Category Archives: Humorous Incidents

A Good Use for Humor

By Lisa Cochrane

For most of my life, one of my mother’s outstanding traits was her ability to socialize with others.  She had an ability to start, or add to, a lively conversation on most any subject and a way of making every stranger feel welcome, every person feel important.

Alzheimer’s changed that wonderful behavior and recently she has begun to just chatter, maybe for attention or maybe as an attempt to be her old self.  However, she now interrupts conversations with nonsensical, repetitive, often irrelevant chatter.  Or in the car, she will just talk non-stop about nothing and everything.  It can be very irritating, so my family tried humor and found that it often works… at least temporarily.

When my mother is chattering non-stop in the car, my brother tells her that he has an Eject-o-Mom installed in the passenger seat and if she continues to chatter he will press it.  She giggles and the chatter subsides!  Ten minutes later, she may be chattering again and he may have to say it again, but she giggles again and is quiet for another few minutes.

When she chatters non-stop at home, Steve tells her that the chair she is in only has a 100-word capacity and if she says more than 100 words, it and she will melt into the carpet.  And she stops to think about that and forgets to chatter for a few minutes.

While this may sound silly, it actually works.  Those with Alzheimer’s have a different reality.  You cannot teach them to modify their behavior – they will forget your teaching.  You cannot effectively punish them, for they often do things unconsciously; they react without ‘thinking’.  Nor will they long remember a punishment or what it was for.

So when I need to reprimand my mom (which can be often), I try to find a funny, nonsensical way to do it instead of using anger (which only makes the matters worse).   And with each activity that I do with my mom, I try to make her laugh at least once.  And as I try to find things to make her laugh, I find myself relaxing and finding more joy in my time with her.

There are lots of things in life to make you laugh or smile, if you only take the time to notice.  That’s one good lesson I have (re)learned while caring for my mom; and one I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life!

What to do About Cursing?

Lately a friend’s mother, who suffers from Alzheimer’s, has developed an interesting and sometimes embarrassing trait that is far more common than most people may realize. She curses, usually without warning or provocation, and in a public setting it can be very difficult to deal with—when Mom lets loose like a sailor every head within earshot turns to see who said it.

There really isn’t much a caregiver can do to stop this trait of Alzheimer’s. It is a recognized symptom of the disease, and like most aspects is basically incurable. But there are ways to cope. As my friend discovered, responding with an alternate phrase may be enough to make the change stick. Her mother would call out in public, “My God! My God!” Each time she did, my friend responded with, “My goodness. My goodness.” Eventually Mom started saying, “My goodness” instead. But this only worked for a while, since at home the rest of the family didn’t reinforce the change.

Another coping device that might limit the shock and embarrassment of such outbursts is to be prepared when they occur. Compile a list of similar-sounding words and keep them in mind when the Alzheimer’s sufferer is in a public setting. When a choice four-letter word is delivered, quickly respond with its sound-alike. Duck? I don’t see a duck, Mom. Silly, but that’s the idea—try to turn it into a little bit of humor. Most people around you will probably understand what’s going on right away.

Just remember that cursing, unfortunately, is a typical symptom of Alzheimer’s. If you don’t let it become an embarrassment, it won’t seem as shocking.

Mamita

Submitted by Carmen T. Bernier-Grand

I had left my Oregon home and family to take care of my parents in Puerto Rico. My brother had been their helper, but now that my father’s anemia had made him forgetful and my mother’s pulmonary fibrosis had thickened her lungs, it wasn’t fair for my brother to carry the full load. My sister had done her duty. She had spent over half a year with my parents. It was my turn. What an experience that was!

One morning at two I heard water running. For sure my father had forgotten to turn off the outside faucet. He often did, and water ran all the way from the backyard to the street. This was from a father who complained that water bills were too high.  I had to find the source of this running water.

I opened the back gate and found two tree frogs leaping to hide as if they had done something wrong. Their hundred friends’ Kokee-kokee songs muffled the running water. That sound didn’t come from the outside faucet but from inside.

The kitchen faucet! What hadn’t I thought of it? That faucet insisted to be turned a certain way or it wouldn’t close. I went in and turned on the kitchen light. Not a drop from the kitchen faucet.

I could still hear water.

Could it be the toilet?  This save-water toilet had to be flushed several times, using as much or more water than the old one. I listened by the bathroom door. I had misspoken about this toilet, but what about the toilet in Mamita’s bathroom?

I had to cross Mamita’s bedroom to get to it. In the dark I saw a figure. It couldn’t be Mamita. She had strict orders from the doctor not to get out of bed by herself.

“What’s happening?” Mamita asked.

I turned on the light. Mamita was sitting on the portable toilet. It had no bucket underneath it! I had taken it out.

At two-thirty I was mopping the terrazzo floors in Mamita’s bedroom. But later that morning, we gave others the gift of this memory wrapped in laughter.

Carmen T. Bernier-Grand is the author of many popular books for children, including Diego, an Oregon Book Awards Finalist. She is currently working on a children’s book about Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor. Her web site is at http://www.carmenberniergrand.com/