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I ask her why and she can't say. My father years back too when we didn't know much about dementia did the same thing. Is there any reason for this? Not wanting to sleep in their own bed?

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A reason? There really isn't a way to reason with dementia. It could be something as simple as she does not find her bed comfortable or as complicated as she thinks there are bedbugs or snakes under the bed or it is not her bed. Probably not even possible to ask her why and get an answer that would make sense to you. She may even be trying to devise a way to get out of there.
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My mother has been sleeping on the couch for decades. Perhaps it's easier to get up or stay alert for any noises through the night. It seems very uncomfortable to us but they must have a reason that makes sense to them. I learned along time ago to let her be or she gets very angry at me even though my intentions were only to help her. My best advice is always consult the physician. It seems most of the time let them do what they want. The best to you and your mom.
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Willy, it could be the recliner is more like a "cocoon" for your Mom, she feels safer. I would just let her sleep there as long as the room temperature is normal.

Could also be a case where your Mom misses your Dad not being in the bed, if your Dad had passed not that long ago.
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Rocketcat, regarding your Grandmother sleeping on the couch because her hubby smelled of smoke.

Even if Grandpa took a shower, washed his hair, brushed his teeth, changed his garments, put on Old Spice, that tobacco smell is there all the time because it is embedded in his lungs. Every time he would exhale, Grandma would smell the cigarettes.... more so if they were together in bed :(
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A 100 y/o lady in Moms NH sleeps in a recliner in the living room adjacent to the nursing station. She didn’t like sleeping in her room and would try to get up at night so her family purchased a recliner for her and that’s where she sleeps. Rarely goes to her room unless to use the bathroom or get dressed. Everyone just goes along with it for her safety and happiness. My gran slept on the couch for years because she didn’t like the smell of grandpas “smokiness” even tho he didn’t smoke in the house. No biggie.
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Freqflyer, yes, we couldn’t blame gran at all. And those were the days when cigarette smoke was more wide spread and tolerated. (Now I can smell the smoke on a piece of paper that a smoker has handled!) I’d be on the couch too.
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The recliner or sofa are more comfortable on bad backs, help in difficult breathing, the bed is flat and a torment.

My mom has dementia and has taken to her recliner and I, that do not have dementia, do have a broken back, unfixable.
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We had an alternating pressure mattress on Mom's recliner. It really helps with prevention of pressure ulcers. Small shifts in their seating helps too. Try foam wedges to change position too. My mom spent all day in the recliner, nights in the hospital bed with the head at a 45 degree angle. Both had alternating pressure pads
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This was part of my mother’s dementia ramp-up, too.

Mom’s living room looked like a hobo camp. The bedroom went untouched. Well, untouched except for Mom’s increasingly deranged relationship with “storage” and “organization.”

One day, Mom would say she sleeps in the living room because the bed aggravated her “bad back.” And woe to anyone who dare suggest she tap into her $500K worth of assets for a new mattress and box spring. Hello, dementia fury!

The next day, Mom would look you in the eye and insist that she sleeps in the bedroom.

Yet another battle that wasn’t worth fighting. Yet another conversation —for lack of a better word — that wasn’t worth having.

Did I mention undiagnosed dementia? Mom was too special (martyr) and too busy (blankly creating piles of mail and catalogs all day) to see a doctor about her steadily-increasing issues.

Nope, Mom didn’t have a problem. The problem was anyone who dared to care about Mom. Anyone who challenged her crazy-town status quo. Anyone who wanted her to be safe and have the full spectrum of care that she needed.

Anyone else here cringe at the word “competent?”

Well, I’m competent, too. Competent enough to insist on a autopsy. Which was my first and last chance to transform 50% of my parental health history from conjecture to facts.
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FF, I'm having a good chuckle visualizing you moving the car jack to the bedroom, getting into running position and sprinting like a pole vaulter to get in the bed, and creating a ladder or something for your cat to get on top of the bed with you.
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