We turned a corner and giant metal flowers caught my eye. I also spied statues of people, but we were caught in the flow of traffic, and although I craned my neck, I saw only enough to know I wanted to return. We did, that night, and I experienced a piece of Ottawa which touched and moved me.
The Cancer Survivor’s Park sits in the heart of the nation’s capitol, and is designed to encourage, uplift and strengthen those who are fighting all forms of this frightening disease. Rows of pathways have an inspirational plaque at each end, with messages to inspire and give great advice. The metal flowers drew my eyes upwards and the statues were of people of all ages who had come out the other end of the battle with cancer.
As I walked the pathways and read the messages, I felt like I was on holy ground. So much courage and pain had gone into its inception.
What if Dementia had a park?
What would it look like? What inspirational messages would be important? How could it help?
This month, I’ve taken three messages from the Cancer Survivor’s Park, and I’m adding a bit of whimsy to think what my dementia park would look like, and what aspects would make it a blessing both to those with dementia and those who care for them.
What would it look like?
Flowers. Everything from the formal rose gardens my mom used to have, to wildflowers to attract the bees and butterflies. Pathways to walk among them which are friendly to walkers and wheelchairs. Lots of signs to identify the varieties of flowers , so no one gets frustrated trying to remember. (I remember how devastating it was for my mom, a life-long gardener, when she couldn’t remember the flowers’ names.)
Benches everywhere, which would be named after my special friends at Christie Gardens. Florence. Isobel. Jean. Len. George. Margaret. Grace.
A small-scale CP rail train would run along the perimeter, because so many of the men love trains.
In a gazebo (accessed by ramps, not stairs) would be wicker baskets of knitting needles and wool. For many, knitting is calming, and when you sit with others who are knitting, you chat. A win-win.
I will let my imagination rove more next week, but here is one of the inspirational signs from the Cancer Survivor’s Park that applies to dementia (and pretty much any disease.)
Get state-of-the-art treatment information. Know all your options. Knowledge heals.
Many elders receive their diagnosis of Alzheimer’s or dementia from their general practitioner. There’s nothing wrong with this. Going forward, however, you need advice from someone who specializes in eldercare, and especially the many forms of dementia. Many GPs aren’t well versed in the different ways the elderly body reacts to medication, or how something as innocuous as a urinary tract infection can put an elder in the hospital. Consider finding a gerontologist to supplement your GP’s care, and someone who specializes in the many forms of dementia to consult. Also, do your own research. This is not a curable disease, but the many drug and treatment therapies which are now available can make the quality of your elder’s life (and yours) immeasurably better.
Dementia is a terrible, frightening disease. I’m not disputing that. But if you, as a partner with your elder, decide to fight it with knowledge and the best possible care, you will infuse each day with hope, memories and quality of life.
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