For the second day in a row Kate was up early. Yesterday she was ready to get up around 9:00. Today it was only 7:30. This was one of those mornings she clearly did not realize she was in her own home or my name or relationship. Perhaps because she didn’t know who I was, she wasn’t quite as eager to have my help. Several times when I tried to help, she said (in an unflattering way), “You think you know how to do everything.”
She started warming up to me as I helped her dress. Entering the family room provided the catalyst she needed to feel better about the day. I walked with her around the room as we looked at the flowers inside and out. I told her I wanted to show her something and walked her to a photo of our son when he was about eight. She always loves this picture. Today was no exception. When she asked who he was, I told her he was our son. She reacted to the word “our” and said, “No.” I said, “Well, he is your son.” That was better. I also showed her a picture of her father.
From there we went into the kitchen where I had set out her meds. After she had taken them, she noticed a card on the island and asked what it was. It was a card from her P.E.O. sisters. I had shown it to her last night, but she had forgotten. I read it to her along with the handwritten message inside. She was touched, and tears filled her eyes. She loved the beauty of the cover page that had three hearts on it as well as the tender message itself and asked if she could take it with us. I told her that would be fine. It was still a few minutes before we left, but she held the card in her hand and admired it. She asked several other times if she could take it with us.
Once we were in the car, she held it against her breast and said, “I’m going to keep this forever.” She kept talking about how beautiful it was. As we walked from the car to Panera, she held it carefully in her hand and told me once again how much she liked it. I said, “I love you.” She said, “You know what I think. You’re a good guy, and I think I’ll learn to love you too.”
We took our table at Panera, and she carefully placed the card standing upright so that she could look at it while eating her muffin and working on her iPad. A short time later she picked up the card and looked at it again. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to read the note, I asked if she would like me to read it for her. She did. When I read “Dear Kate,” she said, “How did they know my name?” I explained that she had been a member for many years and had served as president. She had no memory of that at all.
Incidentally, the blueberry muffin was also a big hit this morning. It was like this was the first time she had every had one. Thirty minutes after finishing it, she wanted something else. I asked if another muffin would be all right. She beamed. Thus far, the morning has been just another Happy Moment of many that she and I experience. She remembers very little, but she is not “suffering.”
