Saturday, September 1, 2007
...the result of good vibes therapy.
My Jeanne has had good days for several months, I wrote in my journal in 2004. Every day is a good day. Compared to where Jeanne was at a year ago. The most dramatic improvements came after two seizures eight days apart. No seizures since then. Some people may say it’s a miracle. Oh, Jeanne isn’t cured. She’s still dementia-afflicted. Quite obviously. But she’s more her real self. Sweet. Polite. Not belligerent. Not agitated. She knows me. Calls me sweetheart and honey. A year ago she wasn’t herself. But hey, I’ve worked with Jeanne. Diligently. Relentlessly. Day in and day out. I’ve immersed Jeanne in good vibes. Never an angry word. I speak softly. Kindly. I profess my love. With words. We go on wheelchair treks daily. Typically, 10 miles. So Jeanne gets fresh air. And motion. She sees other people. Activity. Outdoors. Indoors. I play soothing music. I hand feed Jeanne. Lunch. Supper. I bring her home for a few hours. Every week. Sometimes, I lift her into the car and take her with me, shopping. I put her on the toilet, and sit with her, ‘til she has a BM. Naturally. No more suppositories or enemas. I talk to Jeanne. In simple sentences. Simple words. I remind her daily to not forget one thing. That I love her. Very much. More than ever. I tuck her in bed at night. And smother her with goodnight kisses. Yes, some folks tell me Jeanne’s improved condition is a miracle. That Alzheimer’s patients aren’t supposed to get better. Well, I think the afflicted deteriorate when they are immersed in negative vibes. When they don’t get adequate attention. When they are warehoused. When they don’t get fresh air. When they are left alone. Maybe in front of a TV set. When they don’t get visitors. But give them special attention. Give them love. Give them physical stimulation. And give them immense amounts of mental stimulation. Not just token amounts. I mean daily. Without miss. And you’ll see more and more Alzheimer patients get better. Dramatically better in some instances. I work with others at Birchwood (the nursing home). Not just with Jeanne. And some of those I work with get better. I can give example after example. And hey, it's time to understand this stuff ain’t miraculous. It’s the result of good vibes therapy. –Jim Brioede
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2 comments:
Jim---It must feel good to be able to write about ‘Good Vibes Therapy’...When you posted about it on our forum, your thoughts were often ridiculed or people attempted to drown them out. Another poster kept bringing up a concept called ‘Validation Therapy’. It, too, sounds good and has to some degree been researched. One interesting fact that I encountered while checking out the research is that Validation Therapy did not seem to appear to slow down placement.
I may be wrong...but...‘Validation Therapy’ appears to be a kind form of distraction...A way of dealing with a current issue (like wanting to go home) in a considerate, humane manner. People attempting to use ‘Validation Therapy’ are taxed only as long as the current issue is unresolved.
‘Good Vibes Therapy’ seems to focus on bringing about positive, more lasting changes in the behavior of loved ones...People using ‘Good Vibes Therapy’ must constantly expend effort during the periods that they are with their loved one. During the time that Jeanne was at Birchwood, both of you were together for 8 to 10 hours a day every day. There had to be nights when you were tired or discouraged and it felt good to be able to go home and let your guard down. To me almost seems as if ‘Good Vibes Therapy’ may require that placement has already been made.
You said “some of those I work with get better”. When working with others what type of improvements have you seen? What do you think the minimum amount of time would be required before improvement takes place?
Cherie:
I remember Frank. He came to Birchwood, the nursing home, on Dec. 23, 2003. About a month after Jeanne. Frank had a stroke. That caused the dementia. Also, Frank fell at the nursing home. Broke a hip. Frank lived in the memory care unit, down the hall from Jeanne. And he hadn’t been home even once since his arrival. Frank wanted to go home so desperately. But his wife and daughter didn’t think that would be a good idea. “He’d want to stay home,” his wife said. “We’d have great difficulty getting him back to the nursing home.” Frank went through periods of deep depression. He lamented. He said he wouldn’t give anyone trouble. “I’d come back without a fight,” he promised. “I just want to go home for a few hours.” I was on Frank’s side. His advocate. I kept trying to persuade Frank’s wife to take him home. For just a little while. His wife was a very nice woman. She visited almost daily. Missed only three times, I think. But she steadfastly resisted bringing Frank home again. It was only 10 miles away. Frank was wheelchair-bound. I offered to assist. To help move Frank. To bring him home for a few precious hours. I thought it was worth the risk. I said, “Let’s see if it works. If it doesn’t, we won’t do it again. If it helps Frank’s morale, then maybe we can do it again and again and again.” Some days, Frank became so depressed that he cried. “I want to go home,” he said. "Please, please take me home." In the evening, I routinely wheeled Frank up and down the hallway. To try to lift his spirits. A little. To relax him. Maybe he was pretending that he was on a ride home. We talked. And maybe Frank dreamed each night. Of being home. I told Frank so often that we’d work on it. Together. I thought his wife was starting to budge. A little. But Frank died. Too soon. Hopefully, his spirit made it home. –Jim Broede
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