Coach Broyles' Playbook

Diane mentioned Mom’s difficulty with language in her last article. Communication is getting more difficult for her every time we are with her. Yes, she has alert times when she remembers quite a bit. However, the actual calling up of the right word she needs is difficult as well as frustrating for her.

Recently a friend handed me a book to read entitled Coach Broyles’ Playbook for Alzheimer’s Caregivers. It is a “practical tips guide” written by the University of Arkansas Athletic Director Frank Broyles whose wife suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease.

In discussing how communication changes in the Middle Stage of the disease, he offers several tips for the caregiver. He states,

You may have seen that she does not talk like she used to. She is having more trouble finding words. Her sentences are short and choppy. The loudness of her voice may have changed. Her words may not make any sense. This is called “word salad.” As you listen, you know she is trying hard to tell you what she wants. The words just come out wrong.

Communication Tips

• Be patient and calm
• Touch (holding hands) is very important.
• Don’t use baby talk.
• Stop what you are doing. Really listen to what she is trying to say.
• Think about the feelings behind the words she is trying to say.
• Look at what her body is trying to tell you.
• If she looks upset or angry, then ask her if she is.
• Treat her with dignity and respect.
• Say exactly what you want her to do.
• Use ordinary words. Instead of saying “Hop in the bed,” say “Please get in the bed.”
• Turn your questions into answers for her. Instead of “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” say, “The bathroom is right over there. I can walk with you.”

A Few More Suggestions:

• Don’t argue with her. It is easier to agree with her and then do what you had planned anyway.
• Don’t try to reason with her. You will just get angry and she won’t know why. Change what you are talking about to something she likes.
• Don’t correct or fuss at her for getting something wrong. Does it really matter? It will only make her feel bad.
• Don’t say “I just told you that.” Just repeat the answer you have already given to her.
• Don’t ask her to “remember” things that happened in the past. Talk about what you remember happening and how she was a part of it.

You may find as time passes that she will not be able to start a talk with you. She may not ask many questions either. She may sit or walk around the room and say nothing unless you begin talking to her first.

Thank you, Coach Broyles, for sharing wisdom gained from your experience.


For Playbook copies and Alzheimer’s disease information:
www.alz.org
24-hour helpline—800-272-3900 (toll-free)
Playbook on the Web: www.alzheimersplaybook.com

Nan's Turn to Share

How different we all are! Yet we all dearly love the mother who gave us life and has helped us each through tears and years of all kinds of living experiences. Nancy expresses herself today, thoughts and feelings common to us all, but written in her own unique way:

Today I miss Mom! I am here with her, and I don’t want to leave. I keep thinking I can make her smile, even get half a smile. Maybe I’ll see a smile in her eyes. I have her repeat her five daughters’ names according to birth order. With a little help and coaxing, she does it! And I say, “Good job, Mom!”

Later…I wonder if calling our names is like a test to her, or is it a good mental exercise? I hope it's the latter. I want her to speak to me, to interact, to laugh out loud, but I would certainly settle for a smile. I want to do something that she wants to do. But she doesn’t know what that is. I try to guess, but Joyce (one of her caretakers) reminds me that she doesn’t know what she wants to do. So we settle for helping her move from the kitchen table to the recliner. There I can take her shoes off and rub her feet. That must feel good!

If I could curl up in her lap, I would. I need to be close to her. Does she need to be close to me? I wonder. I think she does because when I get near her, she always puckers up and I get to kiss that precious face. And she kisses me back. I thank God. That is my blessing today. I can go home now.

A Happy Visit

My September update is a few days late, but here I am to report on a wonderful time with Mom. She and I had one of the best visits we’ve had in a long time Friday evening (10/2).

When I first arrived, I almost didn’t recognize her, but she knew me. The reason I had to do a double-take was because she looked so different. The beautician had not been there to wash and set her hair. I can’t remember when I have seen Mom without her hair fixed. But there she sat—with her hair brushed flat and straight. Her smile of recognition when she saw me calmed me down immensely. I was so happy to see her and happy that she was pleased with me being there that I forgot about the hair.

No, in the past Mom would not have been seen in that condition, but now is now. Things that matter now are: being recognized, seeing her roll her eyes at what one of the women says, and having her ask, “How’d you find me here?” And always that sweet smile when she responds to one of us with, “I love you, too.”

As we walked to her bedroom to have some relief from the volume of the ever-present television set, she seemed genuinely glad to see me. She appeared to have more strength in her legs than the week before. Perhaps she’s better because of something the doctor prescribed for her edema. (For a couple of weeks her feet and hands were very swollen.) We spent some time going through a photo album Pop had brought to her. Many of the people neither of us knew. Yet every time there was a member of her family, she would stop and look closely at the picture. She was calling the names of almost all the children, the grands, and the in-laws. I was amazed, and my heart was warmed by her alertness.

The whole time I was there, I could hardly keep my hands off her. I just wanted to hug and pat and tell her I loved her over and over. When we think about how well and how long she has cared for all of us, I suppose our purpose now is obvious—to love and care for her as much as we can for as long as we can. We love you, Mom. You’re the best!