Yesterday I mentioned the sadness that accompanies special holidays, events, or occasions that one believes might be the last ones. They are not the only sad moments. There are plenty of others. I had one of those yesterday afternoon. It was almost 3:00 when Kate and I came back to the house after lunch. For a short time she looked at one of her photo books that she and her brother Ken had made for her mother’s family. I was glad to see her pick it up and sat down with her. It’s been a week or two since she had looked at any of her photo books. With her memory fading quickly, I was interested in seeing how well this one brought back memories. I was pleased that she was often able to recognize her various family members, especially her mother, father, and grandmother. It wasn’t long before she said she was tired and wanted to lie down. An hour later, I asked if she would like to get out of the house for a while. She did and got up to go to the bathroom.
I went to the laundry room to transfer clothes from the washer to the dryer. In a few minutes, I heard her say, “Hey.” This is becoming her common way of calling for me now that my name is slipping away. Until the last few weeks, she has been calling my name. I walked into the family room. She was standing there pointing to her wet pants. She didn’t say a word. She was like a little child who might have had the same experience. She just wanted me to help her. I felt so sad. Although she has had accidents around the toilet, this was her first experience when she was fully dressed. I said, “It looks like you had a little accident, but we can take care of that. Come with me.” She followed me to the bathroom where she took off her clothes, again with my help as one might do with a child. Then I got her some clean clothes. She thanked me. I told I wanted her to count on me anytime she needs help. This is the kind of experience I find the hardest to deal with. I don’t like seeing this disease bring her to her knees like this.
I had one other sad moment last night as she was getting ready for bed. She asked, “Who are you?” I told her I was her husband and that I loved her. I added, “And you love me too.” She could not believe either of these things. I went to the family room and got a photo book with our wedding pictures. I showed her several of her with her father and with me. She was convinced. Then she said, “What is your name?” Her memory of me is fading more quickly now and will soon be gone.
I hasten to add that she is remains very comfortable with me. She still mentions the good times we have had. It is clear that her memory comes and goes throughout the day. It’s not just a period of confusion in the morning. It’s almost like someone turns a switch on and off at random times. I am grateful for those moments when she does know who I am, but know what lies ahead.
