Many dementia care partners have learned that going with the flow works magic: it can turn potential disasters into gales of laughter with very little effort. All it takes is a little bit of imagination. I stumbled on a perfect real life example shared by care partner Catherine Bixenman-salesi. in the online dementia support group USAgainst Alzheimer’s.
“My teenaged son often corrects his grandmother, and then suffers the consequences. I, on the other hand, let her stories flow. I also enjoy adding flavour to them. This makes her perk up, and turns her from sad to glad. It also gets her talking, and gesturing with her hands. I help piece the sentences together by filling in every other word, and away we go. Last night, she noticed a commode in her bedroom. She pointed at it and in an angry tone said: ‘Not mine!’ It was a perfect opportunity for some fun.
‘Tell that lazy ass woman to take her belongings with her when she goes,’ I said with a scowl on my face. ‘I have enough work to do here without having to clean up after her!’
Mom burst out laughing. What a joyful sound it was. Of course I laughed too. It seems like a silly thing, but to her it was funny. I could have told her it was hers, which it is, and she would have denied it and become hostile. Instead, I went along with her version of reality. The result? Smiles and laughs all around.”
If you have tried going with the flow and have similar stories to share, I’d love to hear them.
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I’ve shared parts of this story before. It’s an afternoon in October 2015. Mom appears to be asleep in the recliner when I arrive at the LTCF to visit. I lean over and put my hands on either side of the chair. My face is about arms length from hers.
“Patti?” I say to check if she’s really sleeping or just resting. When she opens her eyes, I know immediately she’s unhappy. I also know exactly what to do to minimize the likelihood of things deteriorating further. In the space of about an hour and a half, I created conditions under which Mom and I could move from bad to good instead of from bad to worse. There’s nothing magic about what I did, anyone can do it.
I thought it might help others to be able to hear our real-life conversation and the transformation we effected together. The five-minute audio below is divided into three segments. The first one is when I arrive to visit Mom; the second is about an hour later when her mood is shifting; and in the last segment we’ve gone all the way from sad to glad.
From sad to glad: an example of BANGS in action
Click here to listen (I highly recommend listening while reading to fully “get it”):
Read here:
Susan: We were both talking about nothing
Mom: Well that’s stupid.
Susan: That was stupid. (laughs) That was stupid, Mom.
(Susan turns down the loud music, which may have been contributing to Mom’s angry demeanour)
Susan: Pardon me?
Mom: You don’t lalalalala look stupid things.
Susan: I’m a silly Billy eh mom?
Mom: Yeah, and you’re stupid.
Susan: Am I? What have you got on your face here? It’s cake. (laughs) I’m happy to see you.
Mom: Well I’m not happy to see you.
Susan: No?
Mom: No. I’m not happy at all.
Susan: Are you mad at me?
Mom: Yeah, I am mad at you. Very mad.
Susan: Are you?
Mom: Yeah.
Susan: What have done?
Mom: Well it’s stupid.
Susan: I did a stupid thing?
Mom: Yeah.
Susan: Oh. Sorry about that.
Mom: Yeah, well it is stupid.
Susan: I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. Is there anything I can do to fix it?
Mom: Well no, there’s nothing I can do to fix it. (Mom starts to “tap” Susan quite hard)
Susan: Oh god, you just whacked me. (The taps get lighter) Are those love taps or mad taps?
Mom: Mad taps.
Susan: Okay. Well at least they’re not very hard.
Mom: What do you mean hard?
Susan: Oh my goodness.
Mom: That’s awful thing to do.
Susan: I don’t know what I did, but whatever it is, I’m sorry I did it.
Mom: Well why did you do whatever stupid it was?
Susan: I don’t know. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.
Mom: Well, it’s sort of stupid that you didn’t –
Susan: I know I admit it. I admit it. I was stupid. I know. I don’t know why I did it Mom. It was a mistake. Is there anything I can do to fix it?
Mom: No!
Susan: Oh. Okay. Because if there was something, I would do it.
Mom: Yeah.
Susan: Yeah that’s what happened. Sorry about that. But maybe it’ll fade over time.
Mom: Well I don’t think so.
Susan: No? Okay. Is it okay if I sit here with you for awhile? How about if we do your nails?
Mom: Well, the nails are beautiful.
Susan: Well, they could be redone I think. Shall I redo them for you?
Mom: Na na na na no I don’t want to.
(About an hour later:)
Susan: Those are nice taps.
Mom: Yeah.
Susan: Are those love taps?
Mom: Yeah, they are nice taps.
Susan: Before you were giving me mad taps. You were mad at me before Mom.
Mom: Mad at you when?
Susan: About an hour ago.
Mom: Oh well, so what.
Susan: (laughs) That’s what I said Mom – so what? It’s okay. You have a right to be mad when you wanna, Mom.
Mom: Yeah, I guess I better.
Susan: Yeah. Life is short. Do what you want.
Mom: Yeah.
Susan: Eh?
Mom: I guess.
Susan: Yep. That’s right.
(About another half hour later:)
Susan: And then we sang “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb…
Together: it’s fleece was white as snow…etc.
Susan: I like that nursery rhyme, it’s cute.
Mom: Well, it was a nice story.
Susan: Yeah it was a nice story, Mom. How about baa, baa..
Together: Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool…
This approach worked wonders for me on many occasions. That’s not to say it always worked, because, just as we all do, Mom had days when she was just plain unhappy — who wouldn’t have been in her circumstances? No one is happy all the time — or at least no one I know, including myself! The point is, this way of engaging someone living with dementia has a much better chance of working than arguing, correcting, and dismissing. Try it and see for yourself.
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I knew less than zero about dementia care when I returned to Canada from Dubai in 2011 to care for my mom who lived with dementia of the Alzheimer’s type. I learned a lot in a short time; I learned even more in the five years leading up to her death on August 17, 2016, and I’m STILL learning.
One of the most challenging aspects of care partnering is creating and maintaining a positive relationship between care partners – the one living with dementia and the one (or several) who help him or her to navigate living with the disease. Things can get tense and stressful and sometimes they spiral out of control.
Based on my personal experience with my mom, I developed a model to help myself and others minimize anger and aggression and thus reduce stress. I call it BANGS, which is a mnemonic for ways to defuse conflict with people who are in the early, mid and even later stages of dementia of the Alzheimer’s type.
The one-hour webinar below, which was made during a live online event in spring 2015 when Mom was still alive, explains the BANGS model using personal stories and examples. It show what kinds of things may spark aggression in someone who lives with dementia of the Alzheimer type, and what care partners can do to avert it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
These five links will take you to short excerpts from the video; they home in on each of the five techniques with one to three minute clips and short examples:
I hope you enjoy the webinar, which I invite you to share with colleagues, care partners, care workers and/or to use as a training tool. I also deliver interactive half-day, full-day and two-day workshops on the BANGS(TM) model. Contact me here. And if you want BANGS cards like the ones in the video, contact me here.
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It’s an afternoon in October 2015. Mom appears to be asleep in the recliner. I lean over and put my hands on either side of the chair. My face is about arms length from hers.
“Patti?” I say to check if she’s really sleeping or just resting.
When she opens her eyes, I know immediately things won’t be easy today. But I have a proven five-pronged strategy to help: BANGS.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BANGS is a mnemonic for ways to defuse conflict with people like Mom who live with Alzheimer’s / dementia.
“Wa wa wa wh what are you talking about?” Mom says before I have a chance to say anything at all.
“I was talking about nothing,” I say agreeably.
“I didn’t think you were talking about nothing because I was talking about nothing,” she says, sharp.
“We were both talking about nothing,” I chuckle.
“Well that’s stupid!” She spits at me, face taut, eyes blazing.
“It was stupid, Mom,” I laugh again. I’m delighted she’s awake, which she mostly is not when I come to visit. “I’m a silly billy eh Mom? What’s that on your face Mom? It looks like cake.” I smile. She glares back. “I’m happy to see you Mom,” I say.
“Well I’m not happy to see you.” Mom’s face is a storm cloud.
“You’re not?”
“No. You’re stupid.”
“Are you mad at me Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“What have I done?”
“Well, it’s stupid.” I have no idea what stupid thing she might be talking about, or what she believes I have done, but I know what to do.
“I did a stupid thing?” I say.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry Mom. Is there anything I can do to fix it?”
“No. You can’t fix it.”
“I’m sorry Mom.” I genuinely AM sorry. I really wish I could fix it. In no way am I pretending or fibbing. She lifts her right hand hand and starts tapping my cheek like she does when she gives me “love taps,” but harder. It stings ever so slightly, but doesn’t hurt at all. It’s a more intense version of the love taps she adores giving. She is a wheelchair-bound 87-year-old woman living with dementia. She can’t hurt me.
“Sorry. Sorry. What difference does that make? It was stupid,” she says as she keeps “slapping/tapping” me.
“I know Mom. I’m sorry. Are these love taps or mad taps?”
“Mad taps. Mad taps.” She taps faster, grits her teeth. I don’t care that she’s tapping/slapping me; it helps release whatever is bothering her. No harm done. Once she gets up, out of the recliner, and rolling in the wheelchair, her mood gradually improves. Mom loves to be on the go. It takes about 45 minutes and a whole lot more ‘I’m sorry’s’ to get rid of the crankiness, but that’s okay with me, we all have bad days – why should she be any different? The thing about “I’m sorry” is that it’s hard for anyone, even someone with dementia, to stay angry at somebody who keeps apologizing.
Before I lived with and cared for someone with dementia, she and I had both lived alone – I for six years and she for about 20.
All of a sudden we were together in close quarters: two fiercely independent women each of whom had run her own business for several decades, each with a mind of her own, each accustomed to doing what she wanted when she wanted and not having to accommodate anyone but herself, each very much her own person.
Plus, one of us had a brain disease about which the other new little.
It was a miracle we didn’t kill each other. But we didn’t. We found a way to get out of conflict and on to safer ground. It wasn’t easy, and I hope the tips below will help you to do the same…
BANGS is an acronym for five ways I wish I hadn’t had to learn from experience about how to defuse conflict with people who live with Alzheimer’s / dementia.
In the bangs webinar I talked about “G” standing for two things:
go with their flow,
let go of your ego
1) Go with their flow
Most of us are accustomed to doing things according to schedule(s). We have agendas, literal, figurative, and physical.
We create lists of things to do and time frames within which we must do them. Alzheimer’s/dementia taught me that agendas, schedules and lists are artificial. We create them and we think we need to stick to them when in reality we don’t.
The quickest way to conflict with a person with dementia (PWD) is to try to force them to fit your agenda. In fact, if you think about it, mostly everybody wants to do what they want, not what others want them to do. Why would PWD be any different?
Conversely, the easiest way to create peace and harmony is to let go of your agenda and let the PWD run with theirs, however strange and uncomfortable it may seem to you.
2) Let go of your ego
Tough. Extremely tough to do — especially for family members. Your loved one with dementia might say horrible and hurtful things to you. Not out of malice, but because their brain isn’t functioning properly.
For example, parents with dementia often vehemently tell their children they don’t have children. Some call their children stupid or idiots or worse. they may say you are mean to them or abusive. They may chastise you for not calling when you live in the same house 24 seven and have done for years! That’s the disease talking. They may be be mean to when you try to help Them. They may chastise you for all kinds of things you may or may not have done.
Rather than allow yourself to be devastated, try choosing something different. Learn to let go of your ego, and to not be hurt by their hurtful words. It makes things easier. Not easy. Easier. Every little bit counts.
Besides everything else I talked about in the webinar, here are three “bonus” ideas to add to the “G” in BANGS: get over it, get on with it and get down to it.
3) Get over it
This is an extension of letting go of your ego: when you let go, let go completely. Don’t harbour any resentment. Don’t seek revenge for the way you may have been treated. Don’t bully. Get over it. If you don’t get this one, The Eagles explain it more fully here.
This is a hard pill to swallow when you feel like the wounded party, but believe me, it works.
4) Get on with it
Self explanatory I think: keep going. Don’t let the disease get the best of you.
5) Get down to it
By this I mean get down physically so you are at or below eye level of the person with dementia.
Let them have the power position above you to make communication easier and less threatening. This works a treat.
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My Alzheimer's Story 