Recently my mil (89 with dementia) said she'd like to have her bread machine back (we "borrowed" it a while ago because the last time she tried to use it she mis-measured ingredients, programmed it all wrong, the bread burned, and the pans nearly had to be thrown out). A day later she presented me with a shopping list that she'd made up after going through a stack of recipes she'd cut out of a magazine...recipes that called for large portions (she lives alone) or involved a lot of prep work. She used to love to cook and bake, but it has become obvious to my husband and I that she can't follow recipes any more. She mis-measures, doesn't read ingredients correctly, skips steps or repeats them...and then I'm left with trying to figure out if her latest "project" is salvageable or should just get tossed into the trash. Her Parkinsonism has also caused her to lose a great deal of manual dexterity and messed with her depth perception...she frequently drops and/or knocks things over. She can't safely cut or chop vegetables, can't stir or pour batters without spilling, can't "lightly grease" a baking pan without going through half a can of cooking spray! She doesn't always ask to bake or cook, but every now an then she gets a yearning to try again and seems to forget (or chooses to ignore) her limitations. It's one of the tougher things I have to deal with - how to make her understand there are certain things she just can't do anymore without destroying her sense of independence and usefulness. Offering to "help" her with it is not really an option because the whole reason behind her decision to try baking some brownies or trying a new recipe is she wants to do it HERSELF. I think she wants to prove to us (and probably herself) that she still can do some things without either of us helping. Any feedback from other caregivers out there who've encountered similar situations would be welcome and appreciated!
I would get her some Pillsbury cookie dough and a TIMER she can handle and just let her bake. After a few failures, let her decide to give it up. I would never discourage a child or an elder who wants to create. What is it hurting? xo
I relate to your MIL but I do understand the need to get persons with dementia to respect at least some of their limitations, for practical reasons. I stopped saying "you can't do that anymore" to my husband and said instead, "You did that for many, many years, and you did it very well. Now you are retired from that task. It's time to take it easy and let younger folks have their turn." I don't guess that exactly made him happy to give up shoveling snow (which he LOVED to do) or doing household plumbing or electrical repairs, but it was (I hope) a little less harsh than pointing out he wasn't capable of doing those things.
Cooking is generally not as risky as rewiring a lamp, but it sounds like MIL would be very disappointed and distressed when her creations didn't turn out to be edible, so talking her into doing something else is really as much to her benefit as yours. I hope you can find ways to lessen the hurt of not being able to do things.
Are there young family members whom she could "teach." Someone to come over and make one of her recipes under her "supervision"? Someone old enough and clever enough to understand the point of the exercise and ask for lots of advice? "Gramma, it calls for 2-and-a-half cups. Have I measured it right? ... It says to beat the eggs until they are thick and lemon-colored. Do you think I've done it enough?" Etc.
Gosh there are a lot of aspects to having dementia, aren't there!?
It's such a devastating thing to watch a person you know and love so well slowly slip away. My mil confided to me once about 6 or 7 years ago that the two things she feared the most about growing old was ending up in a wheelchair and losing her mind. She said, "If I should ever end up not being able to get around on my own two feet I'm letting you know now, I'm going to be one ornery b****!" She'd also taken care of her husband's aunt (w/alz) for almost a year and so added "if I ever start losing my mind like that, just shoot me!" She remained a vibrant fiercely independent woman right up past her 80th birthday and I thought she had 'em both beat. Now here she is, living out her final years enduring her two worst nightmares! It stinks.