Earlier I neglected to report that as we were pulling out of the garage to go to lunch, Kate said, “I’m so frustrated with myself.” This was after several things she had done as she was getting ready to leave. I said, “I know you are frustrated.” Then I asked her if she would like to talk about it. She said no as she always does. She just doesn’t like to talk about her Alzheimer’s.
A few minutes ago as she was coming into the bedroom for the night, she said she wanted to thank me. She said she was falling apart and appreciated my taking care of her. I said, “I know you’re frustrated. I want to help you.” She said, “That means a lot, that you want to do it, and I know you do.” When she says something like this, it makes me want to do all the more to help her. On the other hand, I can find it frustrating myself when she won’t let me help. For example, I wanted to give her a Benadryl this morning. She asked if it would make her sleepy. I told her it would. She didn’t want to take it. This afternoon she has been having more trouble with her nose. I told her I was going to give her a Benadryl before she went to bed and that I wish that I had gotten her to take one earlier. She agreed, but earlier she didn’t want to take it. It is hard to know what to do, when to push and when to back away.
