It’s 10:15, and were sitting here at Panera. Kate was up early enough for us to get here by 9:30. Of course, that makes me happy because today is another day for the sitter. I want to spend as much time with her as I can. To top it off, Kate is in a very cheerful mood. That certainly gives me a boost. It continues to amaze me how much that offsets the sadness that I might otherwise feel when I see all the changes that accompany this stage of her Alzheimer’s.
Some of those changes make caring for her easier than in the past. In particular, I am thinking about managing her clothing. She is much more compliant than in the past. That relates to her increasing dependence on me. For example, we got home from Panera around 5:00 yesterday afternoon. I planned for us to leave the house for dinner at Casa Bella at 5:30. The attire for their music nights is informal, but I felt that both of us should change into something a little nicer than what we had been wearing all day. Past experience led me to be concerned about suggesting that she change clothes. That was especially true last night. I wanted her to change her top, pants, and shoes. I approached this carefully saying, “We have a little time before we leave for dinner. I thought it might be nice if we changed clothes.” She said, “Okay” without any concern or question. I had already picked out what I wanted her to wear and brought it to her. She changed clothes without a problem. She looked terrific. The top I had picked out was one I had bought several months ago. I had tried to get her to wear it previously, but she thought it was too dressy.
Our dinner and the music was terrific last night. Kate enjoyed herself although she is talking less and less in situations like this. We were seated at a table for 8. When the singers were not on, the conversation was lively. I didn’t see any sign that Kate was bothered by this. I think the music made the difference. If we had been at dinner for 2 ½ hours without it, she would have been very bored. I wouldn’t have blamed her. I would feel very alone if I were in a group of people I didn’t know and couldn’t remember anything to talk about.
This makes me think of my mom who had dementia. My dad took her with him almost everywhere long after she engaged in conversation. I didn’t really think about it then. I know much more now that I wish I had known then. I do believe we treated her the right way. We expressed our love for her, and we considered her a part of all gatherings up to the time of her death. Today is their anniversary. Sixteen years ago, we celebrated their 70th anniversary at our home. She died less than a month later.
I also think of my dad. I have done that frequently as I have learned to care for Kate. He was quite a model of a husband who devoted himself to caring for his wife. He did it with very little help. He took her to day care every Wednesday morning while he attended Kiwanis and ran errands. The only other help was from me. That was primarily remaining in almost daily contact and providing evening meals. Otherwise, he was on his own. I should add that it was his own choice. My brother, Larry, and I tried to bring in help or get him to move to assisted living. He fought it and won.
Now Kate and I are traveling the same road. I think we are also handling the situation well. I am comforted by the belief that we will continue to enjoy the days ahead even as life changes for us. Already I am beginning to adapt to Kate’s not knowing her way around the house. It was somewhat shocking when I noticed the first signs. Now, it is becoming routine. When we got home last night, she very naturally asked me where the bathroom is. Just as naturally, I took her.
Before leaving the house this morning, I went to our bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned, I couldn’t find her. I called her name, and heard her respond but didn’t immediately locate her. I followed the sound of her voice and found her in the living room. She was waiting for me. That is unusual. Like many people these days, we almost never use our living room and keep the doors to the front of the house closed most of the time. She obviously didn’t know where to go and wandered there waiting for me to find her. That is a change from her usual behavior. Normally, she goes to the car and waits for me there.
Her loss of memory for the rooms in the house is sad, but as I said before, her cheerfulness and the good times we have more than balance the sad times.
