Pause for Peace & Patience

Pause-peace-patience has become something of a mantra lately because I often find myself impatient to solve problems and decide on a direction. However, lately the universe has been reminding me almost constantly that I am not in charge, and factors too numerous to count, affect the outcome of nearly everything.

I arrived at my client Dawn’s memory care facility around 10:00 this morning. I know from having worked in the industry for a number of years that the term facility is not en vogue. The preferable word is community or setting or maybe it’s another word now. But this place feels like a facility. It has a nice ambiance but there is very little for Dawn to do except wander around, nap, or watch TV. No one stops for a conversation or even to say hello. It’s mind-boggling this is the culture of some (not all) memory care communities despite marketing material touting their expertise. 

As soon as I enter the building, I’m greeted by the director, who tells me in an annoyed tone, “She has been blocking the door and trying to leave all morning.”

I feel frustrated by the director’s indifference but also bummed out. Dawn moved in two weeks ago, and we were anticipating “exit seeking” for a variety of reasons but were pleasantly surprised when this didn’t immediately happen.

But now it’s here. My second reaction is to worry that this might ruin everything for her if they’re not interested in taking the time to make this a successful transition. My third reaction is to feel anxious about not being able to help Dawn through this difficult time.

I know this isn’t going to go well if I force my own agenda on Dawn by physically moving her away from the door, or taking off the jacket she’s wearing that doesn’t belong to her. I also decide that returning all the stuff to her room that she has moved into the lobby can wait. I’m getting better at reminding myself to pause, take a breath, and be patient, so I choose to chill out, settle into the moment with Dawn, and see how things go. I know that arguing and persuading will only end in frustration and could possibly escalate to something worse.

Dawn tells me that a friend usually comes to take her out for coffee, and she’s waiting for her. That friend is me. For the past year or so, I have been taking her to her favorite coffee shop, among other things. Dawn no longer accurately remembers this, but obviously, there is something familiar about me and my purpose for coming today. I admit that I’m not here to take her out but ask if it would be okay if I hang out with her while she waits? I suggest that we sit down in the nearby comfy chairs, and luckily, she agrees to move away from the door.

Before I got out of the car and entered Dawn’s world today, I remembered to pause for a few seconds, take a breath, and clear my mind of to-do lists and other thoughts. This helps me prepare for our time together.

Today, after doing this, a fleece blanket that I had in the trunk caught my eye, and I quickly stuffed it into my tote bag. The blanket has pieces of fringe to tie together, and the activity was a big fail when I tried it with Dawn before. Zero interest on her part.

But . . . much to my surprise, for some reason, it held her attention today for over thirty minutes. Maybe the softness of the fabric was comforting, or maybe she has declined cognitively and this is now an interesting activity for her. In any case, I thanked the Universe for nudging me to bring it along today.

We sat in comfy chairs and worked on the blanket (distraction), and as we worked, I waited for my opening. I patiently waited for a moment where Dawn might be receptive to the idea of not leaving the building today. I had no idea if, or when, it would come, but I was hopeful it eventually would. And then, after we had been together for about forty minutes, the opening arrived. It was very subtle, and fortunately, I was calm enough to be able to recognize my cue.

While we worked on the tie blanket, I had asked Dawn a few times if she wanted to take off her jacket while she waited, and she eventually said, “It looks cold out there.”

“Yes, it’s cold and slippery,” I agree. “Have you noticed that there are a lot more people coming in than leaving? It’s so warm and cozy here. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day to go out.”

I have the luxury of knowing Dawn very well and know that she is really into the weather. She checks her phone weather app all the time and overprepares. She brings along an umbrella at the hint of rain, and it took us until June last year to gently convince her to transition from her winter parka to a light sweater. Waterproof shoes are her preferred footwear choice.

I thanked the dementia angels as Dawn agreed with my weather assessment, and that tomorrow may be a better day to leave after all. She also agreed that it would be a good idea to bring her possessions back to her room so they wouldn’t be moved or go missing. And just like that, we were back in her room, where she removed the mystery jacket and used the bathroom. We listened to her favorite music, chatted for a bit, and then headed to the lunch table.

Some may say that I had all the time in the world to spend with Dawn, which is unrealistic in most memory care settings. But, the truth is, I spent much less time with Dawn than the staff who had been trying to move her away from the door for hours.

The thirteenth-century poet Rumi says, “As you start to walk on the way, the way appears.” This arrived in my inbox recently, and the wisdom directly relates to how we can offer support for clients who are experiencing a difficult moment. Arriving with a calm spirit, having as little of an agenda as possible, being patient for what comes next, and having faith that a solution will eventually appear, will pave the way for happier moments.