“Little Things Mean A Lot

In 1954, Kitty Kellen‘s “Little Things Mean a Lot” was number one on the charts, selling over 1 million copies. I was 14 at the time, and I don’t think I really understood the meaning and relevance of the song’s message. Now that I’m closing in on 86, it means much more to me.

Sarah and I have lived well throughout our marriage. In fact, I would say it’s been a joyful adventure. That was true even during the early stages of her Alzheimer’s. Early on, we decided to enjoy life and each other for as long as we were able. We did that by binging on all the things we had enjoyed before Alzheimer’s entered the picture. That meant going to movies, theatrical and musical events, eating out, and traveling. During the first 10 years, we ate out for lunch and dinner more than 6000 times. We also attended many musical and theatrical events not only in Columbia, our hometown, but in cities that were within a two-hour drive from here.

Travel also played an important role in our lives. We took a safari in Tanzania where we got a close look at lions, elephants, zebras, and other wild animals that we had only seen in zoos. We swam with iguanas, turtles and other marine life in the Galapagos Islands; and on our last international trip in 2015, we paraglided off a mountain in Switzerland where we turned a somersault on the way down.

Those days came to an end in 2020 after Sarah had a traumatic experience during eight days in the hospital with Covid. She’s been in the last stage of Alzheimer’s ever since. Before that, our world was very large. Today, it is very small. Our biggest daily events are going to a café downstairs for ice cream at 3:30 in the afternoon and having dinner at 4:30.

In addition, we have great times when we are alone. Sometimes that happens in the morning when Sarah wakes up early and is in a talkative mood. More often, it happens at night. We talk while watching music videos on YouTube. Our biggest surprise is that while our world is much smaller now than in the early stages of the disease, we have found ways to live joyfully.

We’ve learned to enjoy the little things. Best of all is simply being together. Every morning when she wakes up, I remind her that our first date was to a performance of Handel’s “Messiah” and that we enjoyed the performance, but being together was the highlight of the evening. That is still the case today.

I often refer to those times as “Happy Moments”. We’ve had quite a few of those in the past week. One of those days, she woke up at 6:30 in the morning, cheerful and talkative. That continued until she went to sleep that night. The other days were not as spectacular, but they, too, were punctuated with Happy Moments. Kitty Kallen was right. “Little Things Mean A Lot”.

Another Anniversary

Sarah and I celebrate another anniversary today. No, it’s not our wedding anniversary. That comes up in May. It’s not the anniversary of our first date. We celebrated that in December. The one we celebrate today is the fifteenth anniversary of Sarah’s diagnosis with Alzheimer’s.

We aren’t celebrating the fact that she got the diagnosis. It’s the fact that although our lives have changed dramatically since then, we are still enjoying life and each other. From the start, that was our goal, but we never imagined that we would be able to say that fifteen years later. We were simply doing the best we could as she was losing her memory. Along with that came her inability to do many of the things she had done before.

I am copying below my blog post on the first anniversary of her diagnosis. It deals with the changes that were occurring at that time.

January 21, 2012 by Richard Creighton

One Year Since Diagnosis

One year ago today, we met with Dr. Reasoner to receive the news that Kate’s results showed she has AD. During that year I have noted apparent declines in her memory, sometimes not quite sure whether the changes were real or not because they can be so subtle and similar to what we all do. At this point, there is no doubt that she has declined in a perceptible way.

A week ago last night we got back from our trip to Africa (Tanzania) with OAT. It was a great trip that we both enjoyed far more than anticipated. On the other hand, I felt as though I had to be watching and helping her every step of the way. I am having to assume more and more responsibility for everything.

She continues to get along well in normal interactions with people. I don’t think anyone on the trip would suspect her condition. Neither do I think our children or close friends suspect. I do sometimes wonder about her best friend, because she and Kate have had so many opportunities to talk and socialize together.

The most distressing thing to me is that Kate is so frustrated over her inability to do many things that she would have been able to do before. In the last 2 days she has commented that it’s the little things that bother her the most. From my perspective that would include things like remembering how to charge her cell phone or how to deal with a technician on the help line. She has great difficulty following a set of instructions. They simply overwhelm her. In our personal conversations when she indicates a problem and I automatically try to explain, she stops me because she can’tunderstand.

The whole situation makes me recall times when I hear people say something like, “Well, at least she doesn’t know.” I heard this when my mother was in the early stages. Kate is keenly aware that her memory is declining. She sees how much of her time is spent looking for simple things like car keys, her purse, etc.

It has gotten so bad that I feel I can’t depend on her to do anything. I either have to do it myself, or follow her to see that it is done. While on the trip, she picked out a bag to bring back to Doris. We bought it along with a couple of other things. Then after eating lunch (this was in our lodge) she went back into the gift shop. I saw her looking at the bags again and asked what she was looking for. She told me she was looking for a bag for Doris. She had not remembered buying the first one only 45 minutes to an hour earlier.

She is clearly discouraged. She is not sleeping well. I am not sure, however, how much is a result of jet lag and how much is anxiety over her condition. I think it is some combination of both.

Over the past year, I have cited specific instances of her memory failure. I suspect I may do less of that as so much occurs that I can’t recall the instances without writing things down at the time, and I find that impossible.

We enjoyed the Africa trip so much and are looking at possible trips to New Zealand, the Galapagos, Russia, and China. I fear, however, that our travels may be heavily influenced by her condition. Right now, for example, I am thinking of taking an OAT trip to New Zealand next January (2013), but I wonder whether or not that will be a good idea. I do believe we could do a cruise, but half of the time is spent on the water. I will wait until later in the year to see how things are going. I need to be honest about my own anxieties. This is a very trying time for me. My business is so bad that I had to let Regina go before Christmas. She had been with me for 28 years. Now I am wondering how long I can keep the doors open. Dad requires attention. This week he spent 2 days in the hospital. I am spending less time in the office. I need to spend more time with Kate. It is a difficult time. I am not sleeping as well as I used to.

Ending the Year on a High Note

A large number of my posts in 2025 have focused on Kate’s unexpected progress. Even during the past few weeks, she has waked up with a smile more often than in the past few years. In addition, she seems to recognize me more often. More often than not, she has especially “Happy Moments” as we get her to bed. During this time, she talks and laughs. It’s a wonderful way to end the day. This has truly been a good year for us.

I can’t predict the future, but I am hopeful that in the year ahead I will continue to report good news. I am not naïve. I recognize that we have lived this way longer than the statistics would have predicted. I intend to stick with our plan to enjoy life and each other for as long as we can and be grateful for every Happy Moment that is ours. Wishing you and your family Happy Moments as well.

Happy Days From Morning to Night

Five years ago this month, Kate had Covid and spent eight days in the hospital. That was the catalyst that pushed her into Stage 7 Alzheimer’s, the last stage. Since then, she has required total care. We feed her, bathe her, dress and change her, and get her in and out of bed and wheelchair with a lift. None of us would like to be in her position. The fantastic thing is that she is happy.

I often comment about the “Happy Moments” she experiences. These are times when she seems to be at ease. She smiles. She laughs. She talks, although we can’t understand most of what she says because of her aphasia.

She has moments like this every day. I refer to them as “moments” because they do not occur throughout the day. Her day is also filled with what I call “Neutral Moments” when she is neither happy nor sad.

Once in a while, her days are filled with “Happy Moments” from morning to night. On days like that, she is cheerful when she begins the day and retains her cheerful spirit as we put her to bed.

Yesterday was one of those days. In fact, I believe it was the best day I have seen since before she had Covid. It was thrilling for me and for many others who hadn’t seen her like this before.

I don’t predict her behavior, so I don’t know if we will have a repeat of yesterday. I do know that she’s been getting better for the past two or three years. That is especially true for the past month. I also know that one day she will take a downward turn. In the meantime, I will treasure every moment or day I have with her.

A Special Surprise

Life is full of surprises. I find that is especially true with Kate while “Living with Alzheimer’s”. Even more surprising is that many of the surprises during Stage 7 (the last stage) have been happy ones. One of those occurred yesterday.

I often comment about our “Happy Moments” that occur when she is cheerful. I call them moments because they happen off and on, not all day. Yesterday was special. It began just before 8:00 am when I heard her say something. I went to the bedroom to check on her and found that her eyes were open. As I approached her, she gave me a big smile, clearly recognizing me —something that doesn’t happen most mornings. We chatted briefly before I went to the kitchen to get her morning meds.

After giving her the meds, she was still in a very cheerful mood. I took that opportunity to hop into bed beside her. That began an hour-and-a-half conversation. As always, I understood little of what she said, but it was clear that she was happy. She laughed as she told me whatever was on her mind. It was a great way to begin the day.

She was still happy when I left for my weekly Rotary meeting. Upon returning, she greeted me with a beautiful smile. Later, when we went out for ice cream, she was still cheerful and surprised two residents who come by to see her almost every afternoon. Both of them got to see her smiling and talking. They look for that every day, but it only happens once in a while.

We closed the day with a very special time after the caregiver left at 7:00. She didn’t say much. I did most of the talking. I recounted a number of special times together going back to our dating, marriage, and having children. She continued smiling, and we both drifted off to sleep with music playing in the background.

It was the kind of day we could never have imagined following her diagnosis. We are fortunate and very grateful to enjoy life and each other so late in our journey with Alzheimer’s.

Why Have We Gotten Along So Well?


Why have we gotten along so well?

After Kate’s diagnosis on January 21, 2011, we talked a lot about how we wanted to respond. We decided to simply enjoy life and each other as long as we could. At the time, we were uncertain how long that would be. We just began living in the moment, and that has paid great dividends.

Looking back, I believe there are two major reasons for our success. The first is that we accepted the losses we have encountered (and still encounter) and focus on what remains.

The second reason is that when we chose to “enjoy life and each other,” it led to activities that Kate could appreciate. Progressively, she lost many abilities. We let go of the activities that required those abilities and focused on things she could still enjoy. For almost five years, she has been in the last stage of Alzheimer’s (Stage 7), but we are still able to find ways to enjoy life and each other.

That’s because the things we chose to enjoy have been things like music that she can appreciate intuitively via her senses. We have binged on music since her diagnosis. The other is that we have remained as socially active as possible. I should also add that I have smothered her with affection. She knows she is loved.

A Big Surprise

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Last night, Sarah surprised me with a “Happy Moment” that I won’t soon forget. We were in bed after the caregiver left. We typically spend a while watching YouTube videos, but I decided to try something different. I put on a DVD of ”The Sound of Music.”

I was hesitant about doing this because she hasn’t enjoyed watching TV for several years. Even when I have YouTube videos running, she doesn’t seem to watch. She just listens.

To help her follow along, I told her about the characters and what was happening. I was surprised to see that she seemed to follow and enjoy the movie. Although I couldn’t understand most of what she said, her smiles, laughter, and other audible reactions conveyed her feelings.

As it came time for us to call it a night, I asked if she would like to finish the movie “tomorrow” and listen to some of our audio music until we fell asleep. She rarely gives an answer to such questions, but she moved her head to say “No” and smiled when I said I would leave the movie on.

Ultimately, I did turn off the movie and put on some music. I hadn’t seen her engaged in anything on television in a long time. It was a beautiful way to end what was already another nice day with the love of my life.

Happy Moments Keep Coming

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Over the past week, Kate has had more Happy Moments than usual. This goes along with the gradual improvement that began 2-3 years ago. Saturday was an especially Happy Day. She was cheerful most of the day and into the evening. When she was having her afternoon ice cream, the two residents who drop by almost every day came by to catch a smile. They hit the jackpot. She not only smiled, but she also talked and laughed with them. At one point, one of them said, “What are you laughing at?” Kate quickly and clearly said, “At you!”

Improving at Stage 7 Alzheimer’s. Can it be?

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Like many other people, I’ve often thought the progression of Alzheimer’s involves the loss of one ability after another, and there is truth to that. Fifteen years ago, Kate was driving, active on her computer, and tending to her plants at our house for hours each day. Today, she can’t walk, bathe, dress herself, or talk in a way that we can understand.

What is amazing is that she has improved in important ways over the past two to three years. She is happier now and although mornings are her most difficult time of the day, she often awakes in a cheerful mood.

I frequently talk about her “Happy Moments”. These are moments when she is cheerful and often accompanies that by talking. I use the term “moments” because her mood comes and goes throughout the day. She shifts between Happy Moments and what I call “Neutral Moments”. That is the way she is much of the time; however, during the past week, she has experienced more Happy Moments than usual.

One of those occurred on Labor Day morning. She was smiling when I first noticed that she was awake. After giving her morning medications, she began to talk. I got into bed with her to take advantage of the moment. She said, “It’s good to see you.” That may not seem special, but it is for someone who doesn’t speak at all most of the time, and when she does, you can’t understand her.

She continued to be cheerful off and on throughout the entire day. We went for ice cream that afternoon. As I was about to put the ice cream on the table, she said, “That’s mine.” It was Labor Day, and a few minutes later, I said, “It’s so quiet today. They don’t have many activities going on.” Kate immediately gave a startled look that meant “Really?” Responses like this let us know that she follows and understands much of what I and others say.

Moments like these make it clear to me that all is not lost with Alzheimer’s, not even during the late stages. She is still able to connect with people, and it appears that she enjoys it. I think there are a number of reasons for her improvement. I’ll save that for another post, but I hope that our experience might be encouraging to other families with a loved one who has dementia. I am sure that Kate isn’t the only one who could improve at this point in the disease.

My Favorite Part of the Day

I’ve often noted that mornings are the most challenging part of the day for Kate. That is a time when she smiles and talks less than she does later in the day. Although that continues to be the case, she does smile and talk a little more in the morning than she has in years.

Having said this, the late afternoon and evening remain the times she is more comfortable and at ease, which leads to more smiling and talking. My favorite time of the day is after the caregiver leaves at 7:00. Our primary responsibilities are over, and we can relax together.

Not always, but very often, we spend our time talking while watching music videos on YouTube . It is our conversations that I enjoy the most. They are quite different from our pre-Alzheimer’s conversations. The disease and especially the loss of normal speech make it difficult to understand what she is saying.

What is important to me is that she is relaxed. She is eager to talk. She is happy. She is also more comfortable talking with me than most people she encounters during the day. That tells me that our relationship is still special for her, just as it is for me, and that means the world to me.