When I worked in memory care, there was a gentleman who had always enjoyed sitting on his back porch with a beer. It was part of his routine—something familiar, comfortable, and very much a part of the life he had always known.
As his dementia progressed, drinking regular beer wasn’t necessarily the best option anymore. But I didn’t want that to mean he had to lose something he enjoyed.
So we found another way.
The only non-alcoholic beer I could find locally was Busch NA, meaning Busch non-alcoholic.
It gave him a way to continue a familiar ritual without taking away something that still brought him enjoyment.
One day, he invited some of his old friends over for a little get-together. They sat together, visited, laughed, and drank Busch NA.
For a while, it wasn’t about dementia.
It was just a group of old friends enjoying time together.
After everyone had gone home, he took another Busch NA and went outside to sit on the porch by himself.
I remember him telling me afterward:
“That was a great, great day.”
I’ve never forgotten that.
To someone looking in from the outside, it might have seemed like we were simply giving a man a non-alcoholic beer.
But it wasn’t really about the beer.
It was about his friends.
It was about sitting on the porch.
It was about a familiar routine and being able to do something that still felt like his life.
Dementia changes so much. And sometimes, with the very best intentions, we can become so focused on what someone can no longer safely do that we start taking away pieces of the life they still recognize and enjoy.
Person-centered dementia care asks us to look at things a little differently.
Instead of immediately saying, “They can’t do that anymore,” maybe sometimes we can ask:
“Is there a safe way we can help them still experience it?”
Sometimes there is.
And sometimes something as simple as a Busch NA, a few old friends, and an afternoon on the porch can make for a great, great day.
— Andrea Wheatley
Founder, The Dementia Roadmap
