Kate was sleeping soundly when I woke her this morning. I put on some music, but she continued to sleep, so I went into the room and sat down on the bed beside her. She opened her eyes but didn’t say anything. I asked if she would like me to take her to lunch. She nodded. I sat there a few moments. Then we had the following conversation.
KATE: “What’s your name?”
RICHARD: “Richard Creighton.”
KATE: “Richard Creighton.” (pause) “Say it again.”
RICHARD: “Richard Creighton.”
KATE: “Richard Creighton.” (pause) “Who are you?”
RICHARD: “I’m your husband.”
After another moment or two:
KATE: “Where am I?”
RICHARD: “At home in your bed.”
KATE: “Where’s my home?”
RICHARD: “Knoxville, Tennessee.”
Shortly after that, she got up and is now taking her shower.
I relate this incident to convey just how much of her memory she has lost in the past few months. There is something else. I am amazed at how well she adapts to having so little memory. Except for several attacks of anxiety mentioned in other posts, I haven’t noticed any display of anguish. That doesn’t mean I haven’t observed anything else that might be a symptom of her concern. Day before yesterday, she was quiet most of the time I was with her (until bedtime when she was talkative). When she has her quiet moments, I wonder what she is thinking. Is she thinking about herself and what she can’t remember? Is she wondering what is the matter with her? I suspect so. She is very perceptive and insightful. I am still surprised when she makes comments about me that are very much on target. She can’t remember my name. Sometimes she doesn’t recall that I am her husband, but she has a good grasp of who I am in terms of personality. She knows my OCD tendencies. She has always been a good observer of her own qualities. That makes me think that she may be suffering more inside than she lets on.
