Another camp trip
Recovering from
pneumonia and being in the nursing home
Hot chocolate on a warm night is a prescription for smiles
It’s hard to imagine what life
is like for someone with dementia, yet if life is to be lived in a way
that is hopeful, we, the caregiver's, must in someway provide a vehicle
for hope that ignites a desire for tomorrow. In that desire a hunger is
born that is capable of retrieving a memory where joy once reigned. It
was in that spirit my partner and I took our first steps toward taking
away the darkness of a disease that seemed to limit choices to wheelchairs,
hospital beds, or when called for a special care unit for the elderly.
Welcome to
spring in eastern Washington and the first camping trip of the year in
this new millennium. The winter of 2000-2001 was long and cold and
presented a challenge when keeping Berniece focused on her goal, camping.
It would be hard to count the times we asked the "focus" question, "Where
are we going this spring, Berniece?" Wondering if the reply would
be a blank stare or "I'm cold" the question more often sparked a memory
and a smile. Even though the words "Sun Lake's" were sometimes hard to
find we would hear again about the new sleeping bag that arrived from Santa
Claus or the big stove or big tent. Seeing the smile slowly curl at the
edges of her lips, the spark of recognition twinkle from her eyes always
caused us to have a huge sigh of relief knowing that for that time B wasn't
ready to go "home". There was a quality of life that still offered her
hope and joy.
The memories of our first summer at the park had firmly seeded itself in B's mind. Unable to remember who we were, I remained Fred and my partner took on multiple personas being whomever B needed her to be. Our house might be in Washington one day and Oregon or Montana the next, but the park remained the park and that place by the lake was where we bought Mocha Brevé with whipped cream.
Memories of the rocky start of 2000 had faded in the sun of summer for B. The memory for us it remained vivid, the bout with pneumonia and the near loss of B that April remained the driving force behind the camping trips that followed. The fact that B required total care was hard work, but the rewards out weighed the exhaustion of having what we lovingly referred to as the only mobile eldercare unit around. Sun Lake's Special Care Facility was born.
Armed with tanks of oxygen, generous amounts of blankets, food of all varieties
and most everything we could pack on the utility trailer we set out on
many weekend adventures. Most mornings as the sun warmed the air the smell
of coffee filled the tarped kitchen enclosure followed by the sizzle of
grilled toast, ham, hashbrowns and scrambled eggs. Afternoon would find
us walking to the marina where the concession stand waited with espresso
and ice cream cones. Then back through the campground taking different
lanes as we looked at other camps, asking B's opinion about tents and motor
homes before deciding that we really liked our camp best. After our walks
it was time for B to take her nap.
Rested and ready for dinner we all sat and watch as the quail pecked their way over the hill and through the grass moving ever closer to our camp. Never wanting to share center stage with the quail the young robins, now the size of an adult yet not in full adult color, hopped about camp waiting for their parents to bring them their food. Sitting on a near by tree limb were a gang of camp robbing cowbirds ever ready to fly in behind us and steal bread that was unattended. One very bold cowbird even tried to help itself to B's toast, which B soundly scolded.