Singing and Dancing through Dementia...and Cats

Thank God Mom put me through dance and acting classes when I was a kid. It was on my own that I took a few voice lessons. Thank God, because aside from the TV nonstop daily, Bob doesn't really have much interaction except through an occasional visitor and me going up to do our daily routine--feeding, toileting, brushing teeth, showering--up and down as he needs.

So, when I get an earworm, I make that worm work for the good of Bob. I belt it out. Over Christmas, the earworm was "Oh, Holy Night!" and lately, "Someday We'll Be Together," by Diana Ross and the Supremes.

An earworm is a song that just won't get out of your head!

Of course, my personality (given my background in theatre) leans toward entertainment--singing, dancing, acting, writing.

In fact, in the beginning stages of dementia, I tried to read to Bob but he lost interest fast and usually ended up falling asleep.

But when someone is belting out a grindy song, you can't sleep. I whirl and side-step and walk around like Mick Jagger--hand on hips and chickening out my chin, twirl and shake my bum. He likes singing and dancing.

And it's fun too. Bob is my captive audience but he laughs and tries to get some words out. He can when he sleep talks but not during waking moments. But still, he tries and that's something. He smiles and laughs and enjoys the show so much that we both end up giggling until I can't sing anymore.

It must be terribly boring to be without a voice, to be without the ability to get out of bed, to be without an urge to lift his hands. I can't imagine how frustrating it is too.

However, when I'm not up there with him, he has his faithful companion, Gully Kitty. She's Bob's bed buddy and lovebug. She's his protector against anyone she doesn't know comes to see him. Or anyone she does know.

"I will kill you!" she says. And she will. She'll slice and dice you up so fast that you'll walk away scared and shocked. But she doesn't ever do it to Bob and only me if I get too frisky with her. So, like daily. Because I can barely stand to keep my hands off that cat. 'Cause, look at her! Isn't she precious? She's a very bad tiny little cat but she's so dang cute. Right?

Bob adores her. She adores Bob.

I adore her. She puts up with me.

The thing Gully Kitty and I have in common is we both entertain our Bob. Her with cattitude and me with singing and dancing.

You should try it sometime. Dementia patients really like a good show.

God bless you all.