Gwen O'Regan

Tag: dementia

  • OT Tips for Supporting People with Dementia During Routine Disruptions

    OT Tips for Supporting People with Dementia During Routine Disruptions

    December can be especially challenging for people living with dementia. Changes in routine, extra visitors, unfamiliar environments, noise, and overstimulation can lead to distress, confusion, or behavioural changes.

    With a little preparation and awareness, families can support their loved ones with compassion and confidence.

    Stick to Familiar Anchors

    Even when the environment changes, keep key routines steady.

    • morning and evening rituals
    • medication times
    • favourite seating areas
    • familiar music or objects

    Predictability reduces anxiety.

    Create a Calm Space

    During gatherings or busy days, make sure there’s a quiet retreat where the person can rest. This space should have:

    • soft lighting
    • minimal noise
    • comforting, familiar items
    • no clutter or trip hazards

    Retreat is not a failure – it’s healthy self regulation.

    Limit Overstimulation

    Too many voices, decorations, or changes can overwhelm the senses. Introduce new elements gradually and avoid sudden burst of activity.

    If you’re hosting, designate times for:

    • small group interactions
    • quiet breaks
    • gentle transitions

    Communicate Clearly and Kindly

    Short, simple sentences work best. “We’re going to the sitting room now’”

    “You’re safe, I’m Here.”

    People living with dementia feel the emotional tone more than the words – your calmness matters.

    Validate, Don’t Correct

    If they express confusion or fear, respond to the emotion rather than the accuracy.

    Instead of: “No, that’s not happening.”

    Try: “I can see that feels upsetting. You’re okay – I’m right here with you.”

    Validation reduces distress more effectively than correction.

    Safety First

    Pay attention to:

    • clutter from decorations
    • lighting changes
    • mobility risks
    • changes in eating or sleeping patterns

    A safe environment helps them stay confident and engaged.

  • When the Mail Piles Up: The Small Clues That Someone Needs Help

    When the Mail Piles Up: The Small Clues That Someone Needs Help

    It often starts with something small—something many people wouldn’t notice. A pile of unopened mail on the hallway table. A calendar that hasn’t been turned to the new month. A plant by the sink that’s just starting to wilt.

    In my years as an occupational therapist, I’ve learned that these quiet signs can speak volumes.

    I once visited a gentleman who was referred for support with managing at home. His home, at first glance, seemed fine—tidy, even. But as we talked, I noticed the stack of envelopes growing thick on the dresser. Some were bills, some flyers. All unopened.

    When I gently asked about them, he shrugged. “I just don’t have the energy for it,” he said. That was the opening.

    Often, changes in function or wellbeing don’t announce themselves loudly. They whisper. And it’s in these whispers that we find our work as OTs. Because those piles of mail? They’re not just paperwork. They’re clues—signs that someone might be overwhelmed, withdrawing, or losing track of time and tasks.

    For some, it’s the early sign of depression. For others, cognitive changes. Sometimes it’s grief. Or burnout. But whatever the cause, these subtle shifts in daily life often mark a change in how someone is coping.

    That’s why occupational therapy is often about the context as much as the task. We look at how someone is living in their space. We look for the signs of disengagement, and we ask what support—what reconnection—is needed.

    Maybe it’s practical strategies to manage post, reminders, or simplifying routines. But more often, it’s about re-engaging with what makes daily life feel meaningful again.

    The mail may be piling up, but behind it is a person—trying their best.

    And that’s where we begin.

  • What 20 Years of OT Has Taught Me About Patience

    When I first entered the world of occupational therapy, I was eager to help, to fix, to make things better. I believed in the power of occupation, and I still do—but back then, I thought change would be visible, even quick. It didn’t take long before I realised that real change often unfolds slowly, sometimes almost imperceptibly, like a seed quietly putting down roots.

    Patience is something occupational therapy teaches you—not through textbooks, but through people.
    I learned patience sitting beside a woman with severe depression, encouraging her to brush her hair again after weeks of neglect. I learned it walking alongside a man living with dementia, relearning how to make a cup of tea—not for the tea itself, but for what it meant to him. And I saw it in parents waiting, watching, and hoping their child might one day tie their own shoelaces.


    These moments, which may seem small to some, are where the deepest work takes place. They don’t announce themselves. There’s no dramatic transformation. But if you stay long enough, quietly and respectfully, something shifts.
    Patience, I’ve found, isn’t about waiting without complaint. It’s about being fully present in the waiting. It’s about holding space for someone as they find their own rhythm, their own readiness, their own way.

    Over the years, my pace has slowed—not in energy, but in intention. I’ve become more comfortable with silence, with uncertainty, and with the messy, non-linear paths that people walk. I’ve learned that trust isn’t built in assessments or plans, but in returning—day after day—with steadiness and care.

    Patience has also taught me humility. Not every goal will be achieved. Not every outcome is measurable. But even in what seems like failure, there is often quiet growth: in confidence, in comfort, in connection.

    Now, as I reflect on years of walking alongside both the very young and the very old, I see patience as the golden thread that runs through every stage of life. Whether it’s a child learning to dress themselves for the first time, or an older adult learning to let go of once-familiar routines, what’s needed most is not urgency—but understanding.

    Occupational therapy has taught me many things, but perhaps the most enduring lesson is this: healing doesn’t happen on our timetable. It happens on theirs. And when we honour that, something truly therapeutic begins.