Yesterday Kate was again up early enough for us to get to Panera and then have lunch before going to a memorial service for a church friend. Later in the day we spent a little time at Panera before going for our weekly pizza.
In previous posts, I have noted that she is asking for help with my name, her name, and our children’s names more frequently than she has done in the past. That was certainly true yesterday. As we left for Panera yesterday morning, she said, “What is your name?” I told her, and then she asked for her name. While at Panera, she asked my name and tried to repeat it back to me. She couldn’t and ask me to tell her again. We did this several times before stopping. It came up again at several other times of the day.
I didn’t think much about it, and we had a pleasant day. As we went to bed last night, this took a different direction. I moved close to her and put my arm around her. Then she asked, “Who are you?” I wasn’t sure whether she wanted my name or that I am her husband and said, “My name is Richard Creighton, and I am your husband.” She said, “We’re married?” I told her we were, and she asked, “Do we have children?” I told her we did, and she asked their names. She asked me where are. I told her Knoxville and that we had lived here 47 years.
Then she said, “My memory is going. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t remember anything.” That was a moment when I could have reminded her that she has Alzheimer’s. I decided not to do that. Instead I said, “Remembering things gets harder as we get older. I will help you remember.” She said, “I know you will. I’m going to get my memory back.” I said, “We’ve been married for 55 years, and we have always helped each other. I want you to know that you can count on me.”
Then I told her that I had started to write down things to refresh her memory about the things we had done during our 55 years together. She liked that. Then she said, “I want to do just a little bit at a time.” I told her we would take it slow and easy.
We must have talked 30-45 minutes going over the same things. This was not like the anxiety attacks she has had. Except for her words, and, at one point, a few tears, she was very calm and seemed to have a determined attitude about getting her memory back. She repeatedly said, “I’m going to get my memory back with your help.” Several times she also said, “I feel encouraged knowing that you are going to help me. We’re going to do this.”
Until now, I had thought she might not be able to sense how much of her memory she was losing and, thus, would not be disturbed at all. That is the way it has appeared to me even as she has asked me over and over for help with names and places. I am beginning to see her quiet determination to remember things. Last night’s conversation was the most serious one we have had about her Alzheimer’s. Even this one did not involve our talking specifically about that, but it went directly to the heart of her problem – her memory. She recognizes it. It disturbs her, and she is determined to recover.
Everyone talks about the importance of hope in our lives. Last night, she expressed hope that she could get better. I couldn’t tell her she has Alzheimer’s. That could have dashed her hopes of a recovery. I hope I’ve made the right decision.
It is now 9:40. Kate is still asleep. I can’t help wondering how she will feel this morning. Will she remember anything about last night’s conversation? Will we have another conversation like last night. I’ll just have to wait and see. I do plan to show her what I have written to go in her “Memory Book” I started this week. I don’t have much, but I know that she doesn’t like to be bombarded with information. As she said last night, “I want to do just a little bit at a time.”
I believe I have handled the progression of her disease as well as, or better, than anyone might expect. The hardest part is watching her decline. That is even more painful when I see that she is disturbed by what is happening to her. Last night was clearly our most painful moment during this journey.
