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Our Easter

Since our friend Ellen had her stroke almost four years ago, Easter has been a bit different for us. For years she hosted her church choir for lunch at her house. That is now a thing of the past, and we have replaced that custom by eating at a restaurant. That makes it pretty much the same as other days.

The day started slowly when Kate didn’t want to get up. That is the second time in the past three days. She insisted that I go without her, but I told her I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her. This comes at the same time she is beginning to rest a little more in the afternoon.

We went to lunch at a place that has an Easter buffet. That has become more difficult for her, but I seated her before going to the buffet to get her food. This required two trips as it is a bit cumbersome for me to maneuver two plates around the four or five different serving tables and then back to our own. In addition, it required me to leave Kate while I went to a separate room where the buffet was located. The meal was good, but I don’t think I will do this again. It is much easier to go where there is wait service.

Kate was in a good mood despite her not wanting to get up. That’s one of the good things about memory loss. She quickly forgets moments like this. As we were eating, she said, “What’s your name?” I said, “Richard Creighton.” She repeated it. Then I said “And I’m your husband.” She gave me a dirty look and said, “I know that.” A few minutes later, she asked, “Are  we married?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “I thought so.”

We went home after lunch. Kate said she wanted to rest and remained in bed for almost three hours. By then, it was close to dinner time. As we drove out of the driveway to the restaurant, she said, “I like this place, but I’m ready to go home.” I said, “It’s always nice to be at home.”

As we approached the restaurant, Kate said, “Are you married?” I said, “Are you?” She said, “No.” She said, “Are you?” I said, “Yes. I married a sweet gal named Kate Franklin.” Kate said, “So we are married?” I asked how she felt about that. She said she was fine. I said, “That’s good because we’ve been married a long time.” Since we were close to the restaurant, we didn’t pursue it further.

On the way back, she said, “What can I do when we get home?” For the first time, it struck me that she said “home.” I hadn’t thought about it before, but I usually feel that she doesn’t know where we are or where we are going. I think I am right most of the time, but we do go directly home after eating meals. That must be stored deep within her memory.  I suggested that we look at one of her photo books. She thought that was a good idea, and we spent well over an hour looking at one of her father’s family. She enjoyed every minute but was getting tired. We adjourned to the bedroom where she worked on her iPad until it was time to go to bed. I have had to encourage her to get to bed many nights lately, but that wasn’t necessary this time.

Even though she was in bed a good portion of the entire day, we enjoyed ourselves. After we were in bed, we talked briefly about the day and agreed it had been a good one.

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The Fickle Nature of Memory

The other night at Casa Bella I saw a woman who has been a regular the entire time we have been going to their music nights. For the first time she was without her husband. I saw her afterward and asked about him. She told me he is now in memory care. I was surprised. I’ve seen him about once a month for the past four or five years. How could I have missed that?

By now, I should know. It’s not really hard at all. Even at this late stage, Kate can get along quite well in short-term social encounters without anyone’s suspecting. The nature of most social interactions is so superficial that it’s easy to miss a “disability” that has so little or no visible signs.

As Kate’s husband, I have far more opportunity to observe the many signs that others can’t see. That makes me think of something that can be hard for others to understand. That is the surprising way in which she can switch from “knowing” to “not knowing.” One of the best examples is the issue of her “knowing” me. In a couple of months it will be a year since she first asked my name. It would easy to think that she had “forgotten” my name, that it was completey forgotten it. That wasn’t so, and it isn’t so with other memory problems.

All of us have similar experiences. We forget one moment, but we remember in another. We don’t think much about it. I believe that is why people don’t ordinarily think they may have dementia in the early stages. As time passes, the memory problems become more frequent and enduring. That’s when they take on new meaning, especially for the person herself and those close to her.

My experience with Kate has made me realize how little I knew about my mother’s dementia. I was with her a lot, but not nearly enough to understand the full extent of her problems. My father said very little. That meant I was largely ignorant of what was really going on.

Living with Alzheimer’s through Kate has opened my eyes to many things. One of those is how memory comes and goes although the trajectory is always in the direction of less ability to remember. Kate is at a stage when her memory doesn’t usually last more than a few seconds. Even then, her memory is inconsistent. What I mean is that at one moment she can remember a name. In another, she forgets it, and quickly thereafter remembers again.

Last night she put down her iPad. Suspecting that she might have gotten frustrated with it, I asked if she would like to look at one of her family photo albums. She liked the idea, and I brought her the “Big Sister Album.”

As I handed it to her, she noticed the cover photo of her and her brother. She loves that photo and almost always comments on their smiles. This time she didn’t say anything. She took a moment to look at it. Many times she recognizes both children. Other times she doesn’t. She said, “Is that me?” I told her it was. She pointed to her brother and said, “Who’s that?” I told her it was her brother Ken. Then she looked at the photo more carefully and did comment on the smiles. She was hooked.

I was about to take a shower and thought this would occupy her until I got out. I discovered, however, that she had difficulty reading the text and couldn’t recognize her family. She wanted me to help her. It wasn’t a complete failure to recognize her parents, her brother, or grandmother. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she didn’t. That could relate to the photos themselves. Some are sharper than others, and sometimes people can look a little different from different angles or when they are in different contexts.

In this case, I don’t know exactly why. I do know that her vision is affected by her Alzheimer’s. I also suspect that her memory of faces is becoming more limited as well. I also know that the loss of her rational ability prevents her from making connections that would help her guess the people in many of the photos. You and I would understand that the odds are pretty high that they would be of her parents, her grandmother, her brother, or herself. She doesn’t appear to recognize that.

I did get in a quick shower, but we spent about forty minutes going through the album. I recorded about five minutes of that time. Here are a few examples.

Richard:        “That is your Nana, and look who she’s with.”

Kate:              “Me.”

Richard:        (Pointing to Ken) “Who else is there?”

Kate:              “And who’s that?”

Richard:        “That’s Ken.”

Kate:              (Very excited.) “That’s Ken? My brother.”

Richard:        “Yes, your brother.”

Kate:              (Chuckles with excitement like a little child)

Richard:        “Now who do you think these three are?”

Kate:              “I don’t know.”

Richard:        “Those are you.”

Kate:              (pointing) “That’s me?”

Richard:        “Each one of those is you.”

Kate:              “That one too?”

Richard:        “That’s you on a tricycle.”

A Page Later

Kate:              “Oooh. That’s wonderful.”

Richard:        “Who do you think those people are?”

Kate:              “My daddy and me. . . Look each one is happy, especially me.”

We moved further through the book. We saw many more pictures of her father and her mother. Early on, she asked me their names. Each time she would repeat them. Sometimes the very next picture was her father. She would say, “Who’s that?” I would tell her, and she would ask, “What’s his name?” I would tell her, and we would go to the next picture and repeat the same questions. Not always, but sometimes. It makes me wonder what triggers memory and what causes it to disappear as rapidly as it appeared. That’s something I’ll probably never know.

I see these kind of things a good portion of every day. The servers we see in restaurants or the friends we bump into or almost anyone else we encounter on a daily basis would never know. In fact, there is much I don’t know myself. For example, I wonder how long Kate was struggling with my name before she finally asked me. I suspect she might have had some hesitation the first time. Now it is as natural to ask her name or mine as breathing air.

I believe there is something else captured in the conversation above. That is how happy she is. It is obviously saddening to see her stumble over names, but the excitement she experiences as she goes through her album offsets the sadness. I hope she is able to maintain this spirit for a long time. I know that I’m going to do everything I can to help.

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Brief Conversation This Morning

Kate had just returned from the bathroom and got into bed. I pulled the covers over her and kissed her on the cheek. That led to the following conversation.

Richard:        “I love you.”

Kate:             “I love you too. <pause> And I don’t even know who you are.”

Richard:        “I’m Richard Creighton, and I’m your husband.”

Kate:              “What?”

Richard:        “I’m your husband. What do you think of that?”

Kate didn’t say anything. She just smiled and closed her eyes. I’ll take that as a positive sign.

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Emotions

Most of the time since her diagnosis, Kate has been more sensitive to a number of things than she was in the past. For example, she was more easily frightened. I learned rather quickly to say, “Hello, I’m home.” as soon as I came in the house after being away. She has also been bothered by loud noises, especially sudden ones. Now that I have become more aware of the importance of her intuitive abilities, I am also paying more attention to her emotional responses to almost everything.

As a result, I have noticed a significant change in her emotions as she loses more of her rational abilities. She expresses her emotions in a stronger way than she used to. Here are several examples.

Since we eat out all the time, I notice this most often in restaurants. It’s not the general noise level. It’s the sudden noises that occur. The most typical example would be in a place like Panera where one of the employees comes around to pick up all the dirty dishes. He makes noise as he stacks them. The other night at Bonefish we were seated near the bar when the bartender knocked over a couple of glasses. Kate responded with a loud noise of her own. Several people at the surrounding tables took note. I told them she was all right. It could have been a time for one of my Alzheimer’s cards, but I didn’t think this situation called for that. Kate loves children, but sometimes they squeal or cry. She jumps and makes her own noise that is usually audible for those nearby. All of these things have been an issue for a long time. She is even more sensitive now, and her responses are more noticeable to others.

She is frightened by other things as well. She is very cautious when we walk up and over curbs and across streets and parking lots. One of the restaurants we frequent has a flagstone walkway leading to the restaurant. She often takes my hand and comments about how “dangerous” it is. On several occasions in a restaurant, she has mentioned how dangerous a welcome mat is. I think the big issue is her eyesight. I think she has a problem with her depth perception and thinks the shapes and colors represent different heights rather than being flat or close to it.

Other things generate more positive responses. Kate’s interest in children has increased lately. She almost always stops to say hello to the children she sees. A typical situation would be on our way in or out of a restaurant. In both cases, I usually lead the way. I look back frequently to make sure she is still with me. Often I see that she has stopped to talk with a child. She always tells the parents how adorable the child is. Like other things, this is not new except for the intensity of the emotion that she expresses.

As large a role as music has played in our lives, Kate seems to get even more pleasure now. I notice this most when we are in the car. After leaving Casa Bella the other night, I played a CD of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5. The first movement ended as we got home. On the way to lunch the next day, I played the second movement. We hadn’t heard but a few notes, and she said, “Oh, that is so beautiful.” It is beautiful, but this immediate response is something I would never have expected before. I’m not even sure that she recognized the piece. Of course, I am learning that her memory for music is far greater than I had thought. I am amazed at her recognition of so many pieces of popular music, including some lyrics, from the 50s and 60s.

I have alluded to her audible responses to music we hear at live performances like those at Casa Bella. The other night she reacted audibly to almost every song. She wasn’t loud. Only those sitting next to her or across from her could hear, but I keep wondering if this might become a problem in the future. It’s not a problem at Casa Bella since all of the people with whom we sit are aware of her Alzheimer’s. It could be a problem elsewhere.

Two other examples of her more intense emotional reactions occurred during the past week or two. One of those involved the fire at Notre Dame. The first time I mentioned it to her she had a strong reaction to the news. It looked as though tears were about to flow. Later she caught some of the TV news. By that time, she and I had talked about it several times. She never remembered from one time to the next. Each time, whether the source was the news or our conversation, she was quite moved.

Another illustration involves her parents and occurred in two different situations. When she has asked about her parents, I have never tried to hide the fact that they died some time ago. On at least two occasions recently, she has been very sad when I told her. That has led me to be more careful. When she asks where her parents are, I usually say, “In Fort Worth.” There are other times I tell her “they are gone, but they lived long and happy lives.” So far that seems to work. When she talks about them as if they are alive, I don’t tell her otherwise.

The other times she has an emotional reaction to them is when looking at one of her photo albums. In these cases, she is not sad because they are no longer alive. Her response is sign of her love for them. Sometimes she responds to me in a similar way when I tell her I love her. She gets a sad look on her face and tears well up in her eyes.

Alzheimer’s has definitely made her more emotional in her reactions. The fortunate thing is that she has not exhibited the kinds of emotional reactions that people sometimes associate with dementia. She has had moments of irritability that are unlike her, but I haven’t seen the slightest indication of anger or violent behavior. On the contrary, she frequently apologizes after she has said something that is a more irritable response than is characteristic of her.

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Growing Confusion

I can’t say that I am observing any new symptoms of Kate’s Alzheimer’s; however, I sense that she is sinking deeper into confusion. The things I report below may sound familiar to you. Just try to imagine that the way she looks and the way she says things suggest something more serious than before.

One of those things is a more consistent failure to realize she is at home. She is routinely ready to take her toothbrush and toothpaste whenever we leave the house. I think she believes we are leaving a hotel. It is becoming commonplace for her to ask where we are when she wakes up.

It also involves an increase in the frequency with which she doesn’t know I am her husband as well as the length of time it takes for her to accept that I am. As we walked from the car to the restaurant for lunch day before yesterday, she said, “Who are you?” I said, “Richard Creighton.” She said, “I know that. Who are you?” I said, “I’m your husband.” She said, “Oh.” There was no other indication of surprise, uneasiness, or enthusiasm. She got the information she wanted and accepted it. While we were eating, she said, “Are you the owner of this place?” I don’t think I have mentioned this before, but she often attributes things to me with which I have no connection. The most common one occurs when we are listening to music in the car. She often says, “Is that you singing?”

At lunch yesterday, she asked my name and then hers. Then she asked, “Who are you?” When I told her, she didn’t believe me. I decided to tell her about our first date and our courtship while I was working at the funeral home. As I recited these experiences she began recognize them. Then I told her we would celebrate our fifty-sixth anniversary next month. I don’t mean to suggest that all her memories came back. It was just enough for her to accept that we are married. Then she asked if we have children.

She is much needier now. She is comfortable with Mary, our sitter; however, when I arrived home that same afternoon, Kate was especially glad to see me. She asked where we were and wanted to get away. She was was relieved when I told her we were at home. I don’t think she feels as comfortable asking Mary where she is.

On the way to dinner that night, she told me she really needs me. She has said this many times before, but it seems different now. Her facial and vocal expressions convey a greater need than the way she used to say it.

The other night after dinner, she wanted to know what to do. This, too, is becoming more common. I told her she could work on puzzles while I watched the news. She did that for almost an hour. Then she got frustrated. I suggested she look at her “Big Sister” photo album. She did for a while but stopped when I put on a DVD of Les Miserables.

Last night as we walked along the sidewalk to Casa Bella, she said something nice that prompted me to remind her that we have been together a long time. She asked how long. I told her almost 56 years since our wedding. She gave me a funny look and said, “Whose wedding?” I repeated that it was ours. She said, “No. You shouldn’t even joke about that.” This time I didn’t try to convince her as I did earlier at lunch.

There are lots of little things that suggest her increasing dependence. One of those is wanting to hold my hand more often than in the past. She frequently says, “I don’t need to, but I feel better.” She also wants my hand to help her in and out of the car and accepts my help buckling her seat belt. During dinner last night, she repeatedly asked me if her iced tea and water was hers. This is not new, but it is more frequent now. She is unsure of what is hers and what is someone else’s. She recognizes that she makes mistakes and doesn’t want to drink one that belongs to another person.

I have been eager to celebrate the many good times we’ve had since Kate’s diagnosis. I’ve also tried to be honest about the problems we have faced. We still have many good moments, but there is no escaping what lies ahead. It saddens me deeply to watch her slowly drift away like this, but I am heartened by hearing from others about precious moments with their loved ones who are farther along on this journey than Kate. In addition, I feel a greater resolve to make the rest of her life as fulfilling as I can.

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An Unusual Start This Morning

I was taking my walk around the house this morning when I noticed Kate start to get out of bed. That was about 7:15. I went to the bedroom. She sat up straight and said, “Good Morning!” She had a big smile on her face and seemed unusually alert. She sounded as though she had been awake and up for quite a while. Of course, I knew she hadn’t. I walked to her side of the bed. She reached her hand out for mine to lift her into a sitting position with her feet hanging over the side of the bed. She said, “You know it’s funny.” Then she paused as she tried to think of what she wanted to say. I wish I could remember exactly what she said, but here is the gist of it.

She began to talk about school children. She said they are really smart, and they know they are smart. She said they wanted to learn. At first, she appeared to be talking about learning in general, but she moved into her specialty as an English teacher and use of the English language. All of her teaching was primarily with high school students, but it sounded like she was probably talking about elementary school students. It was never clear. She emphasized that their parents were eager for them to learn as well. She talked a lot about her relationship with the students and her efforts to build that relationship as a means to being a more effective teacher.

After a few minutes, I decided this wasn’t going to be a short conversation. I sat down on the bed beside her and listened. The only comments I made were facilitative ones. “It sounds like they really want to learn.” “The teachers really seem to care.” “It sounds like you’re doing the right thing.” There was a clock on the bedside table. When I first looked at it, the time was 7:20. We closed the conversation when it was 8:08. My intention was to see how long she would talk, but when she slowed up a bit, I asked what she would like to do “now.” She wanted to get dressed. I suggested a shower, and she accepted that. The conversation was over.

I found three things of interest about this conversation. The first was how alert she seemed to be from the moment I entered the bedroom. That is very unusual. She displayed no sign of grogginess at all. She was cheerful and alert. The second thing is that the way she spoke didn’t sound like the way she would talk to me. I never asked, but I’m not sure she recognized me. In fact, when I led her to the bathroom, she wanted me to leave before she took off her night gown. She apparently forgot that when I offered to start the shower for her because she took off her gown and got into the shower before I walked out.

The third thing is that the nature of her conversation was very much like what I have heard her say on other occasions. One of those times she was talking with the woman who gives her a massage. That time, however, she was talking as though she were a teacher in a school in another country. I’ve always thought it might be Africa or South America because those are both places where we have visited schools. It also reminds me of several dreams she had as far back as four or five years. She occasionally would talk in her sleep. She talked like she was speaking to a class and giving instructions.

It’s now 9:10. She is out of the shower and back in bed. I think I’ll let her rest until sometime after 10:00. I expect she will be back to normal although it is hard for me to know or say what “normal” is these days.

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A Few Things From Yesterday

Kate woke up at 5:00 and said, “Hey.” I looked over and saw her looking at me. I asked if she needed help. She said, “Where’s the thingy?” I asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom. She did. After she got back in bed, I was wide awake and decided to stay up.

Around 8:30, I noticed on the video cam that she had gotten up. When I reached the bedroom, she was just coming out of the bedroom. She seemed awake. I asked if she was planning to get up for the day. She said she was. I asked if she was going to take a shower. She shook her head to say no. Then she said, “Do you want me to take one?” I told her it would be a good idea, that she had missed one the day before. She said, “Okay.”

After the shower, she went back to bed and slept for an hour before I woke her. She wasn’t eager to get up but did so anyway without lingering or protesting.

I took her to the hair dresser’s at 2:00. I was about to offer her my hand as she stepped onto the walkway but realized there was less than a two-inch elevation from the pavement. I said, “I was going to offer you my hand, but there’s not much of a curb here.” She took my hand and said, “That’s all right. I wouldn’t know where to go without it.”  Afterwards as we walked out, she said, “Take my hand.” I did, and she said, “I don’t really need it, but I feel more secure.”

I see signs of her need for security in other things she is doing. A good example is that she more frequently asks me what she can do when we get home. I guess it is getting harder for her to remember what her options are. That is similar to her waiting to follow me each time we get home. She never remembers where to go. With few exceptions (I can’t remember any.), she always asks me where the bathroom is.

We had about two hours to pass before leaving for dinner. We spent the first hour relaxing in the family room. She started out working on her iPad. After less than thirty minutes, she put it down, closed her eyes, and rested in her chair for another thirty minutes. I told her we had another hour before dinner and asked if she would like to go to Barnes & Noble. She hesitated. It looked like she thought I might want to go. I told her I was fine staying at home. She did as well. This is becoming more common now. For such a long time, she rarely wanted to spend much time at home. Now as she is feeling the need for rest, she is less likely to accept an opportunity to go out. It’s just one more sign of how she and our lives are changing.

We ended the day with dinner at Bonefish Grill where we had a good social experience. We ran into a man who was a very good friend and admirer of my dad. They had both been students in a writing class for several years. They struck up a friendship that lasted until Dad’s passing in 2013. It was an interesting relationship since this friend is just one year older than I am and 26 years younger than my dad.

He was with his significant other who has dementia and just moved to Knoxville from New York City. She has been quite involved with the performing arts and had a neighbor with her who operates a ballet school. The conversation broke down into one between the dancer and me and Kate and our friends. I was glad to see Kate so actively involved in conversation. I don’t know what she said, but at one point she turned to me and asked how long we had been married. Our friends had obviously asked her, and she didn’t know. We both left the restaurant feeling energized. Eating out continues to offer us such experiences.

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An Example of Kate’s Rational and Intuitive Thinking

Shortly after 7:00 this morning, I looked at the video cam and noticed that Kate was up. I went to the bedroom just as she was coming out of the bathroom. She gave me a nice smile. I hugged and greeted her. Then she got back in bed. As I was about to leave the room, we had this brief conversation.

Kate:              “Where are we?”

Richard:        “In our home in Knoxville.”

Kate:              “It’s nice.”

Richard:        “Yes, there’s no place like home.”

Kate added: “With you.” <pause> “What’s your name?”

I didn’t try to determine if she knew that I am her husband. Based on recent experience, I would say there was a 50/50 chance, but her intuitive ability enables her to respond to me as someone she recognizes and cares about. Something very similar occurred last night when we went to bed. She moved close to me and put her arm across my chest. She said, “I love you. Good Night.”  Then she asked my name and hers.

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A Slow Day Yesterday

Kate has gotten up early on four or five days over the past two weeks. On the days when I felt I needed to wake her, I haven’t had any trouble. That changed yesterday when I tried to get her up for lunch with the sitter. She wanted me to leave her. I could, of course, have let her continue sleeping, but I felt she had slept enough. In addition, she hasn’t been as accepting of Cindy’s getting her up. On two occasions when I have done that, she has remained in bed too long. Once she didn’t get up at all while Cindy was here. The other time she got up so late that she didn’t have lunch until 3:00.

By the time I got her up and dressed yesterday, Cindy had been here over twenty minutes. When I got home, Kate was on the sofa resting. I’m not sure how long she had been there. She continued resting while I put up a few groceries and checked email.

At dinner, she asked if I knew what she was going to do when we got home. I said, “Go to bed?” She said, “That’s right.” I told her I suspected she would get her second wind after dinner. That is what usually happens. As we drove home, she said, “What can I do when we get home?” I told her she might like to work on her puzzles. She liked the idea and did so for almost an hour as I watched the news.

Later when I told her I was going to take a shower. I suggested she come to the bedroom with me. She started to follow me but went to the bathroom for the guest room next to ours. I went to look for her when she didn’t return. I found her in the guest room under the covers with her clothes on and the light off. I suggested she come into our bedroom. She came with me.

I put on a DVD of Les Miserables. She sat down in her chair with her iPad. It wasn’t long before she put the iPad down. She started to put on her night gown. Then she got in bed and lay down. She had been very lethargic all day, but she didn’t go to sleep. She was still awake when I got in bed an hour later.

It was another day when she wasn’t cheerful. She just seemed tired, but it was also a day when she appeared to know me as her husband. As we drove home from dinner, she said something about my being a creature of habit. I said, “You think you know me pretty well.” She said, “I should.” I said, “Do you know my name?” She didn’t, but it didn’t bother her at all. She just wanted me to tell her, and we moved on.

I’m hoping for a more cheerful day today.

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Confusion Over the Weekend

Saturday night, we watched the last half of a PROMS concert in London. It was an entire program of music by Rodgers and Hammerstein. We have watched it before, but this time Kate was more engaged. That was evident by the fact that she put her iPad down to watch. She enjoyed it and everything seemed quite normal.

When the program was over, Kate went to the bathroom to brush her teeth before coming to bed. When she came out, she saw me and looked puzzled. She said, “Where is he?” I said, “Who?” She said, “You know who.” I walked closer to her. She pointed in the direction of the family room and said, “Is he in there?” I said, “Who are you looking for?” She said, “Richard.” I said, “I’m Richard. I’m your husband.” She said, “No, you’re not.” I decided not to pursue it any further and gave her night gown to her. She didn’t ask any more questions.

Just before midnight, Kate woke up. She moved over right next to me. She apparently had had a dream and was frightened. I said, “It’s all right. I am right here with you. Nothing’s going to happen.” She said, “What about my mother?” I told her she was safe, that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her either. She gradually relaxed. That began a conversation that lasted over an hour.

She said, “I’m glad I have you.” I told her I felt the same way and that we had been together a long time. She wanted to know how long. I told her we had been married almost fifty-six years, and we had had a good marriage. She agreed. As we moved from  our marriage to other questions about family, she asked, “What is your name?” She was loaded with other questions. She asked about our children, their names, where they lived, what they did. She also asked what kind of work she did. I told her about her teaching school, becoming a school librarian, and working as a volunteer church librarian for nineteen years.

She said, “What’s my mother’s name?” I said, “Elizabeth Franklin. She was a special lady.” She picked up on “was” and said, “Is she gone?” Most of the time I answer honestly, but this time she really seemed worried. I said, “No, she is fine.” Then she said, “What’s my father’s name?” I said, “Carl Franklin. He’s a good man.”  She said, “What’s his name again?” I told her. Then she said, “What’s my mother’s name?” I told her. She asked where they lived. After I told her, she wanted to know where we live.

The last time I looked at the clock it was a couple of minutes after 1:00. Not long after that, we were both asleep.

Just before 8:00 yesterday morning, she started to get up. I got to the bedroom as she was getting out of bed. She looked at me and gave me a big smile. Then she said, “I’m so glad to see you.” The way she said it, I could tell she thought I was someone else. I gave her a hug, and she hugged back. I asked if I could help her. She looked puzzled. I said, “I thought maybe you wanted to go to the bathroom.” She said, “I’d like some clothes first.” I said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll get some clothes while you go to the bathroom.” I started to walk her to the bathroom when she said, “I look forward to being with you guys.” I walked her to the bathroom and left to get her clothes. When I came back, she appeared to know me.

The rest of the day went well although there were other moments of confusion. For a while at lunch, she didn’t recognize me as her husband. I made reference to our children. She couldn’t believe we were married. I showed her a few pictures of Jesse and Kevin, and she changed her mind. I don’t know if she simply accepted that or if she really remembered. It was impossible to know for sure. I only know that she seemed more accepting.

After lunch, I watched the Master’s with the sound off. I played music that I knew Kate enjoys. She lay down to rest but never went to sleep. She enjoyed the music.

The biggest problem of the day occurred when we attended a drop-in at the home of a couple we have met at Casa Bella on jazz nights. They usually sit at our table, and I have enjoyed talking with them. Kate has not had the same connection. I accepted the invitation with the intention of putting in an appearance and then coming home. I hadn’t anticipated exactly how Kate would respond, but she has gotten along so well in other situations I decided to try. Big mistake. We were in a completely different part of town in a home in which we had never visited before. Along with that, there were a large number of people. It turned out that the primary connection was jazz. I saw several people I knew from other places in the community, but Kate didn’t know anyone. That included the people we really did know. The arrangement of the house was confusing to her. She didn’t know where she should go or what to do. A couple of times when I was engaged in a conversation, she walked away. She was quite uneasy and ready to leave almost from the time we arrived. There was nothing redeeming for her. I got something for us to eat, paid our respect to our hosts, and left. I have avoided social gatherings like this for quite some time. This experience confirmed what I suspected. It’s just too much for her.

We relaxed when we got home. She sat down with her “Big Sister” album. I asked if she would like me to look through it with her. I was hoping (and expecting) she would say yes. She didn’t. After a while, I noticed she was as excited about the album as she usually is. That’s when I discovered that she was confused about what to do with it. She had been treating it like her iPad with the puzzles app. She kept touching the photos, but nothing happened. Even after I explained the problem, she couldn’t catch on. I suggested she take a break and work with her iPad. She was glad to do that and worked on it for the remainder of the evening.

During the past couple of weeks, I have referred to how cheerful Kate has been. That hasn’t been true the past couple of days, especially yesterday. Like everything else, I can’t be sure exactly what accounts for the change; however, I always wonder if she isn’t feeling a bit discouraged about how she is doing. She is still sharp enough to recognize that she is not all right. Whatever the explanation, I know it is harder for me to be upbeat when she is not.