Preface
I wrote most of this post yesterday (Saturday). That was 24 hours after I started. My intention was to write a brief summary of a special time Kate and I had Friday morning. I dropped those plans when other things took precedence. Although the morning had gone very well, the day turned out to be most unusual and very challenging. Even more unusual, was that it marked two days in a row that Kate faced problems that were especially difficult for me to address. A lot has happened. I won’t do justice to what occurred, but here’s the story in two parts, starting with Thursday.
Kate got up early on Wednesday and didn’t rest as much as usual during the day. Thus, it was no surprise that I needed to wake her on Thursday. At 11:00, I played music to wake her up gradually. After 30 minutes, I went in to see if she was awake. She wasn’t. That is unusual. Normally, she would be relaxing in bed while the music plays.
When I spoke to her, she responded and seemed sleepy but not disturbed in any way. I sat down on the bed beside her and chatted with her a few minutes. I told her it was getting close to lunch time. She wasn’t interested and said she would get up “in a little while.” We didn’t have any immediate plans, so I told her I would check a little later.
I checked at noon and again at 1:30. She still did not want to get up. She had a hair appointment at 3:00, so I tried again at 2:00. Still no luck. This time she looked somewhat disturbed and said, “Shhh” when I spoke. She pointed to the ceiling and very softly said, “See them?” I nodded and hoped that she wouldn’t ask me about “them.” She didn’t.
I mentioned that she had a hair appointment. She wasn’t interested. It didn’t matter if I cancelled, but I thought it might help her to get up and out. I encouraged her to go but decided not to push her.
I left the room to cancel the appointment. When I returned, she still seemed a little disturbed. I got in bed with her and put my arm around her. I told her I was there to help her with anything she needed and that I would protect her. We were mostly silent for almost an hour before she spoke. She sounded more awake. I told her it was after 3:00 and wondered if she would like to get up. This time she agreed. She was at ease again.
I’m not sure I understand why. I do know that “things” in her brain are changing all the time. She can change very quickly. Typically, that happens after she rests. My own guess is that her mind wanders a lot and she begins to have delusions and/or hallucinations, some of which trouble her. In the case of not wanting to get up, being patient often works. Comforting her also helps to shift my role from being the bad guy who wants her to do something she doesn’t want to do to that of a partner who really cares and wants to help. There are still a lot of unsolved mysteries for someone caring for a loved one with dementia.
Something else unusual happened that day. As I was helping her dress, she mentioned that she was going to have a baby “tomorrow.” She often thinks of herself as a much younger single woman and mentions that she wants to have children someday, so I didn’t think much about it until she said something else a short time before going to dinner.
We were looking at a family photo book when she said, “Where is the baby?” Things like this always raise a question for me, “What do I say?” The reflexive answer is always “What baby?” or “We don’t have a baby.” I didn’t think they were appropriate. She obviously thought we had a baby. I saw her stuffed bear sitting in a chair a few feet from us and said, “Oh, he’s right there.”
When I do something like this, I am never certain that what I decided will work, but I felt my options were limited. This time I was successful. I brought the bear to her, and she took it in her arms and held it lovingly like a new mother holding her newborn. We spent the next 15 minutes talking about the baby. At one point, Kate spoke to her (the gender changes frequently) and said, “I love you.” Then she looked at me and said, “Did you hear that, she said, ‘I love you, too.’”
It was close to the time I planned for us to leave for dinner. When I mentioned that to Kate, she said, “What about the baby? I can’t leave her.” Then I dug myself a hole and climbed in. I told her I knew someone who could come over and pretended to make a phone call to him. I didn’t think this through but assumed she would forget before we left. Not so. For the next few minutes she waiting impatiently for his arrival. Then she got worried about leaving the baby. I told her he was a nurse with lots of experience, but she continued to be concerned.
My next attempt to address the situation was to tell her I could call him back and ask if he could meet us at the restaurant. She was fine with that. Once again, I depended on her inability to remember what we were going to do before getting to the restaurant.
She continued to hold the bear in her arms all the way to the restaurant and at least once or twice said something about our meeting the nurse. Fortunately, she completely forgot everything but her baby before we arrived. We got out of the car. She cuddled her bear in her arms, and we walked in.
The hostess took us to a table with just two chairs. I asked if she could bring us another just in case Kate wanted to put the bear in a chair while she ate. She brought one, but Kate continued to hold the bear in her arms. I wondered what she would do when the food arrived. I soon found out. She wanted to put the bear down but didn’t know where. I got up and took the bear and placed him in the third chair where she could see him. That worked. We had a good dinner. When we were through, I picked up the bear and gave him to her, and we walked out to the car. There were no more surprises that day.
(See the post above for Part 2.)
