Not long after we sat down for lunch yesterday, Kate said, “Tell me my father’s name.” I gave her his full name. The she asked for her mother’s name. Once again, I gave her the full name. Unlike the other day, I believe she really knew the answers and also believed I knew them. I think she was just leading into a way to talk about the names of people and places she is beginning to forget. I asked her to tell me our daughter’s name. She got it as well as her husband’s name. She stumbled on her boys’ names, but when I said Ron, she immediately said Randy. We did the same with our son’s family. When I told her that Kevin and Rachel have three children, she looked surprised and said, “Three?” I gave her the names of all three.
Following the family part of the name game, she asked, “Where are we right now?” I told her we were at Carla’s. It turned out she wanted to know what city we were in. I said, “We’re in the city where our home is located.” She said, “Where is that?” I told her and didn’t go any further. Even though I know her memory is fading, I find myself surprised when I come face to face with examples like this. I wish it weren’t so.
Later in the afternoon, we spent some time at Barnes & Noble. Before leaving, she wanted to use the restroom. It is located about 60-70 feet and to the right of where we were sitting. She asked me to tell her where it is. I suggested that I take her. At first, she didn’t want me to. Then she quickly changed her mind. She went ahead of me and I took a seat on a bench directly across from the women’s room 15 feet away. I saw her walking back toward me. She said she couldn’t find it. I showed her the door a few feet behind her. She had walked by it twice without seeing it. These things confirm what I already know, that I need to stay close to her even in places like this where we are a closed space. It would be even worse in a mall or the Atlanta Airport where I lost her for 35 minutes on our recent trip to Texas.