Kate slept unusually late this morning. I decided that given the flu, rest would be a good thing. I checked on her just after 11:30. She was still sleeping soundly. That gave me plenty of time to have my breakfast, wash, dry, and fold two loads of clothes, as well as checking the morning email and spending time on my blog.
In addition to rest, I know that she is supposed to get her Tamiflu approximately every 12 hours. That led me to wake her at noon. When I got to the bedroom, I saw that she was already up. I went back to the kitchen which serves as my office. I continued to work on another blog entry on social isolation that I will probably post on Monday while waiting for Kate to get ready.
Kate finally walked into the kitchen about 1:15 not knowing at all what time it was but ready to go. She was a little grumpy. In a cheerful tone of voice, I told her I was so glad to see her, and I wasn’t going to do anything to upset her day. She smiled. I gave her a hug, and she was fine. I had already decided to skip Panera and go straight to lunch at Bluefish. It was 2:00 when we sat down at a table. By this time I was already getting an impression that we were both making steady progress recovering from the flu. Except for having slept so long as well as several times she coughed, Kate seems back to normal. I also feel better but know that I still need another day or to before I am where she is now.
We left the restaurant at 3:05. I knew that Kate would not want to spend the rest of the afternoon at home; so I had brought our iPads and cups planning to go directly to Barnes & Noble. That is where we are now. Before settling down at my iPad, I had one of those experiences that every parent knows about but might not think of in connection with a person with dementia and her caregiver.
I selected a table for the two of us and gave Kate her iPad while I got her a passion fruit tea with lemonade. I returned to the table with her cup. Then I took out my iPad. Before I could start, she asked me where the bathroom was. It is located off the main area; so I don’t feel comfortable letting her go or return on her own. I closed my iPad and carried hers and mine as I led her to the restroom. I waited right outside and brought her back when she had finished.
This kind of shift from one thing to another is not a big deal, but it happens so often that it can be a problem for the caregiver. I should note that sometimes I can predict such things. In fact, this was one of those times. I had thought of asking her about going to the restroom at the restaurant. Then I thought I would wait until we arrived at Barnes & Noble. That plan failed when I forgot to do it. It’s another illustration that as a caregiver, I am frequently making these kinds of mistakes. There is just so much to remember.
