After her confusion yesterday morning, Kate remained in bed another hour before getting up. I didn’t see any sign of the confusion I witnessed earlier. In fact, I don’t recall her asking my name or hers the rest of the day. When she was dressed, we went directly to lunch. At lunch, she said something about our being friends. I told her we are very good friends. Then she said, “I thought that we were married.” She had obviously recovered from her confusion.
That is a good illustration of the fact that most changes occur a little bit at a time. She started with occasional slips on the names of acquaintances, then grandchildren’s names. Gradually, they became more frequent. Then it was our children’s names. Now it is mine and her own. Memory comes and goes, and will ultimately disappear completely. She is gradually forgetting that I am her husband. I am hopeful that for a good while she will hold on to her feelings that I am not a stranger but someone she will continue to love and trust.
As we took our table at lunch, I saw a former client and his wife at a nearby table. Kate and I went over to speak to them. When we shook hands, he said, “How are you doing?” The way he asked it sounded as though he knew about Kate’s Alzheimer’s. I gave him my usual response that we are “doing remarkably well.” As we turned to his wife, he said that her cancer had returned. I asked about treatment. She said that she had already had surgery as well as chemotherapy and radiation and decided not to pursue anything further. I suddenly felt a kinship with them that I hadn’t felt before. Her husband said they were taking it a day at a time and enjoying themselves. I told him that is exactly what Kate and I are doing.
Yesterday afternoon, we attended a memorial service for a church friend. Her husband is one of several men I contacted a few years ago to explore interest in getting together periodically. He was the only one who declined. I regretted that because I got the impression from our initial conversation that their situation and ours were very similar. We encountered them occasionally at two of the restaurants we frequent. Today’s service confirmed my belief that we shared a number of things in common. He and his wife were extremely close, and they had been able to enjoy life as we have done. I also recall that her decline had been very gradual like Kate’s. Their son spoke at the service and talked about his mother’s Alzheimer’s. Like us, they did not have to face any challenges of other health issues or personality changes. Although the son mentioned the changes brought on by Alzheimer’s, it was a very upbeat account of his mother’s life and what she had meant to her family.
I hesitated going to the service because I didn’t want Kate to be bothered by anything that might be said. I was thinking of passing references to Alzheimer’s. If I had known how much the son was going to say about his mother’s symptoms, I would not have gone. Fortunately, I don’t think Kate picked up on any of it. After the service, she didn’t say a word about the service or anything that was said. She was just the way she would have been had there not been any mention of Alzheimer’s.
In the last three years, two of the spouses and one of the caregivers with whom I had been in contact died. A week ago, I attended a joint memorial service for a husband and wife, both with Alzheimer’s, who passed away within 6 days of each other.
The passing of these friends and the recurrence of cancer for my client’s wife causes me to think about more about Kate and how long she will be with me. In yesterday’s service, the son mentioned that his mother’s decline had been very gradual until the last few months. I hope that will be the case for Kate. I know she would not want to linger for years. That’s a hard thing for a spouse or other family caregiver to say. When I have heard other caregivers express this sentiment, I have recoiled. Now, I am beginning to understand.
