Kate has made many changes since her diagnosis past 8 ½ years ago. They are happening more rapidly now, and they are the kind of changes that alter our social activity. Some of them are more difficult for me to accept than others. One of those is forgetting who I am. The first time I was aware of this change was a year and a half ago. At that time, I wrote about it in a post on February 22, 2018. I am copying a portion of that below.
Could she be forgetting my name?
After we ordered our lunch today, Kate looked across the table at me and asked, “What is your name?” I misunderstood her and thought she said “her name.” She said, “No, your name.” I made some lighthearted comment, and she said, “No, seriously, what is your name?” I said, “Richard,” and she said, “Creighton.” Then she asked if I had another name, and I gave her my middle name.
This is the second time in the past few weeks that she has asked my name. In each case, I first thought she was just playing games with me. My second thought was, “Could she really be forgetting my name?” Today it seemed clear that she might be doing just that. . . I know, of course, that there will be a time when she forgets my name and then forgets who I am. I am already witnessing that happen to close family members. I just hadn’t thought we could be approaching the time when her forgetting would include me. I’m not ready for this.
I wasn’t ready for that. Since that time, I have often reported on conversations similar to the one above. It has been obvious that forgetting my name and that I am her husband has become more common than in early 2018; however, my present emotional response is no longer the same as it was then. That may sound surprising to some who have not gone through this experience, but caregivers are always adapting to the changes experienced by their loved ones. Forgetting a spouse’s name and relationship is just one more.
When I first notice new things that Kate is doing or not doing, it becomes a new reminder of what lies ahead. Her recent difficulty working jigsaw puzzles on the iPad is a good example. That’s a big one because that has been her primary activity for the past two or three years. Her increasing dependence on me is another. With the passage of time, however, I become more accustomed the changes. I keep adapting to a new reality.
I am aided by the knowledge that she needs me. We have given ourselves to each other for over fifty-six years, but we have never experienced anything comparable to the way in which Alzheimer’s has taken away her ability to survive on her own. That brings about an overwhelming drive to make her as happy, safe, and comfortable as I can. That emotion tends to override any sadness that accompanies her changes.
In addition, Kate and I still enjoy life and each other even in moments when she doesn’t remember me. Yesterday she had an extended time during which she thought I was a friend, not her husband. That would have been shocking two years ago but is becoming more natural for me now.
It started when I got home to relieve the sitter. She had been resting on the sofa in the family room. There was something about the way she greeted me that made me think that she didn’t realize that I was her husband. When we talked after Cindy left, it became clear that my suspicions were correct. She didn’t ask who I was; therefore, I didn’t tell her my name or our relationship. She recognized me a someone she knows and was very comfortable with me. We enjoyed ourselves during dinner, but she didn’t say anything that made me think that she of me as anything but a good friend.
When we got home, I played YouTube videos of Pavarotti and The Three Tenors as well as Jonas Kaufmann. We both enjoyed the music. It was a nice way to end the day. Yet it still appeared she didn’t know me as her husband. That was confirmed when I got into bed. She was still awake, and I moved close to her. We talked about having a nice day. She was very comfortable. I couldn’t resist testing her and made a not-so-subtle comment about our being married. She laughed. I said, “You don’t think we are married?” Very confidently, she said, “No.” Thus we went to sleep without her ever knowing or acknowledging that we are married. That is the longest period of time she has not recognized our relationship. I had my arm around her for a short time after we got in bed. I released my arm when I turned onto my back. Then she grasped my hand and gave it a squeeze. I felt happy just to know that she still thinks we have a special relationship. I would have been very unhappy with that two years ago.
