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I was visiting with some new friends recently, most of whom have some idea of the work I do.  One asked if I had worked the previous day, which happened to be a Sunday.  I said, “Yes.  And my friend (with dementia) and I went for three walks, and for a drive in the mountains, and out for lunch, and out for a mid-afternoon smoothie, and out to feed goats and chickens, and we visited, and we enjoyed our day.”  

Another woman next to me said, “Oh, so you get paid to have fun with people.”  I smiled and said, “well, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes.”  

I have pondered her statement, apparently an attempt to summarize the work I do.  And I am really proud that she would put the notion of “fun” and “dementia” into the same sentence.  What a testament to the skillful, personalized work my team and I do that an outsider would perceive our time with our companions with dementia as “getting paid to have fun with people.”

The other side of this conversation, however, must include the truth that dementia-specialist care is not easy.  It is meaningful, it is special, it is an honor to bring this kind of care to folks living with dementia and their families, and it is not easy.

You see, in every moment of our time with our companions with dementia, we are keenly aware of their mood, their words, their actions, the environment, people around us, whether or not they have had enough to eat or drink that day, whether or not they have used the bathroom if we might be able to connect them with a beloved family member or friend through FaceTime if we might be headed into a social situation where we need to be ready to step in front of the situation so that our companion does not experience social failure.  We are aware of how their caregivers are doing, and what we can and should do to support them.  We are mindful of how to bring up their favorite stories, and which stories bring them the most joy.  We are anticipating fall risk hazards as we walk about in the community.  We know that we need to be ready to make eye contact and smile big with a person in the public who is surprised when our companion reaches out to touch their arm.  We are estimating how much longer we should be driving in the mountains before our companion gets ready to be home.  We are coming up with strategies for how to get them out of their homes for a lovely outing when they do not have the ability to anticipate how much they will enjoy the outing.  And so much more.

Needless to say, when we go home, we are weary from a good day of special work.  Oh, yes, and often, our days go entirely differently than we had planned (this is dementia after all), and, well, we just deal with those situations as they arise.

Getting paid to have fun with people with dementia?  I will take that as a compliment, and a sign of hope that maybe the world is getting more ready to understand dementia.  Regardless, my team and I will continue doing the special, personalized work of making the world an okay place for our companions living with dementia.

Proud of what we do,

Jill

©Jill Couch