Supper in the Bathroom

While using most of the funds from donations we received for purchasing a pedicab, a very small amount was used to acquire a bathtub stool, a very low budget alternative to the walk-in tub. I won’t say the stool makes getting Cindy in and out of the shower any easier, but it is a little safer. Plus this week I stumbled upon a side benefit.

We were waiting for someone to drop by in the afternoon, but as time went by and supper approach decisions had to be made. Cindy would need to eat, but now she likely would need the bathroom soon as well. I got up to zap some supper then came back to get Cindy off the couch to eat.

As soon as I did that the floodgates opened. Immediately we proceeded upstairs to the bathroom. I sat her down on the toilet and took care of her immediate clean-up needs. Then I went back downstairs to get the swiffer mop, working my way from the couch back up to the top of the stairs. Then I took care of Cindy further, putting clothes in the hamper and getting out new clothes for after we took a shower. Then I went back downstairs again to get supper that had been heated.

When I came back up to the bathroom one last time, there was Cindy still on the toilet, only the top half of her dressed. Leaving her there while I took care of what needed to be done was not the ideal situation for her, but I knew her mood depended on what I did next. As I’ve mentioned often on this blog, people with dementia can perceive and understand much more than we realize, yet it’s also true that their minds adapt to the situation they are in. I knew it was up to me to determine how Cindy would adapt to this incident.

I grabbed the stool out of the tub and sat down across from Cindy with our plate of food in hand. I fed her much like we would if we were eating out on the porch or on the couch. I chuckled a bit and said in a jovial voice: “I bet not many people have supper in the bathroom.”

Cindy laughed, crisis averted. I added for good measure: “You know? We’re trend setters, Mom!” She smiled and concurred with: “Mmmmm. Yeah.” This was just us, Cindy and me, being untraditional as we have been in so many ways together.

After we finished supper I put the dirty dish away and the stool back into the tub. I undressed Cindy’s top half and we took our shower as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

Bear in mind that how a caregiver reacts largely determines what is tragedy and what is nothing out of the ordinary to the Alzheimer’s mind.