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“All Is Well That Ends Well”

Thanks to everyone for your kind words of encouragement as I faced a minor bump in the road with the norovirus. I discovered one good thing about the virus: It is short-lived, often lasting only 3-4 days. In my case, it was 3 days. I know of several other people for whom it lasted only 2 days.

More importantly, Kate has shown no signs of catching it. I still have my fingers crossed, but it looks like she may have escaped.

As I said in my previous post, we all encounter surprises that require our immediate attention away from other things that are more important to us. In my case, Kate has always been my primary concern, and I am grateful that, as of today, she remains happy and safe.

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There Are Always Surprises

People “Living with Alzheimer’s” face frequent surprises, just like everybody else. I caught the norovirus this past Friday. Based on what I’ve heard from others, my case seems to be somewhat milder than they have experienced.

My primary symptom is an upset stomach. I was up four times on Friday night to toss up whatever I had in my stomach. There wasn’t anything left on the fourth try. I got a prescription for nausea that works reasonably well. I will run out of that today and hope that is all I need.

In addition to the stomach problem, I’m not as “peppy” as I usually am. I’m not a napper and hadn’t taken a nap in more than twenty years, but I took a 30-45-minute nap on Saturday and Sunday.

Of course, my primary concern is Kate. The last thing I would want is for her to catch it. I’m working hard to avoid direct contact with her, but that is difficult. So far, she is fine. She had an especially good day yesterday. She was very cheerful and talkative. That certainly brightened my spirits.

Once again, I am experiencing the benefits of living in a retirement community like Still Hopes. Our doctor’s office is downstairs and a short walk down the hallway to the building next door. My next-door neighbor brought me a package of disinfectant wipes and bottles of flavored water to help me avoid dehydration.

I’m optimistic that I’ll soon be well again and trust that Kate will be able to avoid getting the virus. Time will tell.

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One Fine Day

I often mention the “Happy Moments” that Kate and I share. I chose that expression to convey that these are not continuous experiences; however, we are fortunate that they occur every day. Some days we have more happy moments than other days. Once in a while, we have a day filled with them. We had one of those the other day.

Kate began the day in a cheerful mood. She smiled, and she talked. It was one of those mornings when I got in bed with her, and we talked with music playing in the background. I love moments like this because they seem like we are connecting the way we did before Alzheimer’s, even though she can’t recall past events or speak in a way that I can understand.                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Later, she talked and laughed as the caregiver and I got her ready for the day. That’s saying a lot because she doesn’t like being rolled to one side and then the other in order to get her dressed.

She remained in this mood for the balance of the day until we turned the lights out that night.

Like so many things, I can’t explain what brought this about. I only know that it was “One Fine Day”. The days since then haven’t been quite the same, but they have been days of more Happy Moments than usual. Moments like this won’t last forever, but we will enjoy and cherish them whenever they occur.

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Nighttime Conversations

Kate has never been a morning person. That has never been truer than during the middle and late stages of her Alzheimer’s. She rarely speaks in the morning. Sometimes cheerfulness and speech make their first appearance in mid-afternoon, often as we have ice cream shortly after 3:30. Sometimes it doesn’t happen until dinner, or even later.

For me, our evenings together are among the best times of the day. We watch music videos on YouTube and talk. I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s hard for me to adequately express in words. Last night, I took a few videos and attached them to a post on Facebook.

I like to think that Kate would forgive me for letting the public in on private moments like this when she is in bed in her bed clothes and her hair messed up. Despite this, I believe it’s a beautiful example of how happy she is and why this is my favorite part of the day. She still captures my heart as we approach our 62nd anniversary. Not even Alzheimer’s has been able to take this away from us.

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More Happy Moments

Kate continues to experience more “Happy Moments” than she did 3-4 years ago. That has been especially true during the past couple of weeks. I often say that I can never predict how she will feel. She can be happy at one moment and withdrawn the next; however, I have come to expect her to be more at ease after 3:00 in the afternoon and often until she goes to sleep at night. That had not been so predictable since her stroke three years ago.

After the caregiver left last night, she and I experienced a Happy Moment that I would call very romantic. I was beside her in bed with my head on her shoulder. We watched a DVD of the 2025 anniversary concert of Les Miserables, our favorite musical.

Touch is more important to her now than at earlier stages, perhaps because she has aphasia. As we enjoyed the music, I put one hand across her stomach, and she put her hand on my hand. In a few moments, she began to stroke my hand gently. As I often do, I talked with her about some of the special times we had had in the past. She didn’t say much, but she was able to communicate her affection with beautiful smiles as I talked. This lasted for about an hour until the concert was over, and we called it an evening.

Her Alzheimer’s, her hospitalization with Covid, and her stroke made this romantic evening different than it might have been in years past, but there was a connection between us that made this particular moment as romantic as any we have ever experienced. We have lost much since her diagnosis fourteen years ago, but we still enjoy life and each other.

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A Morning Surprise

We’re off to a good start today. Our housekeeper arrived at 8:15, and I was in the bedroom with Kate. She came to the door and said, “Knock Knock” to let us know she was coming in. Kate immediately said, “Hi” and laughed. Until that moment, she hadn’t said a word or shown any signs of being awake. It was great to start the day with a “Happy Moment”. I don’t know exactly when, but I feel sure there will be more such moments. There usually are.

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An Amazing Day

For years, I’ve noted that mornings are Kate’s most difficult part of the day. I call this her neutral time. Typically, she is not cheerful. As she gets more stimulation throughout the day, she becomes happier. Her best time of the day is generally late afternoon and evening; however, a change has taken place over the past year or so. She occasionally wakes up earlier and with a smile, but it doesn’t usually continue all-day.

During the past few weeks, she has become more cheerful at various times of the day. Saturday was one of those days. It began early in the morning when I walked into the bedroom to see if she might be awake. Her eyes were closed, but she had a smile on her face. I walked over to her bedside and ran my hand across the top of her head as I often do. She gave me a bigger smile. She knew who was stroking her hair. Then she began to talk. As usual, I couldn’t understand much of what she said, but it was clear that she was happy and enjoyed talking. I wanted to take advantage of the moment and spent a good part of the morning next to her in bed.

We had a different caregiver that day. She had been with us once before, but it had been more than a year since we had seen her. I thought that might have an effect on Kate’s mood. I quickly discovered I was wrong. Kate’s cheerfulness continued throughout the whole process of getting her up. She even laughed a few times. That is saying a lot because she doesn’t like to be rolled back and forth to take off what she is wearing and replace it with her clothes for the day.

When I left for lunch, she was eating and still happy. Upon my return, I found her listening to the caregiver who was reading to her. She greeted me with a big smile. Then she and I talked for a while. She is often happy when I come home, but her facial expressions on this day conveyed that she was especially happy.

A little later, we went to a café downstairs. While Kate was eating ice cream, she and the caregiver talked as though they were longtime friends. That is very unusual. Normally, Kate is pretty quiet when we go out. Another resident stopped by to say hello and was amazed to see Kate so talkative. From there we went to dinner and then back to the apartment for the night. Kate continued her cheerful mood. She and I talked and listened to music on YouTube until she fell asleep. It was an amazing day.

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Off to Another Good Start

One year ago today, I wrote a blog post entitled “2024: Off to a Good Start.” One year later, I have the same feeling. Of course, I don’t know what lies ahead, but I know that Kate made progress throughout 2024. Not only that, she experienced significantly more “Happy Moments” during the latter part of the year. And yesterday, the first day of 2025, she had a wonderful day. She was cheerful in the morning and continued throughout the day until she fell asleep last night. She smiled and talked all day. We topped it off with a great evening today. Even though I couldn’t understand much of what she said, it was wonderful engaging in the conversation.

This morning got off to a good start when I walked in the bedroom and saw her smiling. Then she said, “Thank you” with an even bigger smile. I don’t know who she was thanking, but she has hallucinations. I suspect she saw someone who did something nice. For me, it’s great just to know that she is happy.

May the New Year bring happiness and joy to you and your families!

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Living Joyfully During the Holiday Season

The Christmas season has always been special for Kate and me. We had our first date on December 19, 1961. Exactly one year later we became engaged. Since then we have celebrated the season in many ways. Like most people, much of that involved time with family, but we have also made December trips to places like New York City, London, Paris, Vienna, London, and several locations in Germany.

Life is very different now. We gave up international travel in 2015 and travel to our children’s homes in 2018. Since then, we have celebrated the season at home. Now that Kate is in the last stage of Alzheimer’s and requires total care for all of her daily activities, we don’t get out except within the halls of our retirement community.

Despite these changes, we are living joyfully this Christmas. Living in our retirement community has provided us with a considerable amount of social contact and special events of the season; however, sharing the season with Kate has made this a Very Merry Christmas for me.

By now, most of you know that music has played a major role in our lives, so it should not surprise you that we have binged on holiday music day and night the past few weeks. More importantly, Kate seems to have risen to the occasion. She has been unusually cheerful and talkative, especially in the past two weeks. For example, almost every day in the past week, she has given me a smile when I greeted her in the morning. That is significant because her mornings are the time of day she is least likely to smile or talk.

Her afternoons, especially after 3:30, are her best time of day, but they have been even better this week. Our regular caregiver was out a few days, and we had several others filling in. I might have thought this would have a negative effect on her, but it hasn’t. She has been just as cheerful with them and other residents.

Our evenings are often special. Three nights ago was a good example. Kate was unusually talkative and spent the better part of an hour talking to me. She was trying to tell me about some experience she had had. As she talked, she laughed at a number of things she said. Of course, none of what she said had actually occurred, and I wasn’t able to understand most of what she said; however, she was happy. I was too.

Yesterday was the sixty-third anniversary of our first date. We didn’t go out for dinner. We ate in the dining room of our retirement community as we do every night, but we were together. Nothing could be better than that. We are, indeed, living joyfully this Christmas season.

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Our Relationship at Stage 7 Alzheimer’s

From time to time, people have asked if Kate still knows me. That’s a good question for which there isn’t a simple answer. It depends on what one means by “knowing.” My answer is “Yes, she does,” but I don’t believe she always remembers my name or that I am her husband. I know that one night last week, she looked at the caregiver and said, “Where is Richard?” She often recognizes me as someone familiar and someone she likes.” Every day she shows signs that this is so.

On the other hand, there are frequent times when it appears that she doesn’t recognize me at all and doesn’t have any special feelings for me. That is most common in the morning and began more than five or six years ago. Some mornings, she seems to recognize me immediately and gives me a big smile. That happened yesterday morning. She was very happy to see me. She frequently responds the same way when I return home from lunch.

She is most likely to “know” me in the evening after the caregiver leaves. In those moments she connects with me in a way that suggests a closer relationship than she has with other people. I suspect some of that is brought on by what I say to her. I always recount memories from past events in our relationship. She responds with loving smiles that tell me that those memories and I am special to her.

Most evenings, she is not talkative but conveys her feelings with her facial expressions, by holding my hand and running her fingers across my hand and arm. Some nights and a few mornings, she is talkative. We’ve had a good number of those in the past few weeks. One evening in the past few days we talked more than thirty minutes. These are moments I treasure.

Another time when she conveys that she knows me is when we are getting her up and putting her to bed. We have to roll her on her side in bed to dress and undress her. I always assist the caregiver who stands on Kate’s side of the bed and rolls Kate closer to her. I get in bed on the other side of Kate and put my right arm under her shoulder and my left hand on her thigh to roll her to me. I continue to hold her in my arms while the caregiver does what she needs to do.

Kate doesn’t like being rolled; however, she relaxes when she is in my arms. She affectionately runs her hands across my back. Frequently, she talks to me in a very natural way, and, sometimes she laughs as she speaks. Strange as it seems these are moments involving a physical and emotional connection. They are romantic moments for us. Yes, she knows me, and our love is still alive although it is expressed in ways we could not have imagined before.

It doesn’t matter to me whether she remembers my name or that I am her husband. Our relationship remains strong. For that, I am grateful.