A Caregiver’s Checklist

This is an actual document created by the Alzheimer’s Association. I received it at the support group meeting last night, which, by the way, was very worthwhile. Upon returning home my husband and I were looking at the materials that were handed out and I started reading this checklist out loud. While there is nothing funny about this situation I have to embrace humor where I find it and the checklist was just oozing with hilarity.

1. 1) Be sure you have an accurate diagnosis. Be sure you have a patient who thinks they have something to diagnose!
2. Find a physician who is familiar with Alzheimer’s disease. Once we can follow through with #1, we will indeed find the right flavored doc.
3. Plan a family meeting. I am my mom’s only child. My husband is my support. He looked at me and asked, “When are we not having a family meeting?” 
4. Work out financial and legal issues. This is serious stuff and is done. Thank goodness.
5. Include the person with Alzheimer’s disease in the decision-making process. This is referring to #4 should the patient be able to participate.
6. Consider and monitor safety issues. God forgive me but this is where I started laughing the most. It talks about driving, power tools and the like. Earlier in the year my mom asked us if we had a hatchet, ax or cruising ax she could borrow. “Nope, we don’t.” Yes, we own those tools in spades but not for her to borrow. The first thing she did upon returning to the Island property was dig these items out of dad’s barn and do her damnedest to chop off her thumb. I’ve arranged for urgent repairs to her houses, removed three guns (still looking for the rifle though), taken chemicals away that she doesn’t know she has/what they’re for or will never miss (this is where memory loss can be a gift), I drive everywhere when we are together, have two law enforcement agencies looking out for her safety… It never ends.
7. Provide an ID bracelet or tag. Mom gets lost all the time driving around her mainland home neighborhood but, so far, walks competently from her house to ours and back. Other than her late October, midnight, 10-acre search for my father (fueled by an unknown mix and quantity of Ambien and wine), she doesn’t wander. All of her ascorbic anger and paranoia would froth to the surface should anyone suggest she wear an ID tag. I can hear her, “What am I, a cat?” My husband dryly suggested a chip implant. One day this technology will be embraced for humans, but not yet and not by my mom ;->.
8. Seek out support services. This is in reference for the patient. We aren’t there yet but the minute mom has to give up driving we will be. It won’t be long.
9. Focus on the needs of the primary caregiver. Um, yes. That’s what, in part, this list is all about. And I know we all, as loved one’s in this role, have different needs. Those around us, who support us, need to honor us as individuals. One size does not fit all. Not our family member who is ailing nor us. I need to play backgammon, read, write and garden in order to decompress. You, dear reader, likely need to do something completely different. Get on it!

Understand, I’m not dissing the list. I’m indulging in the humor it brought out in the moment I read it. Humor is the best of medicine. Bring it on!