Since I was working full-time and Harvey was home alone after his diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease, he took on the responsibility of cooking dinners each night. Eventually, of course, his ability to cook declined to the point where I had to take over that job.
I figured out some shortcuts to easy meal preparations, but it was still a pretty exhausting endeavor.
Then inspiration hit! I would hire a chef to come cook with Harvey once a week. I had someone in mind, someone who knew us and our situation. My idea was that this chef and Harvey could do some meal prep together for meals for the following week. This would give Harvey social interaction and he would be contributing to the household.
When I told our friend, Nancy, about the idea, she said, “No, don’t hire a chef. I’ll do that!”
Now Nancy would be the first to tell you that she is no cook, but each week she showed up at our house with recipes and a list of needed ingredients. She and Harvey then shopped for groceries together, returned, and prepared that evening’s meal. Harvey’s jobs included opening canned foods with our unique can opener, chopping, and stirring.
I returned home from work those evenings to a freshly cooked dinner, a husband who was proud of his mealtime contributions, and a dear, dear friend with which to share that meal.
Because of that success, I recruited another friend, Jill, to do the same with Harvey every other week.
The benefits of “Cooking with Harvey,” as we came to call it, were obvious. As I had planned, he was able to contribute to the household in a tangible way, and he had social interactions with good friends.
What I didn’t predict was the effect it had on Nancy and Jill. Both of them told me numerous times how much they enjoyed their time with Harvey.
They could relax, be silly with him, and get to know him as he was at that moment, connecting over a shared task. They could drop the pretense of creating a perfect meal, and could just be present in the moment. There was no pressure to have stimulating conversation, and in fact, they both leaned into the silence of working alongside someone without words.
Creating and celebrating deep friendship with someone with dementia can be a gift! To the person with dementia, to the caregiver, and to yourself.