There's No Place Like Home...There's No Place Like Home

The majority of us are familiar with the Wizard of Oz, that 1939 classic movie where Dorothy and Toto meet the Lion, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow shortly after being ejected from their home during a Kansas tornado. On Dorothy's journey she sees things that are interesting, intriguing and beautiful. On the other hand, she's often met with frightening, dark and ugly creatures. Eventually, she and her new-found friends meander their way down the yellow brick road to meet the Wizard who wasn't really cracked up to be what everyone promised! All Dorothy really wanted was to go home. She'd enjoyed her adventure, but could not wait to be back at home again. She was willing to endure fear and sacrifice anything in order to be home again.


For the past eight weeks, that's the way it's been with Mother. "I just want to go home!" she repeats over and over again, while slamming her fists on her chair or nearby table. Every visit, I leave feeling guilty that I cannot bring her home. What she can't seem to grasp is that we simply don't have the stamina or resources to make sure she receives 24/7 safety and care. The facility where she is now takes very good care of her. At least 15-20 professionals oversee Joan's needs every day. After nearly 10 years of caregiving, it's now an impossible task for Larry and me, being only an army of two.

During a visit this week with Joan and me, her granddaughter and her great-grandchildren, she made her request known to them ("I just want to go home!"). I once again told the little white lie that all family members and care partners tell to their loved one with dementia - "I'm sorry, you can't go home until the doctor says so." At that exact moment she got up, said I'm going to find a doctor, and stormed out of her room. What was I to do? Let her go, that's what. My daughter and I smiled at each other knowing she would never find a doctor to tell her what she wanted to hear. Darn it if she didn't come back to the room with a professional wearing a white lab coat! (Who preceded to tell her she cannot go home, and that she was there for safety reasons).

What is that instinct within us that longs for home? I've read that abused children long to return to the parent who's been abusing them rather than to stay in a foster home. I read more recently that even if we were to take our memory-impaired, loved one to the home they lived in before they went to live at the full-time in a care facility, it would not be the home they are envisioning. More often than not, people with dementia and other forms of memory loss are longing to go to their childhood home, a place where they felt safe and loved 60 or 70 years ago.

Joan really loves her place at Darby Glenn often commenting that everyone here knows me, everyone loves my place, I like the meals, and all of the people here are really nice. Then there are other days when she complains about the food, her laundry and clients who bother her (all of us can identify with Joan on some level here, don't you think? We all have bad days).

Toto, I have a feeling mom knows full good and well that she's not in Kansas anymore, but even if I clicked my ruby red shoes together three times, I still can't make the Alzheimer's go away. Most days I need to seek the Lion for added courage, the Tin Man for a brain to process this all, a Scarecrow who teaches me to not lose heart, and most importantly of all, I need to find the Wizard who will soon discover a cure for this tumultuous disease called Alzheimer's!