This is a question I would like to explore in another post. It’s too late to start answering a question like this tonight. Let me simply mention something that happened today that prompted my query.
As Kate and I walked to our car after saying goodbye to our son, Kevin, his wife Rachel, and their son (our grandson), Brian, Kate asked, “Who is that boy?” I said, “That’s Brian.” She said, “Who are his parents?” I said, “Kevin and Rachel.” What makes this intriguing is that she had just spent almost two hours with a group of about a dozen family members including Brian and his parents (our son and his wife). We had also had lunch with them yesterday. In anticipation of our seeing them, I had mentioned Brian several times during the trip preceding yesterday’s lunch. Each time she was puzzled and asked, “Who are his parents?” Each time I explained.
I am fairly confident that when she was with Brian and his parents that she had a sense of who he is. It seems equally clear that when she asks the question, she does not know who he is. We normally think about an Alzheimer’s patient as either knowing or knowing others. This experience suggests to me that knowing is more than that. It’s a continuum. I think this deserves further exploration.
