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When Bob Wahl first noticed his wife Beverley pausing mid-sentence to grasp a forgotten word, he dismissed it as ordinary fatigue. A minor fall, a wrong turn on a familiar road, and a puzzling bill paid twice soon followed. By the time doctors finally named the shadow—vascular dementia—the couple had already stepped onto a path neither training nor temperament can fully prepare anyone to walk. For ten years, Bob balanced love, exhaustion, prayer, and hard choices until Beverley’s peaceful passing in 2016. His memoir Love Never Ends reads like both a field manual and devotional for families facing the slow erasure of someone they cherish. Drawing on that journey, here are five lessons to steady hearts and hands in the long season of dementia care.
1.Form a Care-Team Early—Then Keep Adjusting
Dementia is seldom a solo assignment. Bob began by recruiting three part-time aides, then expanded to a rotating roster of friends, nursing professionals, and church volunteers. Each change in Beverley’s mobility, swallowing, or sleep disrupted the schedule—but also revealed fresh strengths hidden in the circle. Modern caregivers can emulate this fluid “team mindset” by mapping out who can cover which need long before a crisis hits:
- Medical expertise: family physicians, neurologists, occupational therapists.
- Practical hands: aides for bathing, meal prep, and transfers.
- Emotional ballast: friends willing to sit quietly or read aloud.
- Spiritual anchors: pastors, prayer partners, hymn-sing visitors.
Bob learned to treat the roster as a living document—revisited monthly, updated ruthlessly, and celebrated often. Bringing helpers on early reduces burnout later, and naming their roles gives each person permission to serve without guesswork.
2.Accept the “New Normal” in Small, Honest Steps
Beverley’s first catheter felt to Bob like a thunderclap announcing how far their life had drifted from the ordinary—but it also spared her recurring infections and painful emergency trips. Every device, from a sit-stand lift to a feeding spoon, became both a symbol of loss and an instrument of dignity. Caregivers who frame each adjustment as a trade—not a defeat—gain the freedom to move with the illness rather than against it. Practically, that means:
- Scheduling family “check-ins” after every medical review to decide what daily routines need rewriting.
- Naming grief aloud (“It hurts to see Mom need help eating”) so resentment has no stealthy corners to grow in.
- Allowing humor to survive—the day Beverley insisted on wearing two differently colored shoes became a treasured family story, not a silent embarrassment.
Acceptance arrives in increments, and so does peace.
3.Communicate Beyond Words
As language faded, Bob discovered fresh channels: gospel choruses hummed during sponge baths, favorite Scriptures recited in rhythm with breathing, and a gentle palm-to-palm press that said, I am here; you are safe. When sentences falter, sensory cues often speak louder:
- Music: compile playlists of hymns, lullabies, or 1950s love songs. Melody bypasses damaged neural routes and awakens recognition.
- Touch: learn light hand massage or simply rest a warm hand on the shoulder. Respect comfort zones, but do not underestimate the reassurance of physical presence.
- Scent: the aroma of fresh bread or lilac hand-lotion can unlock memory pockets words cannot reach.
Conversational silence need not equal relational silence; it is simply an invitation to creativity.
4.Guard the Caregiver’s Soul and Body
Bob baffled a night-shift nurse by arriving at Beverley’s bedside freshly showered and clutching a thermos of coffee—after napping in the facility’s family room. Modern caregivers must treat self-care as stewardship, not selfishness. Practical safeguards include:
- Mini-Sabbaths: thirty-minute walks, an hour at a café with a journal, or attending worship while a friend covers the bedside.
- Counselling: many faith-based organizations offer subsidized therapy for caregivers navigating anticipatory grief.
- Physical check-ups: schedule your own annual exams; chronic stress can mask hypertension and other silent conditions.
Caregiving is a marathon run at a sprinter’s intensity. Rest stops are not luxuries—they are essential asphalt.
5.Anchor Every Decision in Love and Faith
The toughest call Bob faced was whether to continue aggressive antibiotics after Beverley’s immune system weakened. Prayer, medical counsel, and a handwritten pros-and-cons list finally led him to prioritize comfort over prolonged intervention. Faith offered both a compass and cushion. Whatever your spiritual tradition, rooting big choices in core values—compassion, dignity, hope—relieves regret later. Simple daily habits help keep that anchor firm:
- Morning prayer or meditation: a five-minute ritual of surrender resets perspective.
- Gratitude journaling: list three mercies each night, however small—a nurse’s joke, a cloudless sky, a stable blood pressure reading.
- Scripture or inspirational readings aloud: letting ancient words mingle with hospital beeps reminds hearts that stories of endurance did not begin with us.
Moving Forward Together
Dementia care is paradoxical: intensely personal yet impossible to shoulder alone, heartbreaking yet shot through with unexpected grace. Bob Wahl’s decade beside Beverley demonstrates that practical logistics and spiritual hope are not separate toolkits—they belong on the same workbench. Equip yourself early, adapt often, cherish humor, protect your health, and let faith illuminate the road’s darkest bends. Beneath the clinical charts lies a quieter truth: love, when tended daily, outlasts even the mind’s retreat.
Want deeper guidance and real-time diary excerpts?
Explore Bob Wahl’s Love Never Ends—a candid chronicle filled with caregiver tips, prayers, and hard-won wisdom for anyone facing dementia’s long valley. Available online and at bookstores everywhere.
