The Happy (Alzheimer's) Wanderer
Submitted by mlichter on 2008, March 18 - 12:02.
I had my first "Happy Wanderer" moment this past weekend. I went to visit my mother at her apartment, where she lives with a 24/7 aide. I brought the week's groceries, set up the week's meds, paid the week's bills and entertained my mom with our weekly games of Scrabble.
Scrabble is one of those tools I use to measure the progression of my mom's Alzheimer's. She used to be an ace player, searching out the extra-point squares on which to place the high-value letters or placing letters in such a way that multiple words are formed so that letters' points are counted multiple times. It wasn't unusual for her to score 300 or more points per game.
Now, her memory of "Scrabble words" (those interesting letter combinations you'd have never thought were words until you were forced to look them up in the dictionary as you challenge your opponent's vocabulary) is vastly diminished. Her strategy is weakened. And her drive to seek out the best place to put a word and her ability to form words is certainly lessened. Our games are less competitive than they once were, with my occasionally being allowed (even asked) to offer assistance in finding letter combinations within her seven-letter hand just to keep the game going and to reduce her frustration.
The games now serve four purposes: to entertain, to provide mental exercise in a pleasurable setting, to gauge her regression and to spur conversation of past and present events. Since Scrabble was always such an enjoyable pastime for her, it keeps her relaxed, which encourages her thoughts. And sometimes, when just the right word is used (on purpose by me or otherwise by her), it can produce a memory or talking point.
But when Sunday's round of Scrabble came to a close and I started to prepare to leave, my mother's aide asked to speak with me. She is good about keeping me up to date as to goings on within the apartment and my mother's behavior, both normal and not so. This week she explained that my mom had started a new behavior—wandering.
It was five a.m. the previous day when my mother's aide saw Mom exit her own bedroom, fully dressed. Mom started heading for the door that leads to the outside hallway when her aide asked where she was going.
"I'm going home," Mom replied. "There's a cab waiting for me downstairs."
"It's five in the morning," her aide answered. "And it's raining. Why would you be going anywhere now?" Mom's aide explained to me that she didn't want to confuse my mother by telling Mom she already was home.
My mother, I was told, became agitated and aggressive, insisting that she had to catch her cab and go home. Her aide calmly repeated that it was five in the morning, dark and raining. Then she suggested that she call the cabdriver (who, of course, was not there) and request that he come back later and on a nicer day. Mom agreed to the plan, her aide faked the call to the cabbie, and all reverted to normal—for now.
Wandering is not an uncommon condition associated with Alzheimer's. It is, however, an indicator that all things change—sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. This would be an example of worse. And after our aide's follow-up tale of how my mom, when agitated another time, locked herself in her bedroom, I said that changes would be forthcoming. The doorknobs with locks would be replaced with unlockable knobs when I returned the following Sunday. And, if necessary, we would put a bell on the front door so that our aide would be awakened should there be a future middle-of-the-night wandering episode.
The upshot, however, is that all these things have my mind wandering in many directions. What's the next step? How long will Mom be able to stay in her own home? Are her drugs actually working, and just what should I expect from them?
I wonder.