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Cheerful Days

In many ways the past two days were like a lot of other days we have. The difference was that Kate was cheerful all day long. Both days she awoke early and was in a good mood.

As she got out of bed on Tuesday, she called me by name. I took her to the bathroom. Afterward, she wanted to go back to bed. I told her I would be in the kitchen if she needed me. I added that I would stay if she preferred. She told me it would be all right if I left; however, she looked as though she wanted me to stay. I told I would be glad to bring my things to the bedroom and sit in the chair beside her. That made her happy.

Instead of leaving when she fell asleep, I stayed until it was time to get her up. That worked well because she woke up periodically and saw that I was there. Several times we chatted briefly. When it was time to get her up, I asked if she was ready. She said yes. I didn’t rush her at all. I told her I would get some clothes for her. It was another fifteen minutes before I told her I had her clothes. She got up very easily. I the the gradual process helped.

It wasn’t long before the sitter arrived. I hadn’t mentioned that I was leaving and thought she might be uneasy as I left. That turned out not to be a problem. She greeted Cindy with a hug and wasn’t phased when I told her I would be going to Rotary. The rest of the day went smoothly as well.

Yesterday was Kate’s birthday, and I was hoping she might have another good day. My wish was granted. She never showed any excitement or interest in its being her birthday; however, she did appreciate the emails, cards, and calls she received. She was especially touched by two cards. One of those was from our daughter. Kate was in tears as I read it to her. The other was from our twin grandsons. She was taken by the cards design. It had a pop-up when she opened it. She was fascinated by it and looked at it for a long time.

The celebration continued at dinner last night. After I had given the server our order, Kate noticed shrimp on the menu. The server, whom I had told about her birthday, asked Kate if she liked shrimp. When Kate said she did, the server said, “I’ll treat you to a shrimp cocktail.” Kate has always loved that. Although her eyesight complicated eating it, last night was no exception. Several times she dipped the tail of the shrimp in the sauce and took a bite.

The day ended with phone calls from our children and Kate’s brother and his wife who will be here for a visit tomorrow. That should be good for her as well.

Our experience does not mean there was any improvement in Kate’s memory or her confusion. For example, yesterday afternoon while she was getting her hair done, I went to the ATM at the bank across the parking lot. The stylist told me later that while I was gone, Kate said, “Where is my, uh, boyfriend?”

As we prepared to leave home for dinner, Kate said, “Let’s get out of here. I wanna go home.” There isn’t a way to stop the fundamental symptoms of Alzheimer’s, but, thankfully, we are still able to enjoy ourselves. I am grateful for that.

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Visiting Friends

I have talked a lot about the role that music and eating out have played in our lives, but I haven’t said as much about our connection with friends. I am thinking especially of friends who live out of town. With one exception, our friend Ellen who is in memory care in Nashville, Kate and I don’t see them frequently, but they, too, have provided with a support network that continues to be important to us. Saturday, we visited Ann and Jeff Davis, a couple we first met in graduate school at the University of Wisconsin. Later, John and I were colleagues at the University of Tennessee. They moved away more than twenty years ago and now live in Nashville.

Kate has changed a lot since we last saw them, and I was glad when Ann sent an email asking if we might plan a visit. Kate’s memory of them has diminished, but I thought she would probably respond well to them once we were together. For the most part, I was right about that.

After taking our seats, we quickly broke into two different conversations, one between Ann and Kate, the other between Jess and me. It sounded like Kate was doing well though I recall her dodging a question she couldn’t answer by tossing it to me.

We were there a couple of hours. The conversation soon drifted to one among the four of us. That can be, and was, hard for Kate. She wanted to be involved, but that is difficult. Her poor memory means her vocabulary is substantially reduced and she doesn’t remember the past and is not familiar with current events. That’s makes it tough. She didn’t, however, say anything that made me think she was uncomfortable. That’s good.

As I look to the future, I am hopeful that we will continue with these trips. Right now we have another one scheduled to see Jan and Scott Greeley in Nashville two weeks from now. That’s another special connection for Kate. Her parents were close friends of Scott’s parents. Kate and Scott were crib mates in the early days of their lives. She no longer retains a memory of their times together, but she almost always beams when I mention a visit with them. At this time in our lives, relationships like these are especially meaningful.  We have shared a lot of experiences together, and I plan to keep them up unless it becomes uncomfortable for Kate.

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Unanticipated Issues

Yesterday things were going well. Kate woke up early, showered and dressed without any difficulty. I was especially pleased because we were going to visit friends in Nashville, and I was eager to eat an early lunch before our departure. We were also early enough to get to Panera for a short time and get back home for Kate to rest another hour.

Lunch went well until very near time to leave when she started looking for her napkin. At first, I didn’t know what she wanted because she couldn’t remember the word for napkin. When I asked if she was looking for a napkin, she said she was. I pointed out that she had put under her plate with her utensils. She didn’t understand and said, “Where is it?” I pointed to it. She pointed to her salmon and said, “This?” I told her it wasn’t and reached across the table to point at it. She didn’t see it. Then I put my hand on it and said, “This is it.” That didn’t work. Then I asked her to pick up her plate. She didn’t understand. I picked it up and put it to the side. Then I showed her the napkin and told her she could wipe her hands with it. That didn’t work either, so I said, “Let me show you.” I got up and went to her side of the table where I picked up the napkin and started wiping her hands. Her mood changed immediately. She said, “I wanna’ get out of here.”

It was a frustrating situation for both of us. I didn’t have any trouble understanding that she was having two problems, both of which are directly related to her Alzheimer’s. One is her vision. The other is her ability to understand directions. I was trying hard not to show my frustration, but I wasn’t successful. As we left the restaurant, she said she couldn’t do anything right. I thought she was upset with me, but it turned out she was only thinking about her inability to follow my instructions. I felt guilty for making her feel that way. After we had been on the road to Nashville about fifteen minutes, she was fine again.

This episode is a good example of how quickly things can change. It is also a reminder of something I already know. I need to be very careful how I respond in situations like this. She is very much aware of her problems, and I don’t want to diminish her sense of self-worth.

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Increasing Dependence

I have often commented on Kate’s dependence on me with respect to finding the bathroom, the full variety of bathroom activities, dressing, and helping with most other activities of daily living (ADLs). That continues, but I have observed other ways in which she is dependent. I’d sum it up by saying they involve my being a security blanket.

I mentioned one of those in my previous post when she didn’t want to go to lunch with the friend I had asked to take her. She has been to lunch with her on a number of occasions before and after her diagnosis, and, yet, she wouldn’t agree to go with her yesterday.

Yesterday she had a similar experience with the sitter. This one was with the sitter who has been with her more than two years. Kate wanted to rest after lunch, just fifteen minutes before Mary arrived. That’s not unusual. When I returned four hours later, she was still resting in her recliner although awake. I asked Mary if she had been there the whole time. She had. Mary said, she has encouraged her to get up, but Kate didn’t want to.

After Mary left, she asked me to show her to the bathroom. As we walked hand in hand, she expressed her feelings more clearly than she usually does. She conveyed that she liked Mary, but she said, “It’s good to be with somebody you really know.” She was relieved that I was home. When we reached the bathroom, I started to leave. Then she asked me to stay in case she needed help with anything. I frequently sense that she is at ease with me even when she doesn’t know my name or our relationship. This time, however, it seemed like she both knew me and that she was very grateful I was home.

As she finished washing her hands, I started toward the kitchen. When she came out of the bathroom, she didn’t see me and called to me. I went back to her. She was so relieved when she saw me that she was almost in tears.

We went to dinner at a nearby pizza place. Before I stepped away from the table to pay for our meal, I told her I was going to pay and would be back. I know she can’t remember, but there was no one ahead of me. In addition, The check out wasn’t too far from our table, and she has never been uneasy before. As I approached the table after paying, I saw that she had a worried look on her face and was looking all around for me. When I walked up to her, she said, “I am looking for my husband.” When she looked more closely, she recognized me. Again, it was an emotional experience for her.

Here is my own interpretation of what’s happening. She is sinking deeper into a state in which she can’t remember anything. That makes her afraid. I am the one who is most often with her and helps her. Of course, we also have a bond that is very strong after fifty-six years of marriage. When you put these things together, it’s not difficult to see why she might feel dependent. This has an advantage with respect to helping her with so many things. She still likes to retain some independence, and I think that is a good thing. Normally, however, she is usually receptive to me help. That makes caring for her much easier.

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A Good Start and Finish

Our routine was altered a bit yesterday. Kate called for me about 9:00. She was smiling when I reached her bedside. She wanted to go to the bathroom. She was confused but did not seem to be bothered. She just wanted my help and accepted it through the whole bathroom routine including showering and getting dressed. It was early enough to get her to Panera for a muffin and get back home just after 11:00. That worked out well because I had asked a church friend to take her to lunch. I had a lunch meeting and needed to leave by 11:30. Kate was tired and wanted to rest a while. I explained to our friend that she had gotten up early and might want to rest a little longer before they went to lunch.

When I got home, Kate was still resting. The friend said that she had tried to get her interested in going to lunch, but she didn’t want to. The friend said to Kate, “I think you wanted to wait for Richard.” Kate nodded. I was surprised because this is someone that Kate likes very much. In fact, everybody I know likes her. My only explanation is that while resting, she completely blanked on who the friend was after being excited about having lunch with her. I know that happens with me. It still surprises me when we have been talking about our  marriage and children and then says, “Who are you?”

It was after 2:00, and I took her to Chick-fil-A for a chicken sandwich. It turned out that she had a hair appointment shortly thereafter. As the stylist walked her to the front to meet me, Kate asked where I was. I stood up to greet her. She was greatly relieved to see me. I have become a security blanket for her.

She rested at home for an hour before we went to dinner at Casa Bella for jazz night. We sat at a table for twelve. She must have felt a little left out. She tried hard to participate. Then she retreated for the remainder of the dinner. The music was good, but neither of us was taken with the singers themselves.

When we got home, it was time for bed. Soft music was playing, and we were both relaxed and happy.

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More of the Same

I had just passed the halfway point in my walk at 7:35 yesterday morning when I saw that Kate was about to get up. I went to the bedroom and discovered that this was another morning of the same kind of confusion and anxiety that I have seen more of in the past ten days. It seems like it’s becoming a pattern. She looked very confused. I am sure she didn’t know me, but I didn’t say anything that might have prompted her to tell me.

I told her I was there to help her. She said, “I don’t know what to do.” I said, “Usually you want to go to the bathroom.” She asked why, and I tried, unsuccessfully, to explain. Then I asked her to come with me. She agreed to go with me to the bathroom although she had a look of apprehension on her face. As on other mornings, she periodically said, “Help me. Please, help me.” I assured her that I would. She was very dependent on me to help her with everything. From the bathroom, I took her back to bed. She said, “I wish you could stay with me.” I told her I would be happy to stay. I went to the kitchen to get my things and returned to the chair right beside her side of the bed. She was asleep very quickly, and I returned to my walk.

The rest of the day went well. She was happy to see the sitter and happy to see me when I got home. She did say she wanted to go home. I told her I would take her. We went to dinner. She never said another word about going home.

She watched the news with me but looked rather bored. I asked if she would like to get ready for bed. She did. I put on a YouTube video of a concert of music from My Fair Lady. She enjoyed it. As usual, she was still awake an hour after the concert but was very much at ease. We ended the day on a happy note.

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Continued Mixture of Confusion and Happiness

Yesterday morning as I was taking my walk around 7:20, I heard Kate scream. I went to the room. She was upset but not as much as I would have expected from her scream. I am guessing she must have had a bad dream because she acted like she wanted to go back to sleep. I asked if he would like me to stay with her. She did, and I remained in the bedroom for about thirty minutes. Then I continued my walk.

She quickly went back to sleep and didn’t wake up until 10:20. At that time I heard her say, “Hey.” Her voice was soft, and I wasn’t sure that I had heard her. When I reached her, she confirmed that she had called. We talked a few minutes, and she seemed all right. Like the day before, I soon learned that she was confused. Before getting out of bed, she said, “Who are you?” I gave her my name told her that I was her husband. She reacted strongly to that, and I said, “I am a good friend, and I can help you with anything you need.”

We walked to the bathroom, but she was a little uneasy with me when she used the toilet and when she showered. She was resistant to my helping with her shower. She said, “Don’t ever tell anyone about this?”

The shower turned out to be good therapy. She enjoyed it and said she felt better when she got out. She was still guarded. She was comfortable enough to let me help, but she was also trying to keep her distance from me. A funny thing happened as I helped her dry off and get dressed. As she often does after a shower, she wanted to lie down on the bed. Then she surprised me by saying, “Don’t forget my (unclear, couldn’t think of the right word).” She pointed to her toes. She had already run her fingers in between each toe. Now she wanted me to do it.

When we left for lunch, she seemed quite comfortable with me, but I don’t think she recognized me as her husband. During lunch, I eased into some comments that would suggest we had known each other a long time. Our server told us she would be leaving to spend a semester in Berlin. I mentioned that we had visited there and that she would like it.

When she stepped away, I talked to Kate about some of the places we had traveled. I deliberately failed to mention our marriage. She seemed to accept what I said without any concern or confusion or fear that she didn’t remember these experiences. At little later, I mentioned that our son was planning a trip to see us. She seemed fine. I never asked if she knew I was her husband.

We had a very brief sad moment in the car on the way home. We had stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. As I came to the exit from the parking lot, she saw a stop sign. She tried to read it but couldn’t. I told her it said, “Stop.” She said, “What’s that?” I explained. She looked sad and said, “I don’t like to be a ‘duppy.’” She meant “dummy,” of course. I said, “You’re not a dummy.” You’re a smart gal.” She got excited and said, “Hey, and I didn’t even pay you to say that.” It’s been almost nine years since her diagnosis. She forgot a long time ago that she has Alzheimer’s, but she still knows at this late stage that she’s “not right.” She wants to be but can’t. That’s sad.

That moment really was brief. It lasted only minute. When we got home, she rested for a couple of hours in her recliner. As usual, her eyes were open off and on. I’m not sure how much she actually slept. I do know that she was quite calm and seemed happy. Halfway through her rest, I asked her if she was relaxed. She was. I told her I was as well.

A short time later, she accepted my offer to read something to her. This time I chose something different. I picked up the photo book that she and her brother had made in the early days after diagnosis. It focuses on her mother’s family who lived in Battle Creek. At the end of the book there is a section that focuses on the Kellogg brothers, Battle Creek as “Cereal City,” and the Battle Creek Sanitarium where Kate’s grandfather was a doctor. I read for about forty-five minutes. She was interested and asked me to re-read much of it as she tried to take in all the information. It had been a long time since I had read it, but I will put this on my list of things to read more frequently.

Our dinner and time at home afterwards were good as usual. With all the changes that are going on, I still find that afternoons and evenings are the most predictably good times for us. That’s a nice way to finish the day.

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Morning Confusion and Fright, But a Pleasant End of the Day

Kate was sleeping soundly when I woke her about 10:45 yesterday. She got up without a problem. I thought everything was fine. It wasn’t until I helped her out of bed that she showed any signs of fright and confusion. It was a time when she didn’t have any idea of who I was but gladly responded to my assistance in every way. I told her I was her husband, and she said, “No.” I said, “How about good friends?” She said, “That’s better. She depended on me to tell her what to do and how to do it. For example, washing hands and brushing teeth were like she had never done either before. I was very careful not to rush her. I knew she had plenty of time to be ready for the sitter. That may have helped. I know she didn’t get irritated with me at all.

After she was dressed, she was disoriented. I took her through the hallway outside the bedroom to see photos of her mother and grandmother. She often guesses the photo of her mother is of her. This time she had no idea. She also expressed less interest in the photos than the past. Then we went directly to the kitchen for her morning meds. That went smoothly. When she had taken the last one, we had a few minutes before the sitter was to arrive. I told her she would be going to lunch with Cindy, and I was going to Rotary. I don’t remember her exact words, but she sternly said something like, “You are not.” I asked her to come with me and took her to the family room. I showed her The “Big Sister” album. She didn’t recognize herself or her brother in the cover photo.

We sat down on the sofa, and I opened the album and showed her the pictures on the first few pages while giving her a commentary on them. Her interest grew. A few minutes later when Cindy arrived, she was happy. Cindy sat on the other side of Kate, and I went to the kitchen to get my things. I walked back to the room to say goodbye and noticed that they were looking at a picture of Kate’s parents. I made a comment about them, and Kate said, “How did you know?” I told her that I knew her parents. She turned to Cindy and said, “I don’t even know who he is.” I said goodbye while the two of them continued looking at the photos. She didn’t show any concern that I was leaving. I felt good that she was comfortable with Cindy.

When I returned home, Kate was, as usual, lying down on the sofa but not asleep. She didn’t express any enthusiasm about my being home, but she wanted me to help her up. I discovered a few minutes later than she was ready to leave. She wanted to go home. I took her to Panera and got her something to drink. She worked on her iPad, and I did the same on mine. She got along pretty well on her puzzles without much help from me. An hour later, I suggested that we eat dinner there instead of going for our usual Mexican meal. When we finished, I took her back home. She didn’t say anything more about going home. This routine of leaving the house for “home” has worked each time I have tried it. That makes it an easy to address this problem. It is certainly better than telling her she is already at home.

Kate worked on her iPad for almost an hour after our return, but she had great difficulty with her puzzles. I was seated in a chair across the room from her watching the evening news. Every few minutes I had to get up to help her. She tired of this before I did and asked if she could get ready for bed. I turned on YouTube with a series of Andre Rieu videos that she enjoyed for an hour and a half. Then I put on some especially relaxing music on our audio system. When I got in bed, she was still awake but very relaxed and happy. That was two hours after she had gotten to bed. That is rather commonplace now. It may be that she isn’t really that sleepy. She just needs to rest her brain for a while. The music relaxes her. She doesn’t have to hurry to get somewhere. And she doesn’t have to experience any of the normal frustrating or intimidating situations she does at other times of the day. Living with Alzheimer’s is an emotional ride.

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Yesterday’s Roller Coaster Ride

One week ago today, Kate had her most difficult day. Yesterday was another day, the third in a week, that Kate has experienced similar symptoms. She was very tired, confused, and troubled/sad. She was smiling when I got her up. I helped her dress without a problem.

Everything was fine until we started to leave for lunch. I walked ahead of her from the bedroom toward the kitchen. She was coming out of the bathroom and didn’t see where I had gone and called to me. I turned around and went back. She was frightened. She said, “I know you wouldn’t leave me, but I didn’t know where you were.” That set the tone for getting to the car for lunch as well as leaving the restaurant and getting in the car there. She was simply frightened but didn’t know why. As she had done the day before, she said, “Help me. Help me.” as she got in the car. She got along well at lunch.

The worst time was during the afternoon after she had been resting for almost two hours. After that, I suggested that I read to her. That appealed to her, and I read a little from Charlotte’s Web. Her eyes were open, but it didn’t appear that she was paying attention. I stopped and asked if she was enjoying my reading to her. She seemed to be in a trance. I told her I would stop if she wanted me to. When she didn’t respond, I said in a louder voice, “Can you hear me?” Although she had her eyes open, she responded as though I had waked her from a deep sleep. Then I repeated my questions. She didn’t want me to read. She was tired and wanted to rest.

I agreed to that and remained in my chair close to her recliner. She became talkative but was delusional. I told her she looked frightened. She said she was. I asked if she could tell me why. She said, “I don’t know.” I told her I would like to help her. She said, “They want to kill me.” I asked who, but she didn’t know. We had just finished a chapter in Charlotte’s Web in which they talked about Zuckerman’s intent to kill Wilbur. I suggested she might have gotten the idea from that. She acted like that might have been a possibility. I feel sure it was.

Once again, she said she was tired. I felt like I should do something to divert her attention to whatever she was afraid of. Instead I let her rest a little while. It wasn’t long before she was talking about the house. It was obvious she didn’t realize we were at home. I shifted gears and told her I would like to show her something and asked her to come with me.

I took her hand and walked her to the living room where I pointed out several things that had come from her parents’ home. She was interested but sad because she said, “I never got to know my parents.” Then she went on to say that they had had a rough life and grew up poor. She also said she couldn’t remember anything about them.

She was most interested in a fresco we had bought in Italy fifteen years ago. It was the first time in the past year or two that I recall her being taken with it, even more so than some of the things that had belonged to her parents. She wanted to sit down on the sofa. Then she began to talk about the room. She said she “liked what they had done to the room.” My reminding her that we bought the fresco did not convince to her that this was our house.

It was very clear, however, that her mood was changing. By the time we got to the dining room, she was quite interested in several other items that had come from her parents home. It wasn’t quite 5:00, but I suggested that we get ready for dinner.

She was a little bit skittish getting in and out of the car and from the car to the restaurant, but she seemed fine otherwise. When we got home, I suggested that we sit together on the sofa in the family room and go through one of her photo books that features a family wedding veil that had been purchased by one of her aunts for her wedding in 1924. She was enraptured.

When we finished, we began a conversation about our marriage and the happy times we have had. It was a touching moment for both of us. Earlier I had made several recordings. I am especially glad that I recorded this one. There is quite a contrast between this conversation and the others. She was happy again.

When we finished, we went back to the bedroom where I put on some YouTube videos and helped her prepare for bed. Everything went smoothly. She was fine, but we had had some rocky moments. It was another successful example of diverting her attention from whatever was bothering her. It also reinforces my previous guesses that when she is passive, her mind wanders. She begins to imagine things that are problematic. Yesterday, it was women who were out to get her. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to divert her. I am glad that I have a number of different things that help – music, photo books, tours around the house, conversations about family and our marriage. I can’t depend on just one to come to the rescue now. The good thing is that it is still possible to turn her around, but it’s getting harder.

I was very disturbed by her rambling during the afternoon and suspect I haven’t seen the last of this. She is entering a new phase of this disease, one I don’t like. When she bounced back, I did as well. We had an especially good time with the photo book, and the day ended on a high note.

Although I feel better now, I believe she has taken a sudden decline. I have read other caregivers accounts of similar declines. In fact, one of those was reported in a Facebook post yesterday. I also know of a former college roommate who took a steep decline and died about a month after Kate and I had been with him and his wife. I know someone else with dementia who died less than six months after I last saw her and thought she was doing quite well. While I am not ready to let her go, I would prefer that she go quickly rather than lingering for years. I have suspected the latter since she currently has no other medical conditions that might shorten her life. That, of course, is beyond my control. I will continue to focus on keeping her happy and secure.

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Another Day of Confusion

Kate got off to a rough start today, and I feel that I may have played a part in creating the problem. This is a day when I felt I didn’t need to rush her to get ready. I turned on some relaxing music to wake her gently. After thirty minutes, I decided it was time to get her up. I did something I don’t usually do. I turned off the video cam and went to the bedroom. She was sleeping very soundly, so I decided to let her sleep a little longer.

About ten minutes later while I was in the kitchen, I heard her make a noise. I heard her again as I walked to her. (I would have heard her get up if I hadn’t turned off the video cam.) I could tell she wasn’t in the bedroom and said, “Where are you?” She said, “Right here.” She was in the hallway walking toward our bedroom. She had gotten up but didn’t know where she was and must have wandered to one of our other bedrooms. She was frightened and said, “Help me. Help me.” I went into “comfort mode” and told her I could help her with anything she needed. She told me she didn’t know what to do and repeated “Help me.”

I took her to the bathroom and then back to our bedroom where I had laid out her clothes a little earlier. She continued to be frightened and repeated her plea for help numerous times. There were moments when she seemed to calm down. One of those occurred when I showed her a photo of her mother in the hallway outside our bedroom,  another as we walked through the family room. When we reached the kitchen, I gave her her morning meds. She didn’t know what to do with them. I explained and coached her step by step.

She was very unsure of herself as we went to the car. As you would expect, I put on some music that I thought she would like. I think she did, but she was very quiet all the way to the restaurant. I remained silent thinking that the music would do a better job calming her than I could.

She was very confused at the restaurant, at least until she had eaten most of her meal. I worked hard to show her the salmon on her plate. She couldn’t distinguish the salmon from the sweet potato fries. I gave up and used her fork to pick up a piece and fed it to her. After a couple of forksful, she fed herself. She enjoyed her meal. She even ate about half of the mixed vegetables. She rarely eats any of them. She was calm until it came time to get up from the booth and walk to the car. She was very insecure, actually frightened, and held on to me tightly.

We returned home about 2:00, and Kate rested in her recliner. She was in and out of sleep. At one point, she opened her eyes and lifted her arms toward the ceiling. It appeared that she was looking at something or someone. She smiled. Then she closed her eyes again. Moments later she opened them and looked uneasy. I got up, walked to her and held her hand. I said, “You looked frightened? Are you?” She nodded. I asked if she could tell me what was frightening her. She didn’t know. I told her I was here with her and would help her with anything she needed. She didn’t say anything but squeezed my hand, and I took a seat in the chair beside her.

She woke up a little while later. I asked if she was relaxed. She said she didn’t know. I asked if she was frightened. She didn’t know. Then I asked if she would like for me to read to her. She wasn’t sure about that either. I told her I would like to read something to her and picked up The Velveteen Rabbit and started reading. As I read, she kept saying “Huh” as I read something new. The more I read, the less she did this, but she never completely stopped. And I never stopped reading, I wasn’t entirely sure that she was enjoying what I was reading, but she didn’t show any sign of going back to sleep. Several times she responded appropriately to parts that were sad.

When I finished, I said, “Isn’t that a nice story?” She nodded. Then I asked if she was glad that I had read it. She smiled and said she did. It was clear that her mood had turned around. She became more animated as she looked out at the back yard where the wind was blowing through the trees and shrubbery. She kept pointing to things that she wanted me to see. As we looked through the sky lights, I commented on how fast the clouds were moving, and we watched as they drifted by from West to East. We must have watched and talked about what we were seeing for fifteen minutes before she took note of the poinsettias in the room. She was quite cheerful.

Then I went picked up a photo of her and her brother when they were about four and two and showed to her. I was pleased when she said, “That’s my brother.” She commented on his smile and then looked at her picture and said, “That’ me.”

I had put on a Chris Botti album a little earlier. The last song on the album is “What a Wonderful World.” It caught her attention, and we talked about the song and how much we liked it. She was again at ease. Reading, admiring the trees and shrubs, photos, and the music turned out to be the highlight of our day.

She was fine until we got ready to leave for dinner. Once again, she seemed afraid. She was distracted by her meal. It was a big serving, and she ate almost everything and seemed fine as we left for home.

At home, she worked puzzles for a few minutes before wanting to get ready for bed. That took a little more time than usual. She required more help from me. After she was in bed, I turned on a series of YouTube videos of Andre Rieu. She is lying down in bed listening to the music and seems content. I think the chances are good that we’ll be back to “normal” tomorrow, but one never knows.