Quite a while ago I mentioned that Kate had asked me never to use “that word ‘remember.'” I feel like I have tried to honor this request, but I have failed miserably. It is amazing how conditioned I (we) have become to automatically saying that when someone fails to remember something we told them. Normally this is not a big problem, but with someone who has AD, it is. That is because there are so many instances of forgetting something that has happened or something you have told them. It seems particularly difficult because for a long time, the person does remember so many things. These instances of remembering reinforce that the person is normal. Our expectations then are that she should remember everything.
I have been unusually sensitive to this pattern in recent months, but I continue to say, “Don’t you remember?” or “I told you . . .” When I do this, I feel guilty because I know it is a constant reminder that she cannot remember. At least she does not ask me not to say this. I feel confident she does not remember telling me not to say this. Last night was one of those moments of confusion. I had reminded her the day before that I had a meeting of the executive committee of our music club at 6:30 pm and that it might be a long meeting since the first one had been long. I must admit that I was never too specific about this; so it may have been clearer in my mind than hers. Nevertheless, she thought I would be home much earlier than I was and got worried. She had envisioned that we would spend a quiet evening together following all the activity of the past few days. The reality was that I didn’t get home until 8:30, and we still hadn’t eaten dinner.
As I have said before, this forgetfulness is getting worse. It makes me wonder when the children and others will notice. I suspect we will get along without revealing her forgetfulness when we are with our children at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but next summer in Jackson Hole for a week is another thing. I hope for Kate’s sake, they don’t notice.
Another issue that Kate is facing (and I along with her) is a loss of self-confidence. She is learning not to trust herself because she knows she makes so many mistakes. Last evening her computer was not working after she had supposedly charged it. I asked her to bring me the power cord. When I tried to plug it into the computer, it wouldn’t go in all the way. I got mine, and we charged it. This morning I looked at her power cord to see if I could identify the problem. When I did, I discovered that the slim metal connector in the tip of the cord was bent. A couple of months ago we had to buy another power cord because the first one was broken. This happened because Kate lies in bed or sits in a chair with the power cord attached. The way she holds the computer it often presses up or down on the end of the cord that is attached to the computer causing the connection to fail. When I found the problem this morning, I was able to straighten out the slim metal connector, and it worked. I reminded her how that happens. She said she already knew and looked hurt because I was telling her. I said, “I know it seems like I am always correcting you. I’m sorry.” Then I said, “It must seem like everyone is always correcting you.” She nodded yes. To me this is a further indication of the small ways in which she is feeling less confident and confused about things.