Kate frequently asks me to tell her my name and the names of our children and grandchildren. Yesterday was different in that it occurred so much. I suspect if we hadn’t had a sitter in the afternoon she would have asked me more times. As we left for Panera yesterday, she said, “What is your name?” She asked again at Panera. She also asked, “Where are we?” That is something else that occurred more often than usual. I often answer, “Knoxville where we have lived for 47 years.” She always expresses surprise about the number of years. This happened several times yesterday. A few times were so close together that even I was surprised she had no recollection of how long we had lived here. She also asked me where she was born.
When we got into bed last night, she said, “Do we have children?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “Two.” She asked me to tell her their names. It was said as if she were testing me and not seeking information for herself. It was clear as we talked that she really couldn’t remember. In a few moments, she asked me to tell her the names of our children again. Then again in another few minutes. When I tell her, she almost always follows that by saying how proud we are of them.
She asks the names of our children far more than any other names. As I have noted before, I take that as a measure of a mother’s love. She loves them dearly and is trying to hold on to their names as Alzheimer’s ravages her brain.
Perhaps because she has slept late recently, she has been quite talkative once we got into bed the past two nights. Her conversation (as it does during the day) focuses on the things she can remember – her mother and father, our marriage, and our children. She finds comfort in talking about these things. She talks mostly about our marriage, about our being well-matched, about our being meant for each other, that she would marry me again if she could, and that we have been so fortunate. I share her feelings. It makes me think of my parents and her parents. It was the same with them.
