and Manhattan. The family went online to You Tube and found walking tours of both cities, seated their dad in his favorite chair, with a laptop and the video of the streets he loved and remembered. The joy he expressed and his fascination with the experience was profound for them all. I could not wait to try it for Hubby.
There are many walking tour videos of Hubby’s city of birth, London. Some have a tour guide and some are simply filmed as if you yourself were walking to Buckingham Palace, through the East end, or to points of interest. Hubby was mesmerized by this experience. I kept asking if he was enjoying it, and his response: “Are you kidding? This was my life!” The first day the walking tour included a guide and historical information. The second day it only had the sounds of the street. He loved them both. There is not much which pleases him or occupies his time, but this was beyond wonderful.
Today is the third day of watching the tours. I found a Red Bus tour of London which lasts over an hour. It has no sound, but he is glued to the screen all the same and is loving every moment.
It is quite possible that I could play the same video every day and he would enjoy it just as much. For a man with little patience (and a terribly short attention span), this is quite incredible.
Patients with cognitive decline are often confused about where “home” is. It is for us to try to deduce exactly which home they are referring to. Is it the home of their childhood, a previous house or apartment, or is it actually that they do not recognize their immediate surroundings are actually their own home? In disconcerting moments, their minds may perceive their environment as foreign to them. More than once, while in our home of 35 years, Hubby demanded that I call the concierge of “this establishment” to demand better service! That was the same afternoon that he required a visit to the pool “upstairs” for a quick swim. As there was no pool, concierge, or improved service on offer at “Chez Diamond” It was a difficult situation at best.
Once I would explain that we were actually in our home he would often gaze around the room and be quite amazed that all the furniture, paintings, and items had been duplicated and shipped intact from our previous residence. It was moments like those which simply required a nod of my head in acquiescence. It indeed would have been an accomplishment, had that actually occurred!
It is clear however, that even when the present can be very confusing, the memories of childhood have been stored in an entirely different chamber of the brain. For those with lovely, innocent childhood memories, this is a blessing.
For one woman who panicked every time her van arrived to take her to day-care, for fear to set in, and tears to flow from the terror of this experience, it was something entirely different. Her memories went back to the days of the Holocaust when she feared being separated from her sister and being taken away in an unfamiliar vehicle. It took some time before the staff attending to her, understood how to calm her fears each day. Some pain is so deep and so private, that it is quite impossible for us to recognize its source in another’s experiences.
While Hubby’s childhood home was small and sparse, it was full of Mama’s love and cuddles, so the physical premises was of little importance to him. Children perceive so much through a filter which we adults cannot comprehend. Hubby’s one specific memory of his parent’s home was when his Papa came home one day from work with a large package which did not contain groceries for the weekend. It instead held a crystal chandelier. His mother’s absolute fury at the wasteful expenditure when food was critical, stayed with him always.
The most heartfelt tears in search of home are those of loved ones having been placed in care-homes of one kind or another. Their consistent and haunting pleas to be returned to their real home, is one of the heartbreaking scenes repeated across the globe. Unfortunately, there are many instances when a person with cognitive decline can no longer remain in the home that they treasure. They may be re-situated with a family member in a different residence in order to get the attention and care that they require. The move from their own home with all their memories and possessions, is a trauma for many. Being moved into an institutional setting, is just that much more severe.
The need to make the decision to remove a loved one from their own home is possibly one of the most difficult moments in a family’s caregiving decision-making. From personal experience, I can only hope that whenever at all possible, the elderly and the infirm will be not be torn from their comfort zone. Each situation is complex, and only guidelines are on offer.
Even for those with cognitive decline, “Home Sweet Home” is definitely “where the heart is.”
