Those that have been keeping up to date with the latest blogs from Dementia Life will know that I moved my office into my parents’ dining room a few weeks ago. It was a decision that meant that I could keep Mum company during the day while my dad’s at work.

It’s been really tough. I’ve watched my mum be completely lost during the day. She was putting the washing machine on with two tea-towels in it and then literally watching them dry in the tumble dryer. She’d take dry clothes off of the clothes airer and fold them, then put them on the sofa, move them to the kitchen table, then back to the sofa.

In the background was the constant drone of daytime television. I always thought that Mum wandering around the house or going for a cigarette a few minutes after she put one out was her Alzheimer’s on show. And that might be the case, or at least some of it. But after today, I’m sure a lot of this stems from boredom.

Boredom Looks Like Dementia Getting Worse

This is the thing about dementia and boredom at home that nobody really talks about. When someone with dementia has lost the ability to fill their own time — to read, to plan, to choose what to do next — the day becomes a loop. And that loop can look a lot like the disease getting worse, when actually, part of what you’re seeing is a person with dementia who has nothing to do.

Enter Simon Baker and his wavy barnet. Netflix recently added The Mentalist to its platform. I remember watching it with my parents and it used to be something we all enjoyed. So today when Mum tried to put the dishwasher on with nothing but a single cup in it, it hit me — why don’t I put The Mentalist on for Mum.

So, I made her a cup of coffee and put the first episode on. I went back to the dining room, sat at my desk and went back to work. And then, for the first time in a long time, Mum was genuinely relaxed. She was sat actively watching the television and seemed…happy. I haven’t seen that for so long.

If it had stopped there I’d have been over the moon, but it didn’t. At points I heard an actual chuckle from my mum, no doubt due to a flippant comment from Patrick Jane, but an actual chuckle.

This meant more to me than I thought it would. Not only did it mean that Mum was actually following the conversation happening on screen and understood it enough to find it funny, but it was also the first time I’d heard my mum laugh, independently of other people, for years.

Lessons About How to Keep Someone With Dementia Engaged

The lesson here is about familiar activities in dementia. Stimulation matters. Familiarity matters. Finding the right thing for the person in front of you matters. For us, it turned out to be a 2008 American cop show. For someone else, it’ll be something completely different. But the principle’s the same: don’t assume someone’s beyond engaging. Try.

If you’re struggling with keeping someone with dementia occupied at home, start with what they used to love. A programme they watched. Music they listened to. A smell from the kitchen that used to mean something. The senses reach somewhere that the disease can’t always take away.

To Bruno Heller, Simon Baker and the writing team behind the quips of Patrick Jane…thank you. You’ve made my week and you’ve made my mum laugh again, and that’s worth more to me than you could ever know.