My Mom has a first floor room, which helps me in planning for her 94th birthday in May. I am allowed to buy and deliver a cake, which will be a frozen and thawed Pepperidge Farm coconut cake, one of her faves. Flowers, too. I just have to wipe down the cake packaging and the vase with Chlorox wipes and place both items outside the front door of Yoder House. Additionally, I will refresh the thistle socks on the bird feeder poles outside Mom's first floor bedroom window, where I can also wave hello and possibly even attempt some conversation if they are willing to crack the window a bit.
Reaching age ninety-four is significant to Mom because it is the age she believes her mother lived to, so it has been a goal of hers to get to ninety-four. The fact that Grammie Moyer lived to ninety-six is irrelevant, here. I have long-since learned that with dementia, you don't correct or haggle. You go with whatever line of thought the patient has in order to keep the conversation going as long as possible. Interaction is the goal. Repetition happens. Nonsensical turns from topic to topic are expected. Being there in person is key.
As hard as it's been to not visit in person for the past six weeks, I feel good about Mom's accommodations and her caregivers. She's in a good situation, all options being what they are. Frequent communications from the Vice President of Supportive Living indicate that not a single resident of the community has contracted Covid-19. A kitchen staff member in Assisted Living tested positive several weeks ago, but quarantine along with the identification and subsequent quarantine of those in contact with that individual has contained the spread. A rehab patient who is not a regular resident of the retirement community arrived from the hospital with Covid-19, but like my Aunt Mary the situation is under control and proper measures are being taken for the entire length of that patient's stay. So I am feeling somewhat encouraged, for today.
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