‘Nothing new’ is good enough. In fact, I’ve decided it’s very good

I greeted Chuck, sitting with his wife who is a resident at Artis where Evelyn lives. He’d been out of town a few days, and he asked me, “What’s new?”

“Nothing, really,” I replied, and he smiled along with Phyllis, another Artis spouse, also in the room.

“Nothing new can be very good,” she reminded me, and I quickly agreed.

That’s what I’m thinking about as I come to another entry in this, my weekly chronicle. There’s nothing especially new to report today. Evelyn’s decline is steady, but slow. Each of her days is much like those just past. Each of my visits with her follows a familiar pattern.

So, for the sake of remembering our life at this stage, I’ve decided to describe what “nothing new” looks like these days.

Every day

I try to visit Evelyn every day. Usually I’m there about 90 minutes or two hours. If my schedule allows, I get there sometime between 2:30 and 3:00, which lets me check-in with the daytime aides and be there through the shift change to visit with the new gals coming on at 3:00. (There are a couple of male aides, but none that usually work in Evelyn’s wing.)

Almost all of these folks do a good job; some are outstanding. I generally feel confident with them, and I’ve tried to establish a good relationship with each one.

Before Evelyn moved, friends told me residents who get regular visits receive better care than those who don’t. I’m not sure that’s happening at Artis. I regularly see attentive care for residents who almost never get visitors. And the nursing staff is excellent: competent, concerned, interested, fun!

While I’m with Evelyn, often I try to interest her in some sort of puzzle or fidget cloth or something similar designed for dementia patients. Sometimes we listen to music. Occasionally we play hymns, and I sing with her; she may sing along with a phrase now and then.

Most often she is reading, or more likely concentrating on, a magazine or book or newspaper. I talk with her about what’s in front of her. I bring her candy and encourage her to drink water. I chat with the aides and other residents. And I sit with something to read myself or scroll on my phone while Evelyn concentrates on what’s in front of her.

 Gifts from God

Around 4:00, one of two private-pay aides comes to stay with Evelyn till about 8:00. Tori (in blue, below) and Jessica are gifts from God. Each stayed with Evelyn at home several hours weekly before Evelyn moved. When Evelyn’s brother said he wanted to help pay for her care, I decided his generosity would allow me to hire them to be with Evelyn every day.

They lead Evelyn to freshen up before dinner and then they help her eat. They take her to activities provided by Artis, push her on strolls around the building or outside, talk and laugh with her, bring her treats, do her nails, massage her feet and elbows, give her pedicures, sing and sometimes pray with her, change her for bedtime, and get her to bed.

They often get help from the aides, but they’re in charge, with competent concern, every minute. They text me on their way home with details about the evening. They’re another set of eyes and ears (as well as loving hands and feet!), monitoring Evelyn’s care as well as providing it.

Their presence gives me added confidence to miss a day visiting now and then and to leave overnight when I get the chance. I thank God every day for them.

 Mostly comfortable

Early in this journey I wrote that Evelyn’s care had become my main mission in life. I guess that’s still true. There’s not a day I’m not involved in her care, either because I’m with her or because I’m in touch with Tori and Jessica or a staff member or the hospice nurse.

(By the way, hospice care is another gift from God: weekly medical check-ups, attentive eyes from hospice aides, a massage therapist, and now a music therapist. All free. It’s wonderful.)

But Evelyn’s move has freed me to think about other missions, and I’m finding a variety of ways to be involved with other people—for their good, I hope, as well as mine.

I know there will be something new to report someday, probably sooner than I anticipate. But for now, “nothing new” is mostly comfortable for Evelyn, I think. And for me, too.