Yesterday, I worked on a draft of a new post focusing on Kate at this stage of her Alzheimer’s. I haven’t finished, but we had an experience during the afternoon that I decided to tell you about first.
I often think of the fact that our relationship has changed so radically over the course of Kate’s Alzheimer’s. Many things that were a regular part of our lives are now gone, but love remains and makes itself known to each of us every day. One of the changes is that she no longer does things with the deliberate intent of making me feel happy.
When she does express her affection for me, and I don’t believe a day passes without her doing so, it is a simple, often non-verbal, expression of her love. That would not be enough for some people, but it is for me. The impact of simply reaching for my hand has great impact, something that would not have had the same value early in our relationship.
We had one of those experiences yesterday. The caregiver and I started to take her out for a stroll around the hallways and to get a milkshake when she became upset. She refused to put her feet on the footrests of the wheelchair. That not only makes it harder to push her, it runs the risk of twisting her feet and legs as she drags them on the floor. I suggested to the caregiver that we back off, give up the idea of going out, and just focus on calming her. She was sulking as we went out on the balcony.
I put on some music that I thought might calm her. Then I took her hand and spoke to her very gently. I expressed my love for her and talked about our falling in love in college, getting married and having children. I spent at least 30 minutes doing this without her displaying any change in mood. Then I said something she thought was funny. She smiled and laughed. I said, “I guess you think I’m a silly guy.” She responded quickly and firmly with a “No.” That opened the door for me to mention how much I like her smile.
We sat quietly for a few minutes while the music played. Then she looked at me while pulling her hands together and held them close to her chest as though she were trying to tell me something. She followed that by extending her hand to me. I reached out to take it, and she pulled it to her chest and held it tightly. We looked in each other’s eyes, and I said, “I love you. I always have. I always will.” It was a tender, yes, romantic moment, for both of us.