One of the easiest and best practices that you can do for a loved one who is living with dementia is to maintain a routine. A regimented schedule for the day and the week may be boring for you, but it is reassuring to your loved one. There is comfort in the routine.
I suspect that all of us like at least a little routine to our lives.
Both Harvey and I relished our routines, before his diagnosis, and maybe even more so as his dementia progressed. It was something we could both count on in a time when we couldn’t count on much. We had a fairly set rhythm to our day and to our week, before the diagnosis and after, but it became more ingrained and important as the disease progressed. Of course, the comfortable routine could, and would, often get disrupted by unforeseen dementia glitches and set backs, throwing us both off balance.
One of our favorite rituals was Saturday morning coffee. “Our” coffee shop was a ten minute drive from our house, and we would arrive at about 7:00 AM to be greeted by the owner and the barista, who immediately began to create what he knew to be our preferred liquid indulgences. This coffee shop was also a small book store, and I would chat books with the owner while our drinks were being prepared. Members of the community dropped in and out.
This simple Saturday morning ritual served to make us feel part of a community as well as giving us both a break from the house and each other.
An added benefit was that I could monitor Harvey’s driving skills. This was when I first noted that he was having difficulty with navigation, asking where to turn, even though we had been going to this coffee shop for years.
Another treasured ritual was Friday night dinners out. Starting when we were family medicine interns in Charleston, South Carolina, Harvey and I relished the chance to discover new foods and catch up with each other. We really cherished these weekly “date nights” when our daughters were young.
Friday date nights continued after Harvey’s diagnosis for most of the time he was able to live at home. The specifics changed, but the ritual of going out to eat was important, probably only to me by the end of this time. Dining out gave me the chance to monitor his dementia, too, as I noticed his ability to calculate a tip disappear, then his ability to comprehend a menu. I necessarily took over these aspects. As time went on, I ordered for him, choosing finger foods that were easier to handle.
I altered the routine, occasionally, by inviting another couple to join us. It was a chance for us both to be socially engaged with others, instead of being isolated with only each other, and it gave our friends the chance to see how Harvey was managing and that it wasn’t all doom and gloom in our world.
So, if you and your loved one don’t yet have a routine, try to start one, or add a new one, or solidify an existing one. You’ve probably, and necessarily, have developed some of your own anyway. And like me, I imagine that these routines are a comfort as well as an opportunity to asses how your loved one is doing.