During the early stages of Kate’s journey, I thought “short-term memory” referred to remembering things that occurred yesterday or this morning. As time has passed and her condition has worsened, I am now focused on what is called “immediate memory.” That is just what it sounds like and is very important in coordinating with people. A few minutes ago, I observed a good example of Kate’s very weak immediate memory.
We are at Panera, and she got up to go to the restroom. When she returned, I noticed a label on the pants she is wearing. The pants were inside-out. This surprised me because I had noticed the same thing at home before leaving. She had taken them off and put them back on again. When I mentioned this to her, she went back to the restroom to change. Then she returned again wearing them inside-out. This time I haven’t said anything. I suspect we will go home shortly. I will tell her then so that she can change before we go to lunch.
Another example of weak immediate memory occurred at home before coming to Panera. I had placed her morning pills on the island in the kitchen with a glass of water beside them. I do this almost every day. I thought she had started taking her pills but noticed that she opened the cabinet and took a glass that she was about to fill with water. I told her I had a glass of water on the island with her pills. She turned around to take her pills while I started getting ready to leave. Then I heard her say, “Somebody put salt in this glass.” When I looked up, I saw that she had picked up the glass that I was using to gargle with salt water. I had deliberately put the glass in a spot where I thought she would not see it. I was wrong again. I reminded her of the glass that I had put with the pills. This time she got it.
Perhaps the most common daily example of this involves her clothes. Whether she puts her own clothes out to wear or whether I do it, she frequently forgets them and gets something else to wear.
Her reaction to these things is different now than in the earlier stages of her disease. At that time she expressed more frustration and depression. Now I don’t notice any emotion. I think that occurs for two reasons. The obvious one is that she has no memory of what she has done. The other is that she seems to have reached a point at which she is not as bothered by how others perceived her nor how she perceives herself. I usually don’t say anything to call attention to these things, but sometimes I do. When that happens, she often says something like, “Who cares?” In some ways, I am both surprised and pleased that when I tell her about clothes that are either inside-out or backwards (both of which are very common), she often thanks me.
