I Think About Those Days Wistfully
Knowledgeable caregivers who are responsible for folks with dementia know that many daily living tasks the rest of us think of as easy and rote are overwhelming and confusing to them. Such tasks include but are not limited to toothbrushing or dressing or any daily living activity having component parts to it.
I totally relate to this even though I think my mind is fit as a fiddle (and what makes fiddles fit, anyway?) If I don’t pay good attention while brushing my teeth, I end up brushing certain areas of my mouth more than once, and I have to remind myself that tooth brushing has not as yet been classified as an Olympic marathon activity!
Bearing that in mind, with Mom, I tried to perform those portions of the toothbrushing routine that did not include the actual toothbrushing, but that were steps in the process that had to be performed by someone, and it worked well. for us. I will now share my technique with the reader. However, I give a caveat: pause here, if you are eating.
Mom would sit on her bed and I’d bring in her toothbrush with the toothpaste already on it. I also brought in a 3/4 full cup of clean water. When Mom finished brushing her teeth, she’d drink a sip of water and slosh it around in her mouth. Then she’d spit that water back into the cup. As she only took one sip, she wasn’t ever drinking dirty water. (Or at least that’s what I’m remembering!)
In her nineties—Mom lived to be ninety-five—Mom was at a stage where although her cognitive abilities and judgment were still pretty good, body-wise, she wasn’t as hardy as she’d been when she was in her early to mid-eighties. By day’s end, she was extremely fatigued, and I didn’t want Mom shlepping into the bathroom by herself and possibly falling. I also didn’t want to make her stand any more than she’d already stood that day.
Looking back on it, I think about those days wistfully. Mom needed me, and I feel good that I devised a routine that worked for us each night for quite a long time. That Mom died with all of her own teeth at age ninety-five is an impressive achievement, I think. But in hindsight, the better way would have been for me to have brought her a second, empty cup so that she could spit the toothbrush water into that cup and if she wanted, she could then continue drinking from the first cup but oh well!! And if you adopt my routine, just don’t plan on finding it listed as an approved etiquette technique anywhere!