I’ve found to be a blessing waiting to happen. When I walk into our Reflections neighborhood, I walk into a different world, where I play whatever part is needed for the sake of that resident, that day.”

In considering the consequences of dementia on family dynamics, Ronda offers hope. “This can be a time of great restoration in families. Barriers come tumbling down. Estrangements are mended. Parents, children, siblings can share at a deeper level of honesty.”

Within her own extended family, she discovered these truths too late. “Years ago, when my grandmother was beset with Alzheimer’s, my mom—all of us— refused to accept what we saw as a dismal future. In fear and frustration, we pressed Grandma. ‘Don’t you remember this?; don’t you remember that?; come on, try harder.’”

Today Ronda knows better. “Families can get beyond the heartache, dwelling not on what’s lost, but on the surprise in what’s found. You can learn to enter this present moment, embracing what comes, whatever comes.

“But first you must move past denial and, above all, educate yourself,” Ronda continues. “Read, ask, listen. Absolutely join a support group through the Alzheimer’s Association. Call its HelpLine. These resources make the journey so much easier, giving you coping skills and relief from the intense frustration and guilt that invariably attend. You can learn not only to recognize ransomed moments, but create them, and be blessed through them.

“My grandmother eventually knew her husband of 70 years only as ‘Friend John.’ Theirs was for decades a rocky marriage, made so largely by John’s roughness. Yet, in the end, in her dementia, she would call out daily, longing to see him. The past—the not-so-pleasant past— had blissfully faded. All that remained was her friend, John. The last three years were the best of their entire marriage. My mom commented often that she wouldn’t have missed witnessing that healing for anything.”

For dementia sufferers themselves life becomes a purple world, an alternative reality. The best way to reach them is to “get purple” too, go where they are in their thoughts and meet them there. “I just got back from London,” one resident might say. And we respond, “How was your trip? What did you do? Glad you’re back home.” Or in a more agitated vein, “I want to go home. I have to get home.” Our response: “Tell me about your home; what’s it like? Why do you love it so?”

“Dementia introduces a crazy rhythm and reason,” Teresa explains. “It’s our job to study each resident’s history and personality, and figure out what each behavior is trying to communicate.

Adverse behaviors are often side effects from antipsychotic drugs. Teresa stresses, “As a staunch advocate for families, I’m going to wrack my brain and exhaust every resource before I go the pharmaceutical route. My goal as Wellness Director is to have less than 10% of my residents on any kind of drug.”

Success stories from Teresa’s chapter book speak loudest…

One of our residents is a retired captain from the Phoenix Fire Department. When he came to us, Murray*, was impulsively rising from his seat and falling often. The cause was easy to finger when we learned he was on Haldol which produces hallucinations and insomnia as it robs the appetite.

Here was another situation when an antipsychotic was prescribed not to counter psychosis, but to control some other symptom. “We begged hospice to take him off. His family was in full agreement, seeing what the drug was doing to their beloved father. It took an Act of Congress, but we were successful”.

To curb the falls, especially at high-risk times of day, we made Murray a nest in one of our common areas. Reading on the floor had always been his habit. So there he was content and comfortable, with staff and residents all around. Teresa proudly reports he hasn’t had a fall in three months. Has no skin tears. And thoroughly enjoys three meals a day.

“His wife has cried many times with joy, so appreciative is she of our intervention and love,” says Teresa. “For the first time in a long time, she’s relaxed enough to go on vacation, confident in our care. That’s the best compliment we can get.”

Another story, this one incriminating Depakote, a powerful tranquilizer: “We titrated one of our gentleman off that drug,” says Teresa, “substituting a routine he’d loved throughout his life: taking leisurely walks. Now, Barry* walks our greater neighborhood 3-4 times a day, with staff.” By this, he has come back to life: engaged all day long, serving others, tidying up, joining in.

* Names have been changed to protect resident privacy