Just as I was about to think I would have to wake her again this morning, Kate walked into the family room dressed and ready for Panera. We arrived ten minutes ago, and she is well into her muffin. This should be about perfect timing for us to get to lunch around 11:45 and still leave us a little time before leaving for her doctor’s appointment at 2:00.
When she met me in the family room, she was carrying a pair of black pants, black socks, and an almost completely used roll of toilet paper. She brought all three with her to the car. She asked me to wait a minute before I back out of the garage. She was holding the toilet paper and said, “I want to put these on.” She had obviously thought the toilet paper was a pair of socks. With a puzzled look on her face, she put it down and picked up the black socks. She is wearing dark tan pants and shoes that are a light tan, almost yellow. I could tell she didn’t like the idea of wearing black socks and asked her if she would like me to get her another pair of socks. She said yes, and I went back in the house.
I came back with a pair of lightweight, beige socks that are a little heavier than hose. She approved. Teasing me, she said, “I didn’t think you could do it.” Teasing her, I said, “Aren’t you worried about hurting my ego?” She responded, “Your ego could use a little of that.” I get a kick out of her playfulness. She was never like this before Alzheimer’s. This kind of interaction has been beneficial to us in the past few years.
