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Alzheimer’s Doesn’t Know It’s a Holiday, But We Do.

Kate and I talk a lot about the many things for which we are grateful. We’ll do more of that today. Let me say first that I am grateful to those of you who take time to read my often rambling accounts of our lives. I hope it provides an accurate glimpse of what “Living with Alzheimer’s” is like for us and that you may be gaining a little insight into the world of Alzheimer’s. The overriding message for us is how well we have gotten along. That easily claims first place among the things for which I feel most fortunate. I only wish that could be true for everyone who lives with this disease, but I am very mindful that others face far greater challenges than we have.

I am grateful for the kindness of family, friends and acquaintances who provide support, often without realizing it. I have also been touched by those who serve us in restaurants and customers in places we visit. Just this week I took Kate to the restroom at lunch. I’m always a little concerned in these situations because she has on several occasions locked a door to the stall or the restroom itself and been unable to open it. Sometimes she doesn’t know where to go once she is in the restroom or how to find the exit door. That day I opened the door and peaked in to see if anyone else might be in there. A lady was washing her hands. I pointed Kate in the direction of the stall and told her I would be right outside the door. It wasn’t long before the door opened and the lady who had been washing her hands invited me in. She told me she was a nurse and would stay with Kate. That wasn’t the first time people have helped in that situation. Little gestures like that have made the road smoother for us, at least emotionally.

It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining, and the today’s temperature will be in the low 60s. I look forward to this day with Kate. It will be the first we celebrate alone. Now don’t feel sorry for us. We will certainly miss being with family, but it will be easier on both of us that we are not traveling or hosting this year. I have an increasing recognition that our time together is limited, and I treasure the good times that we have when it is just the two of us.

Now let me segue to another aspect of our lives. Although we have many “Happy Moments,” they vacillate with more trying ones. Thus far, we have been able to handle each one of those. That includes one we had early this morning.

At 3:00, Kate said, “How do I get inside?” I said, “You’re inside right now. You’re in your own bed.” She wasn’t buying that. She asked again. I said told her I would show her but that it was the middle of the night and thought it would be better to do that in the morning. That wasn’t of any help. Then I told her I would show her. The first stop was the bathroom. Then we walked hand-in-hand through the bedroom, down the hallway outside our room, into the family room and kitchen, stopping in the laundry room. During our walk I tried to comfort her. She kept asking if we were going inside. I assured her that I was taking her inside. I turned her around and we walked back to our bedroom where I helped her into bed.

As I pulled the covers over her, she said, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?” I told her I would never leave her and that I would be right there on the other side of her. When I turned around to walk to the other side of the bed, she must have thought I was leaving. She said, “Don’t leave me.” She seemed very frightened. That didn’t stop immediately. I got into bed, moved close to her, and put my arms around her. She gradually felt at ease. By that time it was about 4:10. She was quiet until 4:30 when she asked again not to leave her. I assured her I wouldn’t, and I didn’t hear anything more from her. I think I went to sleep pretty shortly after that. I know I slept until 6:50 which is unusually late for me, but I know I needed it.

My best wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving to each of you.

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The Velveteen Rabbit

One of the major themes running through “Living with Alzheimer’s” is change and adaptation. That has been continuous since Kate’s diagnosis. Of course, it really started before that, but I can’t pinpoint a specific date. I can for the diagnosis, so I always use it. At first, our lives changed very little. The primary difference was a focus on the bad news and how we were going to handle it.

Over time, we dropped many things that we had done in the past. Most recently, that has involved Kate’s difficulty working jigsaw puzzles on her iPad. For several years that has taken up 6-8 hours a day. That is now less than an average of an hour a day. This past week there were three days when she didn’t use it at all.

That has put me in the position of creating more activity for her. The sitters and I have been doing that with the aid of her family photo books. That is going well, but I felt the need for something else.  She tries reading magazines, but she doesn’t see well enough. Since she enjoys my reading the text that accompanies the photo books, I began to think about reading other things to her. Several things increased my motivation. One of my Twitter friends reads to her mother and said her mother enjoys it. I also have a colleague at the office who read to her mother in the latter stages of her life. It meant a lot to both of them.

In addition, our Rotary club has recently adopted a new project that involves placing children’s books in public places frequented by children. It made me think of buying several children’s books and trying them out with Kate. Two weeks ago, I took Kate with me to Barnes & Noble to browse the children’s collection. It was right after lunch, a time when she almost always wants to rest. I didn’t have much time to do any serious looking.

Last week, I had a conversation about reading to Kate with my colleague. She mentioned The Velveteen Rabbit and The Giving Tree as good possibilities. I went back to Barnes & Noble on Wednesday and looked for them along with other possibilities. They have a pretty large collection, but I didn’t see either book. The next day I checked Amazon and got them along with two other books.

Prior to their arrival on Friday, I looked on some of our book shelves to see what I might find. I saw a book by Erma Bombeck, Family: The Ties that Bind . . .and Gag! I read the two short introductory chapters to her Friday morning. In her humorous way, she first relates what her own birth family was like when she was growing up. Then she describes her present (present being some time ago) family as they take their annual Christmas photo. It’s a funny contrast of the generations. I wasn’t sure how Kate would react, but she enjoyed it, and I plan to read more at another time.

Sunday morning she was up a little earlier than usual. I didn’t want to go to Panera for a muffin and the quickly go to lunch, and Andriana’s wasn’t going to be open for almost an hour. I didn’t want her to feel my reading children’s books to her was, well, too “childish.” I explained about our Rotary project and that she might help me decide if the books I had bought would be suitable for me to give to our project. She, of course, was happy to do that. My first experiment was reading The Giving Tree. It didn’t take long for me to discover that she liked it. She audibly expressed her feelings as I read. I was encouraged by her reaction.

We still had plenty of time before we needed to leave for lunch. I picked up The Velveteen Rabbit and read it. This was a blockbuster. She was touched the whole way and in tears before I got to the end. I admit that I was touched as well, especially by her response, and shed a tear or two myself.

When I finished reading, I put the book down in my lap. We were seated side-by-side on the sofa. She picked it up and started to look through it from the beginning. She looked at the title page and the page of illustrations. I hadn’t paid much attention to the illustrations as I read, so we looked at them. Then I suggested we go to lunch. She held the book up to her chest with both arms around it and asked if she could take the book with us. I told her she could. She said, “Should I take it into the restaurant?” I said it would probably be better to leave it in the car. Then she decided it was best to leave it home. I mentioned that we could read it again if she would like. She said she did.

It was a beautiful experience for both of us. I was hoping she might enjoy my reading to her since she has enjoyed my reading from her photo books, but I wasn’t at all sure she would understand the stories well enough to appreciate them. I feel sure that she missed a lot, but it was clear that her intuitive skills were working. She was clearly moved. Her reaction encourages me to try more. Wouldn’t it be nice if her love for reading that seemed to have been lost could be rekindled in this way? How appropriate for someone who was a lifelong reader until Alzheimer’s entered our lives.

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Friday Lunch Conversation

In my previous post I commented on how talkative Kate was this past week. We had another good conversation on Friday. It was an ordinary lunch at Applebee’s, but it was a time when we both felt the impact of the words we exchanged. We talked about how much each means to the other. We briefly touched on the subject of re-marrying if one of us died. At this point, that is something neither of us can imagine. Each of us expressed our feelings about the other and the difference that made in our lives.

Kate asked me about a number of things. She was soon overwhelmed with information and asked me to stop. She said, “You know I won’t be able to remember. I will have to ask you again.” I told her I would always be there to answer any of her questions. I also reminded her of a nickname she had given me in the early years after her diagnosis – “MM” for “My Memory.” It was no surprise that she hadn’t remembered. I would have been surprised if she had.

It was a moment when each of us spoke very candidly. She was clear about not remembering. I was equally clear in my commitment to be with her whatever the future holds. That commitment is an important source of strength for me. I believe it keeps me from dwelling on the sad aspects of living with Alzheimer’s. There is no doubt that caregiving is stressful, but it has its rewards. I think of it as a privilege to care for Kate during this last chapter of her life. Overall, I still believe things are going “remarkably well.”

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Ups and Downs This Week, Mostly Ups

It’s been a busy week. My daily schedule has been interrupted more frequently than in the past. That means I’ve been less regular with my posts. Several times I have started one and not been able to finish because of something else I needed to do. Kate has required more attention than usual, but that doesn’t explain everything. The other things have involved household chores.

Tuesday was one of those days about which I didn’t say anything. I was especially interested in writing about the events of the day as a follow up to Monday when she had a rough beginning. Fortunately, I jotted down a few notes so that I can cover the highlights.

The day started like the day before. Her brain seemed to be “blank.” She was very dependent on me; however, she didn’t appear to be disturbed the way she was on Monday.

I don’t know that my own behavior played a role in the way she responded. I do know that I tried to be more careful in waking her than I had done the previous day. I played a full 20 minutes of relaxing music before going to the bedroom to wake her. When I entered the bedroom, she was awake. I said hello and sat down on the bed beside her. This wasn’t planned or intentional, but I think it may have played a role in conveying a relaxed morning, not a moment when I was eager to get her up.

She didn’t know her name or mine nor our relationship. When I said I was her husband, she couldn’t accept it. As I have done on other occasions, I suggested she think of me as a friend. She liked that. I mentioned a shower, but she didn’t want it. I didn’t push.

I told her I loved her. Though a bit unclear, she responded with what she meant to be “A Bushel and a Peck.” I pulled it up on the audio system, and we sang it together several times. Then I suggested she get up so I could take her to lunch. She got up easily. I had started to wake her with plenty of time for her to take a shower. When she didn’t shower, we were left us with additional time to get ready.

As a result, we got to lunch earlier than usual. She was very talkative and initiated a conversation as though we had never met before. She asked me what I did for a living. I explained that I had started out as a college professor. She wanted to know what I taught. When I told her sociology and social psychology, she asked me to explain. I did, and she said that sounded interesting. I went on to say I ended up with my own market research company. She didn’t know what market research is. I explained that, and she also thought that was interesting.

When I finished, I said, “Why don’t you tell me about yourself.” I knew this might put her on the spot but thought my question wasn’t especially threatening. She handled it well and said, “There really isn’t much to tell.” I told her I knew a lot about her. Then I recounted her academic background and teaching career. I pointed out that she had been a good student and had earned two masters degrees. Then I told her about her volunteer career as our church librarian. She was quite interested and added her own comments.

It had been almost a year and a half since she had had a cortisone shot for the arthritis in her knee. Over the past couple of months, she has complained about it periodically, so we went directly from the restaurant to the orthopedic clinic. She was very childlike throughout the visit but handled herself well. We waited in the lobby for about fifteen minutes. Assuming we might have to wait a while, I took along her “Big Sister Album.” I thought that would occupy her for a longer period of time than her iPad. She enjoyed looking at it and made a lot of comments. There were only a couple of others in the room. I am sure they wondered a bit as they heard me identify all the people including Kate herself as she responded much like a child listening to a parent read a book.

We didn’t wait any longer after going back to one of the examining rooms. We met with two different people. Kate didn’t understand a lot of what was said and asked for clarification. I helped interpret what they said. She never understood, but she was satisfied. As we left, she thanked everyone including those in the waiting room.

The most important thing I should say about the day was that it was one of the nicest days we have had in a long time. I think that relates directly to her mood. She was very happy and quite at ease. Her memory wasn’t any better nor was she any less confused about things like whether we were in Texas or Tennessee, but she enjoyed herself. I couldn’t understand everything she said in our conversations, but she was surprisingly sharp in terms of her understanding about the importance of values and the role of parents in teaching them to their children. She has lost so much of her rational ability that I really enjoy hearing her express her opinions, beliefs, feelings, and values that remain intact. It keeps me in touch with the Kate I have always known.

Recently, especially this week, our lives have vacillated between highs and lows. The highs have been very special, and we experienced them every day. They far outweigh the lows. I know greater challenges are on the way. I am counting on the Happy Moments to sustain us.

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Another Morning Surprise

It was just a few days ago that I reported on the unpredictability of our mornings. That continued this today. Kate was awake, or woke up, when I got up at 5:50. I thought she might want to go to the bathroom, but she declined. I had been in the bathroom only a few minutes when she opened the door. I walked over to assist her to the toilet but found that it wasn’t the bathroom she wanted. She said, “Is she all right?” I did what I should know not to do. I said, “Who?” She gave me a dirty look. Often she says, “You know who.”, but just as often she gives me a look that communicates the same message. Fortunately, she asked “Is she all right?” several more times. That gave me a chance to say the right thing. Each time I said, “She is fine.” That seemed to provide her with momentary relief, but she continued to be concerned. During the next few minutes, she made other comments like “Are you sure she is all right?”  “I love her so much.” And “Could I see her?” I feel sure she must have been thinking about her mother but never found out.

When we got back to bed, I asked if she would like me to stay with her. Of course, the answer was yes. Unlike the other recent times when she has wanted me to stay, I hadn’t already dressed. I put on an album of very soothing music and got back in bed with her. I stayed there until just before 7:00. She was still awake but relaxed.

I knew she was likely to go to sleep and expect I wouldn’t hear from her until I woke her at 10:45. I was wrong again. I saw her on the video cam at 8:10. She was sitting up. When I reached her, she was wide awake and ready to get dressed. This was another day when she wanted me to take her “home.” That has become more frequent in the past few weeks. I told her I would. Strangely, she wasn’t persistent this time. She mentioned going home a couple of other times but seemed to have forgotten before we left for Panera. We got here about 9:15. She is just now finishing her muffin. I suspect it won’t be long before she will be ready to leave. How long depends on how well she is doing with her puzzles.

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Mornings Are Unpredictable.

Predicting what Kate will be like when she wakes in the morning is challenging. Some mornings she is cheerful. Other days she seems disturbed. Recently we had experienced several especially good days in a row. That came to an end yesterday.

I went into the bedroom about 10:15 when I noticed that it looked like she might be getting up. She was awake, but I quickly recognized that it was one of those times when she didn’t know anything. Her mind seemed to be a complete blank. I spoke to her very calmly and explained that I could help her. I began to tell her a little about her mother and father and mentioned that we had some photo books I could show her. She didn’t want to get out of bed, so I brought in her “Big Sister Album.” I showed her a few pictures, but the light was too dim for her to see well as she was still lying in bed.

We went through our usual routine of her asking and my telling her my name and hers, but nothing sounded familiar. Very early I told her I was her husband. She didn’t take to that, and I said, “Just let me be your friend.” That worked.

She told me she didn’t know what to do. I suggested that she get up and go to the bathroom and then get dressed. She surprised me by taking my suggestion. She was a bit insecure as we headed to the bathroom and held my hand all the way. Once there, she depended on me to tell her what to do.

When we finished in the bathroom, we went back to the bedroom where I proceeded to help her dress. She had everything on but her shoes when she wanted to lie down. About twenty minutes later, I told her I would like to show her something that I thought she would like. She got up without a problem. She put her shoes on, and we walked to the hallway outside our bedroom where I showed her pictures of her mother and grandmother. She wasn’t as interested as usual but did enjoy seeing her mother’s photo. Things were getting better. Several times she asked, “Who are you?” I gave her my name without indicating our relationship. That seemed to suffice.

Once in the family room, I picked up the “Big Sister Album” and showed her the cover photo of her and her brother. She sat down in a chair to look at it. She took interest in the photos of the little girl but didn’t know who she was. I pointed at one in which she had taken special interest and said, “That’s you.” She said, “What’s my name?” I told her. She was elated and said, “Now I have a name?” It was a special moment of joy for both of us.

A few minutes later, the sitter arrived. I met her in the garage and explained what had been going on. She asked if she should still take her to lunch. I told her I thought that would actually be helpful for her. Then we walked into the family room. I said, “Look who’s here. Your friend Cindy, and she is going to take you to lunch.” Kate received her enthusiastically and said a loud “Yippee!” I was relieved and left for Rotary. Kate didn’t express any reservations about my leaving. She was happy, and so was I.

 

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An Example of Kate’s Self-Awareness

Over the past few days, Kate has snapped at me several times. As in the past, she quickly apologized with tears in her eyes and said, “I shouldn’t have said that.” I’ve been struck by her awareness that she has spoken to me in a way she hasn’t done before Alzheimer’s entered the picture. Two nights ago, I was even more surprised.

We had just finished a very pleasant dinner at Bonefish Grill. I started the car, and she said, “May I tell you something?” Her tone of voice made me think she was going to say something nice about my caring for her as she often does. I was surprised when she said, “I know I’ve been hard to deal with lately, and I want you to know I’m sorry.” I was both touched and stunned. Here she is trying to adapt to the changes taking place in her brain, and she feels bad about the way she has treated me. Apart from that, I was amazed that she said this “out of the blue.” I think it had been more than twenty-four hours since she had last snapped at me. That tells me this is something that really disturbed her. That matches her other concerns related to not knowing “anything.” To me it is a remarkable example of her kind heart and self-awareness. It also increases my desire to see that she gets the best care I can give her.

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A Day of Ups and Downs

As I said in my previous post, Kate was resting peacefully yesterday morning though not asleep. When I felt it was time to get her up for lunch, I encountered what appeared to be a combination of anxiety and depression. She didn’t want to get up. I quickly sensed that this wasn’t something I had faced before. She seemed more frightened. It was also one of those times when she wasn’t sure who I was and wasn’t as trusting as usual.

I decided not to worry about getting her up immediately but to see if I could comfort her as I have done in the past. I brought in the photo of her mother from the hallway. She looked at it but didn’t say anything nor did she express any interest in seeing it. I put it back and brought in the “Big Sister” album with the photo of her and her brother on the cover. She was mildly interested. She did recognize herself, but it didn’t do a thing to change her mood or readiness to get up.

I said, “You look frightened. Are you?” She nodded her agreement. I said, “I would like to help you if I can.” She said, “I know you want to help, but there isn’t anything you can do.” I asked if she could tell me about it. She couldn’t. I continued to talk with her very gently focusing on making her comfortable with me. That paid off.

After what was probably fifteen minutes, I asked if I could take her to lunch. She said, “I don’t know.” Then I suggested that she might feel better if she got dressed and we went to lunch. She didn’t buy into that immediately, but I assured her that she would feel better if she got up. She finally agreed.

When she got to the family room, she started to recover. She took an even longer time looking at the plants on the patio and the trees behind our house. She also perked up when she saw her ceramic cat just before entering the kitchen. All of this stimulation took her mind off of her fright. It looked like she was fine. Then as we stepped out of the house into the garage, she became frightened again. She didn’t know why.

We got into the car, and I put on some music that I hoped would help to calm her. That worked. By the time we reached the restaurant, she was all right. We encountered only one issue during lunch. She asked my name. I told her, and then she became very sad about not remembering it. Then she asked her name. When I told her, she tried several times to repeat it, but was only able to do it with great difficulty. The rest of our lunch went well, and we got back to the house without any problems.

As she often does, she asked what she could do. I gave her the usual options. She decided to look at a photo book. I decided to let her look through it by herself. I read the introductory information. Before I finished, she was tired and wanted to rest.

She rested about two hours before I asked if she would like to look at some of our old 35 mm slides that I had converted to digital a few years ago. She usually declines. This time she surprised me. I got my laptop and sat down beside her. I started with photos from the Fall of 1968 when our daughter was born. She enjoyed seeing them. It had been years since we had looked at them. We spent almost an hour doing that before going to dinner. It was a highlight of the day.

As we drove home from dinner, she became concerned about “the other people” who would be “there.” I explained that we were going to our house and that no one else would be there. I told her it would be a time for us to relax without any obligations. That seemed to relieve her. At least she didn’t say anything more about it.

At home, she surprised me again by working on her jigsaw puzzles for over an hour without much help. After that she was tired and wanted to quit. We adjourned to the bedroom, and she was in bed around 8:00. It is almost 10:00 this morning, and she hasn’t gotten up. I’ll let her sleep until 10:45 if she doesn’t wake sooner. I am hoping for a better day.

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Data on the iPad

Kate’s use of the iPad continues to be a smaller part of her life as she declines. It wasn’t long ago that I mentioned the amount of power left in the battery at the end of the day used to be from 25-50%. Yesterday for the first time, I took a look at her screen time over the past seven days. It was very instructive. Her total time on the iPad was 3 hours and 19 minutes (an average of 28 minutes per day), and almost half of that was on Tuesday, one week ago. She didn’t use it on Saturday or Sunday. As of this morning, her screen time was 2 hours and 10 minutes for the past seven days (an average of 18 minutes per day).

I don’t have the data to prove it, but I know that at one time her screen time must have averaged as much as 6 hours or more per day. That was her major activity. She was on it most of the time she was awake and not eating or involved with some other activity I had planned.

This causes me to reflect on the progression of change that has occurred over the past eight years and ten months since Kate’s diagnosis. At the start, she was actively working on her computer. It was challenging for her, but she was able to check her email and work on a photo book that she is still planning to create. She never got beyond editing photos and did that for many hours every day. She also enjoyed working in the yard. She pretty much filled her day between those two activities. As it became increasing difficult to use her computer, she started working much more in the yard. She could easily spend six to eight hours there. It was her “happy place.”

When I saw that she wasn’t using her computer as much, I introduced her to the iPad. I thought that would be an easy way for her to keep up with her email and Facebook. She never got into that. It was only when I showed her the jigsaw puzzle apps that the iPad became an important source of entertainment.

She continued to spend a lot of time in the yard until about two years ago. She “pulled leaves” until there were almost none left. (That killed almost eighteen shrubs. I gave them a year to come back and had them taken out a year ago.) That is when she was left with the iPad as her only self-initiated activity, and now that is going away.

The consequence is that I am playing a more direct role in keeping her occupied. Her photo books have become more important. At the same time, she is resting more. That helps to balance my load. On the whole, there are other things that also require more attention. I am washing a lot more now. Each of the past three mornings I have had to change the sheets on our bed. That doesn’t demand much of my time. It’s just one more thing.

Having said that, I don’t want people to be overly concerned. I don’t feel overworked or stressed out. Before that happens, I will bring in additional help. We still enjoy being together, perhaps even more now. I know our lives are likely to change significantly – and sooner than I want. Kate can’t think about the future. As a result, she has no idea how little time is left for us. She does recognize her dependence on me and counts on me for everything. I won’t let her down.

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The Past Two Days

Monday morning Kate got up early. I was glad because she was up in plenty of time to be ready for the sitter. She was more confused than ever. I’m glad to say that she wasn’t seriously disturbed about it. I wouldn’t call it an anxiety attack, but she was certainly puzzled. It was similar to what I can remember of movies with someone who is experiencing amnesia. This is hard to put in words, but she seemed in a deeper state of confusion and required a little longer to come out of it.

It began when she got out of bed and went to the bathroom. We went through what is becoming a regular routine. She asked about the picture of our daughter. When I told her she, she couldn’t accept that. I started to explain that she and I are married and have two children. That was too much for her. I gave up explaining things. I decided to let her senses go to work.

I took her by the hand to the hallway with the photos of her parents and grandparents. I showed her the picture of her mother taken around the time of her marriage. I told her who she was. She was taken with it as she usually is. We talked about her mother a few minutes. Then we went to the family room where turned on the soundtrack for My Fair Lady. I know she likes that and thought it might jar her memory.

I picked up her “Big Sister” album that her brother made for her. I showed her the cover photo. She didn’t recognize the two children. I said, “This little girl is Kate Creighton.” She said, “That’s me?” I said, “Yes, and this is your brother Ken.” I started to say more when she noticed the photo book of her father’s family. The cover has an ink drawing of the house in which her father grew up. I told her about the house and then opened to the first page of photos of her grandparents. Rather than reading the text, I just told her about her grandparents.

As we were getting started, she heard he song “With a Little Bit of Luck” playing in the background. She started moving her hand to the beat of the music and sang along with the lyrics of the title each time they came up. She asked me to stop talking about the photos for a minute so that she could listen to the music.

Between the photo book and the music, Kate started feeling more at ease. Before long, the doorbell rang. It was our sitter. I told Kate it was Cindy who was taking her to lunch. She looked puzzled. Then Cindy walked in, and Kate responded enthusiastically. That put me at ease. I was getting especially concerned about leaving her in such a confused state. I quickly gathered my things and left for Rotary. When I got home later, Kate was resting. Cindy told me that everything had gone well.

Yesterday was another day of ups and downs. Some of it was humorous. As I opened the car door for her after lunch, she said, “Take off your glasses.” I did. She said, “No, that doesn’t help.” I hope I can get through this without developing a complex about not being handsome.

The day started well. She was up early again. She did have one unpleasant experience. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, “I’m ugly.” I said, “I think you are beautiful.” This has occurred several times before, but her reaction this time was the strongest I have seen. The problem is her weight gain. She is forty to fifty pounds heavier than she was when she was diagnosed. Most of the time she doesn’t seem to notice the change. Twice in the past two days she has commented about drinking with only one straw instead of her usual two. She believes that will result in her drinking less.

We went to Panera but stayed only long enough for her eat her muffin. She worked on a puzzle while eating and got frustrated when she couldn’t go any further. She had completed all but one piece. She couldn’t see it because it was on top of the other pieces. Anyway, we went home where she got on the sofa for what I thought would be a short rest. Instead, she picked up her iPad and worked puzzles for the next thirty minutes before we left for lunch.

On the way home from lunch, we stopped by Target to buy candy for Halloween. That turned out to be a bad idea. I didn’t take into consideration that the candy is at the back of the store. That meant a long walk for Kate. She was ready to leave shortly after entering the store. We came back come where she rested in her recliner for almost two hours.

She went to sleep but woke up a short time before we went to dinner. I asked if she would like me to go through one of her photo books with her. She did. I pulled a chair beside her recliner, and we began. It wasn’t long before we slipped into a conversation about our lives together. We talked about our courtship and getting married. We also talked about our feelings for each other. It was a very tender moment. I recorded about fifteen minutes of it.

Before leaving for dinner she went to the bathroom. When she came out, I told her we were going to dinner and then to a musical performance at our local art museum. I helped her put on a different top that I thought would be more appropriate. Then I told her she looked beautiful. I followed that by saying, “Do you know that you are the most important part of my life.” She was unusually emotional and broke into tears.

All the way to dinner, she was concerned about being with other people last night. She said things like “I hope I don’t embarrass you.” or “I want you to keep me from doing something stupid.” I found it hard to believe that she would have remembered my telling we were going out after dinner, but maybe she did.

At dinner, she did something unusual. She wanted me to sit beside her in the booth rather than across from her as I usually do. I was glad to do that but concerned about her insecurity. We had a nice meal. By the time we were finished, she seemed fine. We went to the concert, and she got along fine. It was a “concert and conversation” with Peter Buffet, Warren’s son. Apart from being a musician, he and his sister work run the foundation established by his father. He spends most of his time doing philanthropic work, hence the reason he was here for United Way. I was amazed that Kate followed at least some of the things. I could tell by her reactions to what he said. She wouldn’t have gotten the details, but she understood isolated remarks. Afterwards, she said, “You’re gonna have to explain this to me.”

As we left the concert for our car, she asked where we were. I told her we were at the museum. She wanted to know the city. I told her it was Knoxville. In the car, she said, “Are we in New York?” I told her we were in Knoxville. She repeated variations of this question all the way home.

At home, she spoke quietly as though others were here. I told her we were the only ones here. She said, “Are you sure?” She was still confused about where she was, but she was happy when she went to bed.