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Minor Events Seem Bigger in Times Like These

In my last post, I noted how the coronavirus pandemic is affecting Kate and me. My emphasis was the impact of not being able to eat out for lunch and dinner. I didn’t mention that some of the normal daily happenings can seem more troublesome than they might under ordinary circumstances. Several of those have occurred this past week.

Monday night, I changed the sheets on our bed. As I was putting the fitted bottom sheet on. I reached under the mattress to pull the sheet as tight as I could. I hit the knuckle of my right index finger on the bed frame. It was a minor injury, but I started to bleed. I went to look for a bandage and a found an old box with various small sizes. Finding the right one was a struggle as I tried to keep blood from dripping all over the place while I searched.

I had given Kate her iPad to work on puzzles while I made up the bed. She kept getting in trouble and asking for my help. That was fine until I cut my finger. My priority was getting it bandaged. She was impatient. I tried to explain that I had cut my finger and needed a few minutes. I don’t think she ever grasped what had happened. As quickly as I could, I cleaned up my finger and bandaged it.

Tuesday morning, I had a 10:45 appointment for labs at my doctor’s office. When I tried to get Kate up she balked. There was no moving her. My desire to be on time made me a little anxious. I made a call to my office and asked if one of my colleagues could stay with her. Barbara came right out.

As I was about to drive away from the doctor’s office, I felt something wet on my arm. I realized quickly that I must be bleeding although it didn’t show through the material. I keep napkins in the car for Kate and picked up a couple to stop the bleeding. Then I had a second thought. The doctor’s nurse would be able to handle this better than I. I went back in, and she took care of it.

As I said at the top, these are minor events, but they seem bigger with all the other changes that we are experiencing. I just like for things to go smoothly. As our current situation suggests, that doesn’t always happen even when you are in the middle of a much bigger crisis.

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Not Everything Has Changed for Us

NOTE: The following post was uploaded shortly before all restaurants in our area were closed. We will be eating at home with takeout from a few restaurants and meals prepared at home for the others.

As I write this post, the world is trying to adapt to significant changes related to the Coronavirus. WHO has declared a pandemic. Colleges and universities are extending spring break or cancelling classes for the balance of the semester. The NBA suspended its season. March Madness is off. Disneyland and Disney World are closed. And millions of people in the US and around the globe are making their own personal adjustments to the threat of Covid-19.

Kate and I are making our own changes. That is not new for us. We’ve been doing that for the past nine years since Alzheimer’s entered our lives. The fact that we eat out for both lunch and dinner every day is of special concern, however, and I am looking at that very carefully.

Getting food is not the problem. It’s the fact that we eat out for all our lunches and dinners. Of course, I can prepare meals at home or have them delivered, but that requires a life change that has been critical in our minimizing the impact of Alzheimer’s. It has helped to keep us from feeling socially isolated. It’s a change I don’t want to make, but we have made many changes already and have adapted well. I believe we will do the same this time.

That prompted me to think about some of the previous changes we’ve made. Kate gave up her position as our church librarian even before the diagnosis. She knew she wasn’t handling the job (even as a volunteer) the way she felt she should. I began a phased-in retirement to take care of her. Kate replaced her responsibilities with the library by working in the yard and working on a family photo book on her computer. Early on, I became the sole driver when Kate had an accident that totaled her car. I took over management of the household. I cut back on my volunteer activities at church and in the community. We discontinued international travel. We stopped making our annual trips to Chautauqua. We gave up all evening events except our music nights at Casa Bella that begin at 6:00 and end between 8:15 and 8:30. Kate had pruned the shrubbery so severely that many died and others didn’t have anything left to prune. She lost the ability to use the computer. That left her with the iPad that she has used so much until recently. Now she is having great difficulty working her jigsaw puzzles. We stopped making trips to see our children and grandchildren. Movies used to be an important source of entertainment. We saw only two last year, and Kate only enjoyed one of them.

Eating out has helped us maintain our quality of life. I am not yet planning to stop, but I do want to be prudent. Friday afternoon I made an unusual trip to the grocery story. Typically, I go once a week to buy eggs, V8, and bananas for my breakfast as well as a few other incidentals. Friday’s trip was for some frozen items as well as assorted foods that I can prepare at home. I didn’t buy a lot. I just wanted to make sure we have enough food for several days. During that time, I will reassess the situation and make further plans. I believe the probability of receiving or passing the virus is greater at some restaurants than others. We ate lunch at Applebee’s on Friday. No one was there when we arrived. Only three tables were occupied when we left. Bluefish Grill has very few customers for Saturday lunch, and they are spread out. That was true this past Saturday. Our Sunday lunch place seats almost 200. I counted thirty while we were there yesterday. Unfortunately, our regular music nights at Casa Bella appear to be the biggest threat. The crowd numbers about sixty in close proximity. The same is true for our regular pizza place.

We ate at home the past two nights. Saturday, I cooked boneless, skinless chicken thighs in a tomato sauce with Italian seasoning. Kate is not a vegetable eater, so I served fresh fruit salad with blueberries, bananas and apples. Last night, I added bouillon to the leftover thighs and sauce and made a soup. We had a very pleasant time both nights. In a way, sitting down at our own table was almost like a treat.

Looking ahead, I see a downside that I will have to address. Cooking adds a new element of stress. I have only so much time for all my activities, most of which involve caring for Kate. I skipped the Y on Friday to grocery shop. The preparation of a meal as well as the clean-up afterwards takes time I could do other things. This is a little thing, but I am reminded of why I was initially motivated me to eat out in the first place. It was only later that I came to realize its social benefits. I believe one reason I have been able to manage stress as well as I have is that I have worked to minimize the things I have to do on a daily basis. Cooking our meals is not something to which I look forward. I am going to assume this will be temporary, and plan for to eat out less. We have adapted before. We will continue to do what we need to.

As I think about all our changes, I have to say that one very important thing hasn’t changed – our relationship. What I mean is the feelings that Kate and I have for each other have remained strong. I would say even stronger than before Alzheimer’s. Each of us places more value on the other and recognizes it.

Kate may not always remember my name or that I am her husband, but she continues to feel comfortable with me. She is especially insecure now and looks to me for help with everything. Interestingly, she has called me by name more often in the past few weeks or months than she has for a year or two. I think that is a case of “reflexive memory.” She calls my name most when she needs something, and that occurs more frequently now. The name just pops out. At other times she asks my name. It often happens while riding in the car, eating a meal, or when she wakes up in the morning. In moments like those, my name and relationship have slipped away. I imagine she is thinking, “I know this guy, but who in the world is he?”

She continues to be very appreciative. Two nights ago, as she was getting in bed, she thanked me for taking care of her. For a moment she was emotional and started to cry. She said, “You have such a load on you.”

She also likes to be with me. We share many tender moments in which we express our love for each other even when it doesn’t involve words at all. Sometimes we just sit side-by-side with my arm around her listening to music. Other times, we just hold hands. We don’t always need to express our love in words. I didn’t imagine it would be like this at the time of her diagnosis. That’s just one more reason I say we are fortunate. I am grateful.

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Delusions Seem to be Increasing

I’m not quite sure when Kate began to experience delusions and hallucinations. I do know I first mentioned it in a post almost exactly a year ago. She had experienced them periodically before then. Now they are commonplace.

Thursday afternoon after resting, she looked very concerned. I walked over to her recliner. I told her she looked worried. She nodded that she was. I asked if she could tell me about it. At first, she said she couldn’t. Then she started talking. She was worried about a young man that somebody wanted to kill. Our conversation lasted about ten minutes. As she talked, she mentioned the possibility of my helping the young man in some way. I assured her that I would. She was relieved. This is at least the third time she has mentioned something related to killing. Once she was worried because she thought someone wanted to kill her. Another time, she felt guilty because she had been aware of a killing sometime in the past and hadn’t told anyone.

That night after I joined her in bed she said she needed my help. This time she was talking about a young man who was very bright but didn’t have the resources to pay for college. She wanted my help in getting him some assistance. This is a theme that is similar to other delusions. As I have done before, I told her I would do everything I could to help.

Friday night, she had been trying with great effort to work her jigsaw puzzles. Her mind must have drifted off because she started talking about a couple who were considering divorce though she couldn’t think of the word. She wanted me to talk with either the man or the woman to see if I could help them. Again, she was all right when I agreed to help.

These experiences tend to occur after she has rested a while although not necessarily asleep. Not all of them are disturbing, but the ones that bother her stand out. On other occasions, she hallucinates. For example, at a restaurant the other night, she looked below the outer edge of my plate and smiled. Then she made a comment about a girl she thought was there. Occasionally, she looks up at the ceiling while she is resting and talks to someone she sees.

For the most part, Kate’s delusions don’t create a big problem. The exceptions are those that disturb her in some way. Fortunately, talking through the situation and my offering to help her seems to calm her.

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Another Successful Experience with Music

The first time I looked to music for therapeutic purposes with Kate was over eight years ago. We were getting ready to attend a concert by the Knoxville Symphony. Kate was very slow getting dressed. I reminded her several times that we needed to leave right away. This was not long after her diagnosis, and I hadn’t learned how important it is not to rush her. She had a panic attack. That meant I had to calm her. That helped, but she was still experiencing the attack when we got to the car. The first thing I did was put on the second movement of Brahms’ Violin Concerto. It’s a very peaceful movement, and I hoped that might calm her. It worked. After that, I developed a short playlist of the second movements of violin concertos of Brahms, Mendelssohn, and Tchaikovsky. We never had another severe panic attack, but she did have milder ones.

That playlist came in handy, and it motivated me to select a broad range of music to play in the car wherever we went. I still play music anytime we are in the car, and I’m careful to select music she especially likes. From there I expanded music at home. Now I rely on it all the time, and I am always discovering new applications. One of those occurred yesterday.

The recent Covid-19 pandemic is affecting everyone. I had been to the grocery store to get a few things in case we weren’t able to eat out. I returned home an hour after the sitter arrived. Although I knew I might run into trouble, I came back just to unload the groceries, some of which needed to be refrigerated or frozen.

As I walked into the kitchen, I saw that Kate was lying on the sofa with her eyes open. I felt I couldn’t leave without speaking to her. I sat down beside her and saw that she was disturbed. I asked what was wrong. She said, “I don’t know. I’m just not myself.” I talked to her very calmly for a few minutes but could tell this was going to take more time.

I told the sitter she could go and turned on “Send in the Clowns” sung by Barbra Streisand. This song has long been one of Kate’s favorites. It is usually very soothing. Not this time. It is a sad song, and, for the first time, she felt the sadness as opposed to the song’s beauty. I knew she needed something much lighter and thought of “A Bushel and a Peck” by Doris Day. I sometimes use this when I am trying to get her up in the morning. She recognized the song very quickly, and the two of us sang it together. She became more cheerful. We, accompanied by Doris, sang it two more times.

This had been successful but had only taken a few minutes. She and I sing together, at least for brief periods, periodically, but it is usually in the car. I decided it might be good if we sang more and streamed a 3-disc album of 100 children’s songs. We started with “The Alphabet Song.” Then we moved to the “Eensy, Weensy Spider.” For the next hour we sang songs we hadn’t heard since our own children were young, some not since we we were children ourselves. They included songs like “Polly-Wolly-Doodle,” “If You’re Happy,” “ The Bear Went Over the Mountain,” “Bingo,” “This Old Man,” “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” “Old McDonald,” “Do Lord,” “She’ll Be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain,” and many others. We must have sung 30-40 of the 100 and had a great time.

Music is powerful. It has saved us many times, and is always a source of great pleasure.

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Key Events from Yesterday

Kate has never been a breakfast eater. I am. The result is that we have eaten breakfast together only occasionally since we married now almost fifty-seven years ago. That has occurred most often when we were traveling and also periodically attending a monthly breakfast with a group from the Y. She got up early when the children were with us and when she was working, but she would quickly drink a glass of orange juice and eat a cup of yogurt. Now she generally sleeps until time for lunch. On those occasions when she gets up early, we go to Panera where she eats a blueberry muffin. When she gets up, I have already eaten. That came to an end yesterday.

I woke up about 3:00 yesterday morning and didn’t get back to sleep for a long time. As a result, I slept later than usual. I am sure the fact that it was only the second day of daylight saving time was also a factor. At any rate, I got up about 7:15 instead of 5:45 to 6:15 on most mornings.

It was close to 8:00 when I was about to fry a couple of eggs. I heard Kate say something and went to the bedroom. She greeted me warmly, but she was eager “to get outta here.” I told her I would be happy to take her. Normally I would take her to Panera, but this wasn’t a normal day. I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I decided to take her to Eggs Up Grill where we could have breakfast together.

I got Eggs Benedict, and Kate had blueberry pancakes. She hadn’t remembered what pancakes and syrup were, but she enjoyed every bite. It turned out to be a very nice way to begin the day. As happens when we go to Panera and back, she never mentioned wanting to “go home” or “get outta here” again (until next time).

Once home, she was ready to rest. I put on some relaxing music. She got on the sofa in the family room and went to sleep. She awoke about thirty minutes before the sitter was to arrive. I asked if she would like for us to look at one of her photo books. She liked the idea, and we sat together on the sofa and started one. It was only a few minutes before she said she was tired. She leaned her head on my shoulder, and we sat there listening to the music.

It was a very peaceful moment until I heard the doorbell ring. I told Kate it was the sitter and that I would be going to Rotary. I knew when I said it that the transition was too abrupt. She sat up straight, crossed her arms and gave me a dirty look. She was more disturbed than I would have expected. Fortunately, when she saw Cindy, she smiled and greeted her enthusiastically. I will make sure to follow my more typical pattern in the future. I like to stay a few minutes after the sitters arrive. I don’t have that much time on days when I have Rotary and will be more careful next time.

On the way to dinner, Kate told me that I take good care of her and continued to express her appreciation during the ten-minute drive to Chalupas for dinner. She emphasized that she could not live without me. I could tell by the way she said it that she understands just how dependent she is.

We had an unusual conversation at dinner. I wish I could tell you more about it. I had finished my meal and was waiting for Kate to finish hers when she started talking about the servers and kitchen help in the restaurants we frequent. This is not a new topic. She often asks me if I would like to have a job doing similar work. She seems to be worried about both the income that people make and the non-financial rewards that accompany this type of work. Her thinking goes beyond restaurants to many other types of jobs.

As she talked, it was clear that she was very relaxed. I think she was just enjoying talking. She failed to complete many of her sentences by saying, “You know” and then moving on. She also referred to “him” or “her” or “they” and “them.” That also made it difficult to understand who she was talking about. The topic also changed several times as well.

I paid our check, and she continued to talk. Several times I asked if she was ready to leave. Each time, she said, “In a few minutes.” I wasn’t able to make much sense of what she was saying, but she seemed happy that I was listening to her. After almost fifty minutes, she finally agreed to leave. The conversation ended after getting up from the table.

Kate continues to  be aware of many things she can’t do. That concerns her. I believe her talking this way was another instance of trying behave like a normal person. Conversations are difficult for her in terms of knowing what to say. When we are with other people, she also has trouble finding an appropriate entry point between the comments of the rest of us. I think the conditions were just right last night. It was just the two of us. We had had a relaxing meal. She was in the mood to talk, and I was a supportive listener. I just wish I could have understood what she said.

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Lots of Unpredictable Things, But There are Daily Patterns

I have come to appreciate the experiences of other caregivers who report the unpredictability of people with dementia. After seven or eight years of a rather steady daily routine, I don’t claim to be able to predict what Kate will be like from one moment to the next. There is one pattern, however, that seems to have emerged. Mornings are the most challenging times. The biggest problem is Kate’s waking and being confused or frightened. Thankfully, this doesn’t occur often, but it is strikingly different and more unpleasant than the way she has been in the past.

My way of making sense out of these experiences is to think how I would feel if I woke up and didn’t know where I was, who I was, or what I should do. Fright seems a natural reaction. It also makes sense to me that after being asleep all night, Kate hasn’t had any external stimulation that would give her a sense of comfort. Once she gets up and is exposed to the house, to me, and our routine, she feels more at ease. This usually occurs before we leave for lunch.

Some days I have to work harder, but very gently, to get her up and oriented. For example, yesterday morning I awoke about 5:00 and quickly decided to sleep another hour before getting up. At 5:45, Kate said, “Who is here?” I said, “I am.” She said, “Who are you?” I said, “Richard.” She didn’t say anything. I asked what I could do for her. She said, “I’m scared.” I asked if she could tell me what had scared her. She said, “I don’t know.” If it were not for our previous experiences and what I have learned about dementia, I might have probed to see if I could identify the problem. As it was, I know that when she says, “I don’t know,” I’m not likely to learn anything by asking questions.

I told her I wanted to help her. She asked my name again. Knowing that this might be a day when she sleeps later than usual, I asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom. She said she did and asked where it was. I told her I would show her. She was unsteady and confused.

When I got her back to bed, I asked if she wanted me to stay with her. She did. I got my laptop and took a chair beside the bed. I also played some relaxing music while she went back to sleep. Then I went back to the kitchen. It was over an hour before I went to the bedroom. I told her I wanted to invite her to lunch and asked if she would like to go with me. She did and got up and dressed rather easily. I think the key was not pushing her. It might not have been as easy for me if she hadn’t gotten up so early in the first place. We had plenty of time. We were the first people to arrive at the restaurant. That was a first.

She is generally all right in the afternoon, but in the past few months, she has experienced more delusions and/or hallucinations. This typically happens after she has been resting a while. I think that while resting she is drifting in and out of sleep and appears to have had a dream. She often talks to someone who is “not there” or to say something to me that suggests I have experienced whatever she has just experienced. The good thing is that she isn’t disturbed at all. Sometimes she is especially happy. That often happens when she believes she has an hallucination involving someone she apparently hasn’t seen in a long time. I say that because of the look on her face and the sound of the voice.

We had an experience yesterday afternoon that is a good example. She had been resting for more than two hours, and I walked into the kitchen for a few minutes. When I walked back into the family room, she got a big smile on her face and pointed to me. I said, “Well, I guess you recognize me?” She said, “Who are you?” I said, “Me.” She asked my name, and I told her and asked if it rang a bell. She wasn’t sure. I said, “I bet I know your name?” She said, “What?” When I told her, she said, “How did you know?”

I walked over to her and told her I knew a lot about her and her family. I don’t recall exactly what she said after that, but she conveyed that she didn’t know the words or how to say what she wanted to express but wanted to learn. She hoped I would be able to stay around so that she could learn from me. I told her I would be happy to teach her. I also said that she had a number of photo books with lots of information about her father’s and mother’s families as well as one her brother had given to her.

By then, it was time for dinner. I told her we could look at some of the books after we got home. As it turned out, she was tired and wanted to get ready for bed. She had forgotten about the books, but we will soon look at them as we do so often.

My explanation for this experience is similar to what I said about her morning fright. She isn’t frightened, but she has gone through a period of time (as long as two hours) when we have had minimal interaction. It’s not quite like the lengthy overnight absence of external stimulation, but it results in a sense of confusion. It’s as though the circuits of the brain have been asleep and need time to wake up.

Our evenings between returning home from dinner and going to sleep are clearly the most predictably happy and relaxed times of the day for both of us. By the time I get in bed, she has been there at least an hour. Except on the few occasions when she is sound asleep, she is always glad to see me. We often comment on having a nice day and express our love for each other. Then we peacefully drift off to sleep.

I believe the predictability relates to the fact that we have no commitments after dinner. It is simply a time to relax. I do try to keep to a routine bedtime for both of us, but that seems to occur without having to work. For at least an hour, I play YouTube music videos on the TV. Then I put on even more relaxing music on our audio system. It’s a peaceful time of the day.

Looking to the future, I suspect there will be a time when we start having lunch at home and, perhaps, separately. Doing so would prevent rushing her. Right now, I believe it is more important for us to maintain our active lives outside the home. In the meantime, I will continue to make the mornings as free of stress for Kate as I can. That means waking her gently and offering her comfort when she needs it.

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With a Little Bit of Help from Our Friends

Yesterday I received a private message from one of my Twitter friends who asked how I was getting along. He is a well-recognized speaker and advocate for caregivers. His primary message is the need for caregivers to get help. His book tells about his own experience of trying to do it all and the toll it had taken on him. I replied that I am still doing well and let him know a little about my support system. His question was timely since my experiences the past two days illustrate the kind of support that keeps both Kate and me going.

The first person to express concern about Kate was our pastor who, at that time, did not know about her diagnosis. He called to ask if he could take me to lunch. That was five or six months after we received the news of her Alzheimer’s. Toward the end of our meal, he took a more serious tone as he asked me how Kate was getting along. He caught me off guard. She had resigned her volunteer position as church librarian two years before, but I didn’t think anyone had suspected a problem. After all, Kate was still getting along quite well.

We have gotten together periodically since then. On two or three occasions, I met with him briefly at church. In recent years, Kate and I have joined him for lunch. One of those was Tuesday. These lunches have always gone well. Kate has been an active participant in our conversations. This week was no exception.

That same day I received a phone call from Dorothy Hinely, a longtime friend who lived in Knoxville many years prior to moving to Virginia. (We first met her in church about forty-five years ago. Our lives have been intertwined in a variety of ways since then. Our daughters are best friends.) She was in town and wanted to arrange a time for us get together. We settled on dinner Tuesday evening. We had much to talk about, and Kate handled herself well even though she couldn’t remember our history with Dorothy.

I serve on two different United Way committees, and one of those met yesterday at noon. Ordinarily, that would work fine because I have a sitter for Kate; however, the sitter doesn’t come until 1:00. On a previous occasion, I asked a church friend to take Kate to lunch at 11:30 and take her back home for the sitter. This time I asked my colleagues at the office if they could stop by Panera and join Kate for lunch. They were happy to do so. I was eager to know how things had gone, so I dropped by the office later that afternoon. I was pleased to hear them say that Kate had gotten along well. That makes me happy. It’s something I would not have expected when she was diagnosed.

Apart from special social occasions like these, many other people have played a role in supporting us. On Tuesday, we received a beautiful hydrangea from the young woman who usually serves us at the Sunset Café where we have lunch on Thursday. It’s the kind of thing one doesn’t expect at all.

Last week I got a call from a man who was a stranger until we met him at Panera three or four years ago. Several months ago, he and his wife moved into an assisted living facility on the far side of Knoxville. He invited us to be his guests for lunch.

Last night at dinner, we saw Kate’s doctor who stopped at our table to say hello. We have seen her at this restaurant and one other several times before. On the way out, we saw a man and his son whom we have seen many times. These were brief social encounters but ones that make both of us feel good.

We also keep up with several long term friends in Nashville. There is nothing like being with close friends with whom you have shared many experiences and changes in our lives since college days and shortly thereafter.

These are just a few examples of the kind of support we get. I find that it occurs everywhere we go.  We are not socially isolated. I suspect few, if any, of the people who play a role in supporting us realize how important they have been to us. Many of them don’t even know about Kate’s Alzheimer’s, but I consider all of them to be a part of our team.

I don’t mean to deny the difficult aspects of “Living with Alzheimer’s,” but we find acts of kindness all around us. That keeps us focused on how fortunate we are. Yes, Kate and I are getting along “remarkably well.” It’s clear, however, that we are not doing this alone. We get a lot of help from our friends, acquaintances, and even strangers. I am grateful.

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I May Not Understand It, But a Lot Is Going On in Kate’s Brain.

Over the past three days, Kate has displayed a variety of symptoms that illustrate how active her brain is even if it isn’t working the way it is supposed to. It began Friday morning when she experienced the kind of fright that kept her in bed all day a couple of times in the last three weeks.

Based on the previous experiences, I decided I would be more relaxed this time. When she said she didn’t want to get up, I lay down in bed and talked with her a few minutes. I had already put on some music. She liked it and asked me not to talk so that she could hear it. We listened a little while, and she began to perk up. That made me think getting her up might be easy. I was wrong. She told me she was scared. When I asked what she was scared of, she said she didn’t know. I remained in bed until she appeared to be asleep. Then I took a seat in a chair beside the bed.

I decided not to worry about our having lunch together. The sitter could do that. Half an hour before the sitter arrived, I told Kate the sitter was coming and wondered if she would rather that I or the sitter help her get up for the day. She said she would prefer that I do it. That was two hours from the time I had started to wake her.

She was able to get up without a problem and was ready when Cindy arrived. Kate thought I was going with them and gave me a disapproving look when I told her I wasn’t, but she didn’t say anything. I helped her into Cindy’s car, and they were off.

We went to a different pizza place that night. The hostess asked if we wanted a table or booth. Kate has been having trouble sliding across the seat of a booth, so I requested a table. Before we sat down, Kate said she didn’t like the table and pointed to a nearby booth. That’s the first time I recall her indicating a preference. I went back to the hostess stand and asked for that booth.

I almost always take her to the bathroom at home before going out but had not done so this time. Right after the server took our order, Kate wanted to go to the restroom. I asked the hostess if it was a restroom for one-person knowing that is better in terms of my going with her. She said it had three stalls. I discretely explained that Kate has Alzheimer’s, and I like to help her. She checked and found no one was in there. She said she would watch for anyone else who might want to use it. I accompanied her, and all went well. I was relieved. I feel much better when we can take care of toileting at home.

Back at our booth, Kate was concerned someone was out to get her. I asked who, but she didn’t know. She didn’t say anything more and quickly forgot. The balance of the day went well.

At 2:30 Saturday morning, she woke up and wanted to know what she should do. I told her it was the middle of the night, that she had no obligations and could relax and go back to sleep. We went through a number of variations on the same question and answer for about fifteen minutes before she went back to sleep.

At 5:00, she was awake again and wanted to go to the bathroom. I got up to help her, but she changed her mind. We talked for a short time before we were both asleep. We were going to a luncheon following a funeral mass for someone we know from our music nights at Casa Bella. I was concerned that I might have difficulty getting her ready. She surprised me as I began my morning walk. I saw that she was getting up. I went to her and found that she was wide awake. We made a trip to Panera and returned home where she rested.

While resting, she chuckled a good bit. When I asked what was so funny, she said, “You know.” A little later, she said, “Don’t you like the ‘try.’” I had no idea what was so funny or what she meant by “try.” Her confusion with words is getting worse. The easiest one for me to understand is “shows” for shoes. Sometimes she uses “shows” for socks.

I was a little concerned about the luncheon because I expected a crowd of people she wouldn’t know. That turned out not to be a problem. We were seated with two people we have known for a long time. Of course, Kate did not remember them, but she handled things well. She did ask a lot of questions that were obvious signs of her memory problems. These involved asking the name of the restaurant several times while sitting with the daughter of the woman whose mother opened the restaurant eighty years ago. We have been sitting her three nights a month for six years. The people at our table were very understanding.

It was very noisy. At first, that startled Kate, but she quickly adapted. When we left, she said she had enjoyed it. I was surprised because it was just the kind of situation I try to avoid because it can be so hard for her.

When we returned home, she wanted to rest again. After a while, I noticed that she was uneasy. I asked if there was anything I could do to help her. She said there was and began a lengthy conversation similar to others we have had. She was worried about a young man. She said that I know him, but she couldn’t think of his name. I tried guessing. That didn’t help.

What I learned was that she wanted to offer some financial help to this man. As she talked, she moved from talking about this specific man to a program to help promising boys and girls who did not have the financial resources to enable them to continue their education after high school.

She wanted my advice. This was very much like a recent middle-of-the-night conversation. She talked about helping people in her hometown of Fort Worth and was concerned about locating young people and a person or organization to administer the program. I gave her several ideas, and she asked if I would coordinate everything. I agreed, and she felt better about.

There is more, but I will continue in another post.

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Something Old, Something New

For the past few years, Kate as worked jigsaw puzzles on her iPad while I watched the evening news. Now that she is less able to work her puzzles, we are trying to adapt. Without her iPad, she has little to do in the evening. When we return home from dinner, I usually ask if she would like to work on her puzzles. Sometimes she does; sometimes she doesn’t.

Last night, she asked if there was something she could read. What she was really asking is “What can I do now?” I always mention her puzzles, one of her family photo books, watch the news with me, or watch musical performances on YouTube. Last night, she said she wanted to work puzzles. I brought her iPad to her, but she changed her mind. Then I handed her the “Big Sister” album her brother Ken had made for her. This has been a big success since he gave it to her almost two years ago.

As she looked at it, she said, “What do I do?” I told her she could look through it and enjoy the many pictures of her and Ken and their family. She didn’t understand. (This is an experience that happens frequently now. For example, it happens when I give her the toothbrush to brush her teeth. Sometimes it occurs when I open the car door for her.) I tried to explain by commenting on several pictures.

This turned out to be one of those times when she thinks her photo book works like her iPad. She touches a photo and waits for something to happen. Once or twice I have observed her looking at other albums or magazines and doing the same thing. In those instances, she didn’t seem bothered by the fact that nothing happened. That wasn’t true last night. She wanted me to help her, but I found that an impossible task. Nevertheless, she was interested, and I really wanted to help her.

I told her the first thing to know was that touching the picture won’t do anything. I explained that she should just look at a picture and enjoy what she sees. I gave her a chance to try it. She immediately touched a photo and waited for something to happen. I reminded her that nothing would happen. I knew my efforts were likely to fail, but I spent about ten minutes trying to teach her how to enjoy the photos.

Finally, I suggested that we turn on the TV and pull up some Andre Rieu concerts on YouTube. That turned out to be a winner. Music came to the rescue again. I didn’t get to watch the news, but I took my shower and watched with her. We spent almost two and a half hours with Andre. It turned out to be a good evening after all.

As useful as some of the old tools in my box can be, it’s always nice to have new things I can add. Last week, I saw an ad on Facebook that said the company could compile a book of the photos I had posted over the past decade. The idea intrigued me, and I made the purchase immediately. The book arrived on Monday, and I was looking for the right moment to show it to Kate. Yesterday afternoon was a good time. She has rested about two hours, and it was still too early for us to do to dinner. I told her I had something to show her, and we both took a seat on the sofa. It’s a big book with 550 photos, so I was unsure how far we would get. As it turned out, we came close to looking at the whole thing. I was surprised. Recently, she has gotten tired when we have looked at some of her other photo books. Personally, I did find it a lot to go through in one sitting, but I was encouraged by her response and will look forward to looking at it again.

If any of you are thinking of having a book like this, I would suggest you do it more carefully than I did. During the ordering process, the company gave me a chance to edit. I thought it was too much trouble. For my purposes, I still think that was true. If I were doing it again, I would go through the entire book and delete unwanted photos and also change the order in which some of them appear. In my case, the book meets my needs. It gives me one other thing I can use with Kate to make her day and mine more enjoyable.

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More Delusions and Hallucinations

Kate has experienced delusions and hallucinations for several years; however, they are more frequent now. Let me tell you about two of them that occurred yesterday. The first is a variation of one that occurs most often. It involves her noticing small things like specs of food on a plate or table or other little things she sees at home on furniture or the floor. She often speaks of them as “him” or “he” or “thingies” and says other things that convey she believes they are alive. Sometimes I can see them. Often, I can’t. She likes to point them out to me. Whether I see them or not, I generally say I do.

As we walked to the car after lunch yesterday, she expressed concern that she had done something wrong. She didn’t know what it was, but she seemed quite worried. I told her I didn’t know anything that she had done. She asked if I was sure, and I assured her she hadn’t. Once in the car, she started to pick at her teeth, something she does frequently. A minute later, she said, “I got him.” She held out her hand to show me the finger on which “he” was resting. She asked if I could see him. I told it was hard to see while I was driving. Then she wanted to know what to do with him. I keep napkins in the car for moments like this and started to hand her one when she wiped her hand on the side of her seat. She looked sad and said, “I think I killed him.” She was very disturbed. I tried to console her, but she was bothered for a few blocks before her attention was diverted to something else. She frequently picks up “thingies” like this in restaurants. It is common for her to be saddened when she hears about any human suffering, but I had never seen her express any special concerns about the welfare of these “thingies.” This may be extreme example of how active her emotions are right now.

Last night we had another experience with a delusion. She had gone to bed early, 7:30, and went to sleep, something that rarely happens that quickly. She is often awake an hour or two before falling a sleep.

When I got in bed, she was glad to see me. That is not unusual. I think she finds it comforting for me to be in bed with her; however, this time she wanted my help with a project for children. She was concerned because it was her responsibility to carry out the project and didn’t know how. I didn’t find out who the children were or how she had become obligated, but I did learn that it was a project to use animals to help “boys and girls.” I told her I would help and asked what she wanted me to do. She wasn’t sure how to find either the children or the animals. I told her I had some contacts at United Way that would help identify children and could also direct us to existing agencies that might administer the project. I went on to say that I knew people who are involved with animal shelters who might be able to assist with animals. We must have talked fifteen to thirty minutes before I said we had identified a way to approach the problem and could get to work this morning. She was fine with that, and we went to sleep. She didn’t say anything about it this morning, but I am sure there will soon be something else to take its place.