I'm Still Standing
♪ yeah yeah yeah ♪

Takeaway: Familiar routines anchor better than logic. Meet them where they are, not where you wish they were.

Alzheimer's care is about connection, not correction. Familiar sights, sounds, and routines can anchor a person more than logic ever will. Meet them where they are, not where you wish they were.

Takeaway: Simplify choices to 2-3 visible options. Everything accessible, nothing hidden.

Choices are empowering, but too many choices overwhelm.

I set up a table in the hallway outside Dad's room with three piles: shorts, pants, underwear.

No wrong choices, everything matches. No digging through his closet or drawers. All the clothing he needs is visible and easy to reach.

He likes to change often. He is still modest but trips to the mailbox in those ♥️ underwear is still a thing.

For shoes: one pair of slip-ons and one pair of flip-flops. No laces. No belts. Both are super frustrating.

Simple, visible, reachable. Self reliance.

With Alzheimer's, simplifying is not babying, it is defending their independence.

A calm, clear, and clean environment soothes the mind.

Takeaway: When they ask "Who are you?", answer with reassurance: "I'm your son, you are safe."

Dad doesn't know his name.
Dad doesn't know what year it is.
Dad doesn't know where he lives.
Doesn't know his wife.
Can't tell you what day it is.

He looks at me like a stranger…

"Who are you?"

I tell him calmly and a lot:

"I'm your son, you are safe."

It's not memory loss anymore it's identity collapse.

There's no recognition…there's only fear and blank stares

Yet he's still in there.

It's in his eyes.

In the way he cries and says "thank you" after I remind him who he is 15x.

In the way his body relaxes when I say….

"You are safe and I'm not going anywhere."

That's a win now.

No lucidity. No improvements coming.

Just one moment where Dad isn't scared.

"I'll remember for you Dad."

That's the job.

Takeaway: When they're angry, validate the emotion not the logic. "I know you can. You're my hero."

Dad has Alzheimer's.

He used to fly planes, build houses, dive off high boards.

Now he screams, I can't do a damn thing!

Here's what I've learned about caregiving when they're angry, scared, and slipping away.

Today he is very angry...its been a hell of a day.

When he says:

I can fly a damn plane but I can't walk out this door!

He's not just mad.

He's grieving the man he was.

The instinct to argue or explain doesn't help.

Instead, say:

I know you can. You always could. You're my hero.

Validate the emotion not the logic.

Arguing reality makes the spiral worse and they wont ever be a breakthrough to make it better.

Honor what they feel then shift the moment.

He said:

I don't have a damn thing I can do.

I said:

Let's go for a walk...you, me and the dog!

Don't say: You have Alzheimer's.

Say:

That cloud in your head? That frustration? That's the sickness and I sure do love you, right here right now.

Name the enemy but keep your parent the hero.

Sometimes he lashes out at my mom:

She can't do anything either!

This is projection.

He's seeing his own loss in her.

Don't defend, reframe:

Mom wants to go places too. She's doing her best. We all are.

Offer choices that preserve dignity...even small ones.

You want to go for a ride in the car or a walk with the dog?

They may feel trapped.

Let them feel some control.

Today he said:

You don't let me do a damn thing!

Don't get defensive:

You built this house. You've done more than anyone I know. We're just keeping it safe now.

Honor the legacy. Less explaining...more anchoring in the Present and senses.

Photos. Memories. Grandkids. Car rides. Routines.

And sometimes… just silence and a hand on the shoulder.

You cant fix it.

But you can bring them to the Present.

Here's the framework I use daily:

-Validate feelings
-Avoid correcting memory
-Offer short-term choices
-Name the disease, not the person
-Celebrate who they were
-Stay calm, stay close
-Be Present

You won't always get it right.

But they feel your presence.

Even through the fog that gets through.

That counts.

Takeaway: During night terrors, don't try to wake them. Stay close, speak softly, remind them they're safe.

Dad Alzheimer's Update

Dad had night terrors again last night.

He was 9yo when he and my uncle found their father, a police officer, shot and murdered. That moment shattered his childhood and rewired his life.

Now, 72 years later, that memory still owns the night.

When the night terrors come, nothing wakes him. He screams and cries out like a child. With Alzheimer's, there is no exaggeration or acting it's real to him. His doctor told me, "When he's in that state, he might as well be back there again."

And where he's going is 1953.

He tells me the story for hours. This time it lasted from 3am to 6am. Some of the details are right, some are not. But it is his truth in that moment. I cry too.

He talks about how hard life became after his father's murder. There were no fallen officer programs in the 1950s. No counseling. No support. You just sucked it up. His mother worked 2 jobs to raise 2 little boys on her own. That trauma never left him. It is still sharp in his mind. There are no gaps in that memory. He remembers it all.

There is a rhythm to life with Alzheimer's, suffering followed by silence.

Im not going anywhere.