Posted on

An Unusual Day, Quite a Contrast with the Day Before

 

Caregivers for people with dementia recognize the need for flexibility. They know that things can and do change rather rapidly. Such was the case with Kate yesterday. I am glad that everything went so well the day before. Yesterday was certainly different.

We had a good start when she awoke around 7:45. I took her to the bathroom, and she took her shower without a problem. As I started to dress her, I was feeling optimistic. She wasn’t fully dressed when she wanted to lie down. That is not unusual, and we had plenty of time, so I told her she could. I gave her about ten minutes. Then I tried to finish dressing her. She wanted a little more time. I wasn’t concerned. I knew I could let her sleep another two hours.

At 10:45, I felt it was time to get her up. That would allow us to leave for lunch between 11:30 and 11:45 and get back for the sitter at 1:00. I encountered a problem when she didn’t want to get up. I told her I would be leaving for the Y and would like to take her to lunch before Mary arrived. She didn’t want to get up and told me to go ahead without her. I told her I didn’t want to leave her alone and that I really liked eating with her. Then I asked if she would do it for me. She still didn’t want to get up.

That was something new. She had always been willing to cooperate with me and get up even when she didn’t want to. I knew something was wrong and asked if she was feeling all right. She first said, “I don’t know.” Then she said, “I just feel blah.” I felt she was in a depressed state and said, “You seem depressed.” She said she was. Then I said, “If you are, I think I might be able to help you, but I would need you to get up. I think I can make you feel better if we go to lunch together.” She wasn’t buying that.

I tried several things to see if I could help her out of this state. I showed her a few photos from her “Big Sister” album. She smiled at the cover photo, but didn’t’ show much interest. Then I read about her grandfather in another book. I couldn’t find anything to help her.

It was then that I reminded her that Mary would be coming and that she could help her dress although I thought she might prefer me to help her. She agreed, but she still wouldn’t get up. I decided not to push her. I told her she could rest and that Mary would help her dress. She said she was fine with that.

When Mary arrived, I explained what had happened and took her back to the bedroom. I told Kate that Mary was here and that I was leaving. She greeted Mary with a smile. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and I left.

I checked via the video cam while I was gone and also called Mary once. Kate remained in bed the entire time. I had a feeling that it was easier to tell me she was fine with Mary’s helping her dress than to actually let her. When I got home, she was still in bed but awake. She smiled at me. I could tell by the expression on her face that her depression was over.

Mary left, and I asked Kate if she would like me to take her out for dinner. She indicated she wanted to go to the bathroom. I took her and helped her to the bathroom and finished dressing her. She acted as though there had never been a problem. I never brought it up. I feel sure she began to recover and wanted to go to the bathroom but felt uneasy asking Mary to take her. The rest of the evening was quite normal. We both acted like nothing had happened.

Kate has had a minor problem with depression since the early days of our marriage, but it has never kept her from doing anything. I never recall a time when she felt “blah” and wanted to remain in bed. Like all of her other behaviors, I can’t explain what brought this on. My suspicion is that it involves her keen awareness of how little she is able to do. She has been especially insecure the past few days, not only in her behavior but also in her verbal expressions. Fright has typically been the most negative of her responses to what she is experiencing. It doesn’t seem strange that depression might be a natural response as well.

For me, there is a big difference between fright and depression. I have always been able to reduce her fright, but I couldn’t break through her depression. Like fright, depression may not occur regularly. I plan to have a talk with her doctor and the doctor’s social worker. I want to be better prepared next time.

Posted on

Is It Really Possible to Have a Good Day During the Late Stage of Alzheimer’s?

I am frequently concerned that I paint too rosy a picture of what living with Alzheimer’s is like for us. We, especially Kate, experience challenges, frustration, and stress. I don’t know how we could live with Alzheimer’s any other way; however, I believe it is important to communicate the good things that we can still enjoy. Yes, we can even have a “Good Day” at this stage of the disease. I always feel the need to reiterate that doesn’t necessarily mean that Kate’s memory is better or that she isn’t confused. I mean that we have enjoyed, not just a moment, but the day.

Yesterday was one of those. Several things may have accounted for that. She awoke in a good mood. In addition, we were not rushed at all. Her insecurity is also increasing. She seemed more dependent than usual. Finally, we talked a lot about our relationship and our love for each other.

She was also up early again, and we went to Panera and returned home for her to rest an hour before leaving for lunch. It was a very leisurely morning. We went to the Sunset Café for lunch. It’s a cut above most of the other restaurants we visit and they always save a corner table in the bar for us. It’s a quiet place and seems a little more private because the bar is quite small, only three other tables, and not very active at lunch. The setting makes it easy to engage in conversation. Kate and I took advantage of that. We have been eating there for several years and have gotten to know the hostesses, several servers, and shift managers, all of whom stop by our table to say hello. It provides the kind of social occasion Kate can easily handle.

When we returned home, she wanted to rest and did so for almost three hours before we got ready for dinner at Casa Bella. They were having a repeat of the Broadway program we heard last week, so I thought it might be nice to eat  in the front section of the restaurant away from the music. This is where we had eaten most often before they started their music nights. We have shared happy and sad moments there over the years. Last night was one of the happy ones.

We talked almost entirely about our relationship, our families, and how much we have to be grateful for. We also dealt with how we would feel if we lost the other through death. We do this periodically. Both of us feel we would like to die first so as not to live without the other. I feel good when we are able to talk about these things because I often think about her death and know that the odds of my living without her are significantly higher than the other way around. Of course, she doesn’t know that which magnifies her fear of my dying first and leaving her alone. She is very insecure now. She recognizes how difficult it is for her to do anything on her own.

Some might take this kind of conversation to be sad. It is, but there is another side to it. When we talk like this, we also feel very close. Each of us recognizes the depth of our love for the other in a way that doesn’t occur in the course of our daily routine. Of course, we approach this topic from different perspectives. I have a better idea of what is ahead for her. On the other hand, she is keenly aware that something is wrong with her as well as her dependency on me. I believe that when we have discussions like this we are uniting in a way that strengthens each of us. Her trust in me serves to reinforce my desire to care for her, and she is comforted by my assurances that I will be with her all the way.

It could have been an ordinary day. We didn’t do anything extraordinary. But it was a day in which we focused heavily on what we mean to each other. That made it special. It was a “Good Day.”

Posted on

Beginning Our 10th Year Post-Diagnosis

 

Tuesday, the first day of our 10th year Living with Alzheimer’s” started early and with some confusion; however, the day was punctuated with “Happy Moments” as well. About 5:30, I heard Kate chuckle. I chuckled back, and she responded with more chuckles. Then she started pointing to the ceiling moving her arm from one side of the room to the other. As she did this, she commented on “things” (that were not really there) that she liked. It wasn’t clear to me whether she was asleep or awake. When I said something to her, she responded. After a few minutes, I decided she was awake. She then immediately closed her eyes and went to sleep. This was strikingly sudden. It makes me think she really had been dreaming all along.

At 5:50, I told her I was going to get up. She told me not to leave her. She didn’t seem afraid, but she did say, “I don’t know how to say it, but I feel (paused while thinking of the right word) safe with you.” I stayed with her another thirty minutes before telling her I was going to get up and asked if she would be all right. She said she was fine. After I was dressed, she was still awake. I mentioned I was going to the kitchen and to call me if she needed anything. She said that would be all right, but she wanted me to come back and sit in a chair beside the bed.

As I was preparing to put my breakfast dishes in the washer, I heard her call. She wanted to go home. I told her I would take her. I got her to the bathroom and dressed quite easily. During that time, she said she wanted to “get out of here.” She also mentioned girls that were either here or would be coming. This also came up in the afternoon.

We went to Panera arriving about 8:15. That is very early for us. She worked a little on iPad puzzles but stopped to eat her muffin. She was tired and wanted to go home before 9:00. She rested for a couple of hours before we went to lunch. She was very talkative. Most of her conversation dealt with our marriage and also her feelings about our being a good match. At one point, she said, “You know we are so different.” She wanted to continue, but she didn’t know how to express her thoughts. I said, “But we’re so much alike on the things that matter.” She said, “Exactly.” It was a cold day, and we took a few minutes to get our coats on before leaving. Kate also had gloves. She asked if I could take a picture and wanted to make sure I got the gloves in the photo. It’s unusual for her to request a photo of herself. She also asked me to take one at another restaurant a few weeks ago. She wanted a picture of the two of us, and I took a selfie before we got in the car.

When we got home, she rested for an hour. I asked if she would like me to read something to her. She did, and I picked up the photo book of her mother’s family and read several things about her grandfather. She loved hearing about him and was most impressed. I’ve read this to her before, but this was the strongest reaction she has had yet.

Then I read a section that dealt with Battle Creek where her mother lived until marrying Kate’s father and moving to Texas. It focused on the work of the Kelloggs in the development of cereal at the Battle Creek Sanitarium (“The San”) where her grandfather was a doctor. She kept talking about “him.” I didn’t know whether she was talking about her grandfather, John Harvey Kellogg (CEO of The San), or W. K. Kellogg (who left the San and established the cereal company). She thought I had known “him.” I told her that her grandfather had died before I was born and that I was a child when the Kellogg brothers died. That didn’t penetrate at all. She kept saying, “And you knew him.” She seemed impressed. I am sure she felt I knew him because I was reading about all three of these men. To her, it probably sounded like I was telling her a story from my first-hand experience.

She finally tired and wanted to rest again. It was only a short time before she started talking and continued for an hour. I made some facilitating comments, but she didn’t appear to need them. She talked about something that is a variation of a topic she has talked about a number of times before. It always involves her, or our, helping people. A large portion of the previous conversations have involved educating women in impoverished parts of the world. This time she talked about a program in which we were already involved. It was designed to provide a broad range of education and job training for immigrants to the United States. She mentioned a selection process to determine those who would benefit most. The training itself was rather comprehensive and dealt with information about US culture, training for job interviews, and assistance in locating job opportunities that would match the skills and interests of the students. I was amazed at the details she brought up and the reasons each of these things was necessary.

The next surprise of the day came as we were about to leave for dinner. Without any prior signs or indications, Kate became very worried about not having delivered something to a man whose name she didn’t know. From what she said, she thought she was to deliver refreshments for a reception of some kind. She couldn’t tell me any specifics, but she became distraught over her failure to do what she had promised. As we drove to the restaurant, she wondered if I might be able to call him and work out a way to get it to him. After parking the car, I pretended to call him and that he had told me that the reception was actually the next day and that she had no reason to worry or apologize. This effort was unsuccessful.

As we walked up to the restaurant, the hostess opened the door and greeted us. Kate tried to act as though nothing was wrong, but it didn’t work. It did begin a process of diversion that got her mind off of what she believed was a failure to deliver on a promise. This process involved our conversation with our server, chatting briefly with a couple we know who sat at the table next to ours, and eating. Long before we finished our meal, she seemed to have forgotten the entire thing.

I had one more surprise at 12:30 yesterday morning when I heard her call me by name. I looked up from the bed to see her standing in the doorway to our bedroom. I quickly got up and went to her. She was very upset. She had gotten up to go to the bathroom, something that is exceedingly rare. To the best of my knowledge, she has never gotten out of bed without my noticing. I got her back to bed and then went to turn off the lights in the hallway. That’s when I discovered she had been walking around the house. Lights were on in two other bedrooms, family room, living room, dining room, and kitchen. She apparently came out of the bathroom and couldn’t remember how to get back to our bedroom and spent an unknown amount of time going through the house trying to find me. The good news is that she was able to calm down once she had located me. Another crisis was over. Our tenth year “Living with Alzheimer’s” is off to quite a start.

Posted on

Nine Years Ago Today

Most people remember specific dates that represent something significant that happened in their lives. I have a number of those, our wedding date, Kate’s birthday along with those of our children, grandchildren, parents, and siblings. We celebrate dates like these, but there are also dates when something happened that we don’t think of celebrating. January 21, 2011, is that kind of date for me. Nine years ago today, Kate’s doctor delivered the news that she has Alzheimer’s.

At the time, the news was devastating, but we made a commitment to make the most of the quality time remaining to us. I had no idea how long that would last. Here we are nine years later and still able to enjoy life and each other. I am very grateful for that. I can honestly say that these years have been among the best of our marriage.

Today, however, I feel other emotions as well. They are more like the way ones I felt when she received the diagnosis. I am just as intent on making the most of our time together, but at this last stage of her disease, I am more than bit apprehensive. I know that we won’t continue to live the way we have the past nine years. We are at the beginning of the stage people imagine when they think of Alzheimer’s. Our quality time is going to be more limited. This doesn’t mean our experience of “Happy Moments” will cease. It is just that they will be different. Even in the past few weeks, I see the challenges increasing. I mentioned a couple of them in my previous post. Another one occurred yesterday.

Kate was just as tired as the previous morning, perhaps even more so. Off and on for an hour and a half, I worked to gently wake her before my efforts met with success. I began with some soft music and gradually changed to more lively music. The first two two or three times I went to check on her, she was sleeping so soundly that she didn’t hear me at all. That has never happened before. My reward was that she smiled when she finally responded the last time I tried.

She was slow to get up and wanted to rest a little longer after she was partially dressed. While she rested, we talked. She repeatedly asked my name and where she was. This was a time when she didn’t remember me as her husband, but she spoke very comfortably with me. She didn’t express any great surprise when I told her we were married, but that didn’t stop her from asking my name.

She was in a good humor and kidded me a good bit. While lying in bed, she wanted us to sing something. I sang Edelweiss, but she didn’t sing along because she couldn’t remember the words. She wanted me to sing it again. I did and then played it on our audio system. That way I could give her the words just before each phrase. She enjoys singing.  It was an unusual and pleasant way to start our day.

It was our day for the sitter. When she arrived, Kate wondered who was at the door. I told her it was “Cindy, your friend who takes you to lunch on Monday.” She didn’t remember her but was very nonchalant in her response. She greeted Cindy warmly and never hesitated about my leaving with her. I didn’t have Rotary yesterday and almost canceled the sitter, but I thought I could use the time. I have also wanted to strengthen the bond between the two of them. I have had the distinct impression that Kate favors the sitter who comes on Wednesday and Friday and has been with since our second week with sitters. I believe that continuity helps and hope we don’t ever lose her.

The rest of our day went well. Kate was especially taken with some YouTube music videos I played for her last night. That took the place of her iPad on which she had started to work puzzles but lost interest. It was nice to see her enjoying herself. She was still awake when I got in bed. We chatted briefly and expressed our love for each other.

I make a point of mentioning the challenges of getting her up, her confusion and failure to remember my name and our relationship along with the good time we had once she was up. This is a good snapshot of what “Living with Alzheimer’s” is like for us. As long as she is happy, we will continue to live well. I hope I am wrong about the changes I believe will occur in the coming year. Despite my expectations, I am very grateful for the good times we have had in the past and feel sure we will have more in the future. We have, indeed, been fortunate.

Posted on

Caregiving is a Learning Process

I like to think I’m a pretty good caregiver. Like everyone else, however, I make my share of mistakes. Yesterday I encountered two situations that called for “doing the right thing.” I acquitted myself when faced with the first one. I failed miserably with the second one and then made a recovery by doing what I should have done in the first place.

Kate’s brother and his wife left early yesterday afternoon. They wanted to have a short visit with Kate before leaving for the airport. I encountered a problem when I tried to wake her. This was one of several mornings when she didn’t want to get up. Unlike those in the past, however, she seemed unusually tired and just couldn’t make the effort. I thought that when I told her that Ken and Virginia were coming over to say goodbye, she would give in. She wouldn’t. In fact, she started to cry. I decided not to push her. She had gotten to bed later three nights in a row. I believe it just caught up with her.

I visited with Ken and Virginia while she continued to sleep. I checked on her once to see if she was awake. I asked her if she thought she would be able to get up to tell them goodbye. She said she wasn’t. I asked if they could come to the bedroom to see her. I thought she would say no and decided to get dressed. I was wrong. She said that would be fine. I went back to the family room.

As it neared the time they needed to leave for the airport, I went back. She was awake. I went through the same routine. This time she agreed to get up. With her cooperation, I was able to get her dressed in record time, and everyone got to say their goodbyes. Patience had prevailed.

The second situation did not go so well. I washed our sheets during the afternoon and had put on the bottom sheet when she wanted to get ready for bed. She had her night gown on when I told her it was time for her meds. She thought I meant for her to take off the gown. As she started to take it off, I said, “No, you don’t need to take off your gown.” It was too late, and she was irritated with me for not being clear about what I wanted her to do. Then she got into bed. I told her she needed to sit up to take her pills. She wanted me to give them to her while she was lying in bed. I told her that she might spill the water or choke when she swallowed. I decided to let her try it. She immediately spilled water on herself and sat up. Then she took the pills.

After that, she got back in bed with her head at the foot of the bed. I told her to turn around so that I could finish making up the bed. That irritated her, and she and said, “You can do it like this.” I explained that I needed to put on the top sheet, blanket, and spread, and I would cover her head. She was insistent about not moving. That is what led me to do the wrong thing. I decided to take what I thought was a lighthearted approach and pulled the top sheet over her. When I brought the sheet over her head, she was furious. That is when I did what I should have done. I told her I was going to the family room to watch the 49ers/Packers’ game and to call me when I could make up the bed.

Fifteen minutes later I went back to the bedroom. When I walked in the room, I said, “I think I’ll get ready to take my shower, but first, I’d like to make up the bed.” She said, “Could I help you?” I readily accepted her offer. When the bed was made, I thanked her and gave her a big hug. The crisis was over. She was fine after that.

I am reminded of something I heard many years ago. A local child psychologist told me that “No” is the most powerful word a child can utter. He suggested that parents try to avoid getting into situations that lead to a child’s using it. That is because most of the exits lead to other problems. I believe the same is true with people with dementia. Kate was resistant to my asking her to get up and let me make up the bed. My effort to get her off the bed caused her to dig in her heals. She wasn’t moving. She doesn’t like to be pushed. I know that, but I have never seen her respond this way before and don’t want to see it again.

Posted on

Ken and Virginia’s Visit

Today is the last day we have with Kate’s brother and his wife. The visit has gone well. We have focused on being together. Except a short drive through the continuing care retirement community that we will be moving to next year, we haven’t done anything special apart from eating out. I was interested in learning more about Ken and Virginia’s move to a similar community this past November. They seem to have adapted well. In their case, it involved a change of cities. They are now closer to family. We have had time for conversation.

I was especially pleased when Kate and Ken had an hour or so to look through a book he had recently given her. It contains a large collection of photos of their hometown of Fort Worth. Virginia and I adjourned to the living room, so we couldn’t hear their conversation. The fact that they spent so much time was a good sign that Kate enjoyed it. This was right after returning home from lunch yesterday. That is a time she normally rests. They finally stopped because she was tired. Ken mentioned that she also began cry as he read and told her about several of the photos. One involved the deaths of a basketball team many years ago.

It helps that Virginia and Ken are sensitive to Kate’s need to rest and have gone back to their hotel an hour or two each day. They understand that she has to work hard to keep up with a group. We have followed our daily routine though she has gotten to bed later at night. I think it is good for her to have a little extra stimulation. I feel very strongly that she and Ken should make the most of this visit. The next one is likely to be very different.

The only concern I have had is maintaining Kate’s involvement in our conversation. Virginia and I are the talkers in the group, and we have dominated. There is a certain inevitability to this. The nature of the conversation has to be rather limited for Kate. I also recognize that she is approaching a time when it won’t be possible for her to join in a conversation no matter what the rest of us do; however, I don’t want her to feel excluded from the group.

Posted on

What makes for a good day?

It is far from unusual for me to say that Kate and I have had a good day, but what are the elements that make it so? Number one on the list is Kate’s happiness. My contact with other caregivers suggests that I am not unique. Whether caring for someone or just living with someone who is perfectly healthy, one’s happiness is vitally linked to the feelings of the person you love. Fortunately, Kate is typically happy.

There are a number of other things lead me to say we’ve had a good day, and they all play a role in Kate’s happiness. They include my not having to wake her, getting up early enough to make a trip to Panera and return home for a rest before going to lunch, having a rest after lunch, and having time for other pleasures like looking at photo books, reading, social interaction with friends/family, and events like our music nights at Casa Bella.

That is exactly what happened yesterday. Kate woke up on her own before 8:30. She was in a cheerful mood, and we were at Panera about shortly before 9:30. She was tired from getting up early and ready to go home at 10:00. She rested for an hour. Then I told her I would like to take her to lunch. She thought that sounded like a good idea. We went to one of our favorite lunch places and came back for another rest for about an hour and a half.

When her rest was over, I suggested we look at her “Big Sister Album.” While we were going through it, Ken and Virginia arrived. The flew in from Texas for a long weekend visit. It was our first time to see them in a while. We enjoyed visiting with them and then went to Casa Bella for Broadway Night. It was an excellent program featuring music from the 1940s. We were familiar with every song. To top it off the singers and accompanist were quite good. We don’t normally pack in this much in a single day, but it was all done at a leisurely pace. It was a good day.

Posted on

Delusions, Hallucinations, Dreams, and Paranoia

It is common for people with dementia to experience delusions, hallucinations, dreams, and paranoia. From time to time I have mentioned some of Kate’s experiences with them. They appear to becoming a regular part of our lives.

One of the most common is believing there are other people in the house. I usually discover this when she puts her finger to her lips and very softly says, “Shhhh.” Other times she makes references to “them.” I have never figured out who they are, but sometimes, like yesterday, she explains that they will hear us and “spread the word.” She went on to say how they like to gossip. I told her I didn’t think there was anything bad that anyone might say about her. She thought I was naïve. We were in the car on the way to dinner, and it wasn’t until we got to the restaurant that she was diverted to other things.

When we arrived home, she stopped to look at something on top of the dryer. She put her finger on several places. Then she told me she couldn’t catch them. I didn’t go back to look, but I didn’t see anything as we walked through the laundry room.

Something else is becoming more common. It is the little “thingies” in her hair, around her eyes, and between her toes. Running her fingers between her toes has become as much a focus of attention as pulling her hair. After she was in bed last night, she called my attention to something new. She thought “they” were on various parts of her body. She was trying to rub them off. I asked if they were painful. She said they weren’t. She rubbed her finger across her chest. Then she held her finger up and said, “See.” I told her they were quite small. Fortunately, her concern didn’t last long. I think that coincided with my starting a YouTube video of a Julie Andrews concert. She focused her attention on that. I’ve read about other caregivers using diversion techniques to solve problems like this. I am now grasping the value of that with Kate. Since memory doesn’t last long, redirecting attention often works.

Talking in her dreams is also more frequent. Prior to Alzheimer’s, I don’t recall her having these experiences. They don’t occur with any regularity. They are periodic and there have been a couple of themes. In the early years after her diagnosis, they focused on her classroom and/or library experience. She explained or gave instructions to her students. That disappeared long ago. I take that as a consequence of her loss of those memories.

More recently, her dreams have dealt with young girls or women who live in impoverished circumstances. They include her work with a program to provide education for them or to establish such a program. One of those occurred two nights ago when I got into bed. I thought she was asleep, but she started talking to me about our working together to create a program that would help people in need. I could never figure out exactly what she wanted to do but told her I would help in any way that I could. This conversation lasted fifteen minutes or so. I am pretty sure that she was awake. That makes me think about the difference between hallucinations and dreams. I suppose I would use the term hallucination if it is an experience she has when awake. The same experience while she is awake would be a dream. Whatever the definition, Kate has more of these experiences than she has before.

Most of these experiences do not bother me. The ones that do are those that disturb Kate. The most common type involves other people who might be out to do some harm to her. So far, these experiences have only involved her belief that people are saying or would say bad things about her. As we were about to leave the house last night for dinner, she was frightened by something and held herself close to me. She didn’t want to talk about. Then later while she was brushing her teeth, she insisted I remain right beside her while she brushed her teeth. It wasn’t said in anger, but fear. I wonder what lies ahead.

Posted on

Cheerful Days

In many ways the past two days were like a lot of other days we have. The difference was that Kate was cheerful all day long. Both days she awoke early and was in a good mood.

As she got out of bed on Tuesday, she called me by name. I took her to the bathroom. Afterward, she wanted to go back to bed. I told her I would be in the kitchen if she needed me. I added that I would stay if she preferred. She told me it would be all right if I left; however, she looked as though she wanted me to stay. I told I would be glad to bring my things to the bedroom and sit in the chair beside her. That made her happy.

Instead of leaving when she fell asleep, I stayed until it was time to get her up. That worked well because she woke up periodically and saw that I was there. Several times we chatted briefly. When it was time to get her up, I asked if she was ready. She said yes. I didn’t rush her at all. I told her I would get some clothes for her. It was another fifteen minutes before I told her I had her clothes. She got up very easily. I the the gradual process helped.

It wasn’t long before the sitter arrived. I hadn’t mentioned that I was leaving and thought she might be uneasy as I left. That turned out not to be a problem. She greeted Cindy with a hug and wasn’t phased when I told her I would be going to Rotary. The rest of the day went smoothly as well.

Yesterday was Kate’s birthday, and I was hoping she might have another good day. My wish was granted. She never showed any excitement or interest in its being her birthday; however, she did appreciate the emails, cards, and calls she received. She was especially touched by two cards. One of those was from our daughter. Kate was in tears as I read it to her. The other was from our twin grandsons. She was taken by the cards design. It had a pop-up when she opened it. She was fascinated by it and looked at it for a long time.

The celebration continued at dinner last night. After I had given the server our order, Kate noticed shrimp on the menu. The server, whom I had told about her birthday, asked Kate if she liked shrimp. When Kate said she did, the server said, “I’ll treat you to a shrimp cocktail.” Kate has always loved that. Although her eyesight complicated eating it, last night was no exception. Several times she dipped the tail of the shrimp in the sauce and took a bite.

The day ended with phone calls from our children and Kate’s brother and his wife who will be here for a visit tomorrow. That should be good for her as well.

Our experience does not mean there was any improvement in Kate’s memory or her confusion. For example, yesterday afternoon while she was getting her hair done, I went to the ATM at the bank across the parking lot. The stylist told me later that while I was gone, Kate said, “Where is my, uh, boyfriend?”

As we prepared to leave home for dinner, Kate said, “Let’s get out of here. I wanna go home.” There isn’t a way to stop the fundamental symptoms of Alzheimer’s, but, thankfully, we are still able to enjoy ourselves. I am grateful for that.

Posted on

Visiting Friends

I have talked a lot about the role that music and eating out have played in our lives, but I haven’t said as much about our connection with friends. I am thinking especially of friends who live out of town. With one exception, our friend Ellen who is in memory care in Nashville, Kate and I don’t see them frequently, but they, too, have provided with a support network that continues to be important to us. Saturday, we visited Ann and Jeff Davis, a couple we first met in graduate school at the University of Wisconsin. Later, John and I were colleagues at the University of Tennessee. They moved away more than twenty years ago and now live in Nashville.

Kate has changed a lot since we last saw them, and I was glad when Ann sent an email asking if we might plan a visit. Kate’s memory of them has diminished, but I thought she would probably respond well to them once we were together. For the most part, I was right about that.

After taking our seats, we quickly broke into two different conversations, one between Ann and Kate, the other between Jess and me. It sounded like Kate was doing well though I recall her dodging a question she couldn’t answer by tossing it to me.

We were there a couple of hours. The conversation soon drifted to one among the four of us. That can be, and was, hard for Kate. She wanted to be involved, but that is difficult. Her poor memory means her vocabulary is substantially reduced and she doesn’t remember the past and is not familiar with current events. That’s makes it tough. She didn’t, however, say anything that made me think she was uncomfortable. That’s good.

As I look to the future, I am hopeful that we will continue with these trips. Right now we have another one scheduled to see Jan and Scott Greeley in Nashville two weeks from now. That’s another special connection for Kate. Her parents were close friends of Scott’s parents. Kate and Scott were crib mates in the early days of their lives. She no longer retains a memory of their times together, but she almost always beams when I mention a visit with them. At this time in our lives, relationships like these are especially meaningful.  We have shared a lot of experiences together, and I plan to keep them up unless it becomes uncomfortable for Kate.