If I didn’t already know that it’s possible to find joy in living with Alzheimer’s, I would be a believer now. Last night, Kate and I had the most incredible experience. It’s one I never would have imagined. Before going further, I should tell you that it can also be viewed through the lens of sadness, but it was pure joy for Kate. Because of that, it was a moment of joy for me as well, and it lasted more than an hour.
As we returned from dinner, Kate commented on a neighbor’s house. She said, “I remember that.” Our house is two doors down. I turned into our drive and parked in the garage. When Kate got out of the car, she looked at the trees at the back of the house and walked out of the garage to look more closely. She loves looking at the trees, ours and everyone else’s. Instead of turning around and heading toward the door from our garage to the laundry room, she turned toward the driveway back to the street. She suddenly realized she was going the wrong direction and said, “Where am I going?” I walked over to her. She pointed to our patio and said she just wanted to look around for a few minutes. She loved everything she saw. She commented on the patio itself, the arrangement of the furniture, the swimming pool, and the landscaping. It was as though this were the first time she had seen any of these things. In a minute, I suggested we go inside. She said, “Is it all right?” I told her it would be fine.
We spent the next hour going through every room in the house. As she had done outside, she commented on everything – the rooms themselves, the furniture (some of which I explained was from her parents home), the photos and artwork. She loved everything, even the laundry room that is pretty much like any ordinary room between the garage and kitchen. She was particularly struck by the family room. We walked around it for a while. Then she wanted to go into the living room. She was taken with a wedding picture of our daughter, Jesse, and her own wedding picture that was taken in her parents’ home. From there we entered the dining room. She loved seeing a portrait of her mother as a young girl and another of her grandfather on her mother’s side. We went through a door into the kitchen where she continued to be taken with everything she saw. In several rooms she commented about their not looking pretentious but representing a particular period. After leaving the kitchen, she wanted to go back to the living room, so we did. She apparently hadn’t remembered that we had just come from there. She expressed an equal measure of enthusiasm the second time around.
When we got to our bedroom and bath she said, “I would love to stay here tonight, but I know we can’t.” When I told her we could, she was thrilled. We continued to the other rooms. She loved each one. This was very similar to a surreal experience I mentioned a week or two ago. She mixed things that made sense with those that didn’t. There were times when it was clear that she remembered its being our house but not the one we are living in now, one that we had lived in sometime in the past. At other times, it appeared that she thought this was her family home. She specifically mentioned its meaning so much because it was a place that meant so much to her family.
Toward the end of our tour, she was very emotional. Tears welled up in her eyes as I’ve seen a number of times lately, in fact, just the previous night at Casa Bella. She said, “I am so glad we could experience this together.” I told her I felt the same way. She was so very confused, but she was also very happy.
When we finished, she wanted to relax in the family room. I put on some music, and she began to work on a puzzle on her iPad. It took her a little while to become fully focused on her puzzles. She kept looking around the room and commenting on things she liked.
As I said earlier, one could think of this experience as a sad one, and I understand that. How I wish she didn’t have this disease, but no one has figured a way to get around that. I am just grateful that we can share joyful moments like this one. We have many more good times than bad ones, but last night was very special for both of us. Living in her world really pays dividends.
