For the most part, “Living with Alzheimer’s”
has meant a long gradual decline for Kate and a similar pattern for our
adaptation to change. The way I describe it is that our “world” becomes smaller
as she declines. Until the pandemic, however, we continued to live somewhat
normally. The pandemic caused us to live a more sheltered life. I know that was
true for everyone, but it brought us some special challenges.
Prior to that, we led active lives. We went to
Panera almost every morning. We ate out for both lunch and dinner, and we went
to the café at Barnes & Noble in the afternoon. During that time we had
contact with lots of people, and Kate worked jigsaw puzzles on her iPad 6-8
hours a day.
Unlike earlier changes, the pandemic brought
about more abrupt and consequential ones for us. Suddenly, we were homebound.
No Panera. No meals out. No Barnes & Noble. To make matters worse, Kate had
already begun to lose her ability to work puzzles on her iPad. One week into
the pandemic, she completely lost that ability. It was her last self-initiated
That put a good bit of pressure on me to take
up the slack. I used all of the tools in my caregiver’s toolbox to do that;
nevertheless, we had inactive moments during the day. Kate became tired of
specific activities and wanted to rest more than in the past.
At least six months before the pandemic, she
began to decline in other ways. She had more difficulty getting out of a chair
and out of bed in the morning. She was becoming uneasy going down steps and
unsteady while walking. Her doctor and I had talked about a walker and decided
that her Alzheimer’s would make that difficult. A wheelchair would be the next
step. I am sure all this was exacerbated by our more sedentary lives during the
Two weeks before Thanksgiving, we both got the
virus. That brought about another abrupt change. She was in bed so long that
she lost her mobility altogether. I’ll never know exactly, but I believe the
virus pushed that ahead 6-8 months.
Our world shrank considerably. It hasn’t all been downhill since she had COVID. We moved into our new home in April 2021. Gradually, we started getting Kate out of bed each day. Then, we began to take her on short walks in her wheelchair around the various buildings in our community. I had been bringing in carry-out meals from the dining room, but as Kate began to feel more comfortable, we started eating in the dining room. After that, we added an afternoon trip down the hall for ice cream. Being able to get Kate out twice a day has improved our quality of life significantly.
Having said that, we continue to have ups and
downs in our daily lives. As I noted earlier, our world is much smaller now.
That became especially true with Kate’s stroke 3 ½ months ago. Her aphasia
began at least two years ago and worsened with the stroke. She’s recovered a
little, but not much. She talks significantly less than she did before, and
what she says is mostly unintelligible. The good news is that in recent weeks,
she is talking more. I am hopeful that she will improve, but I also recognize
that Alzheimer’s itself will eventually take that ability away from her.
At this stage, she sleeps or rests more than
she did in the past. She is in bed at least eighteen hours a day and sometimes
a little more. That has been the pattern since she came home from the hospital
after COVID. She actually sleeps more now because she often falls asleep between
6:30 and 7:00 right after the caregiver leaves. That is new since her stroke.
Prior to that, we spent the evening watching music videos on YouTube. That was
the best part of our day. I treasured those moments.
One of my new concerns is that she frequently
chokes. Sometimes that occurs when she is eating, but it happens more often
when she is not. She seems to accumulate phlegm in her throat and coughs it up
periodically, something that is common at this stage of Alzheimer’s.
Kate’s mornings have always been the most difficult time of the day. It still is. She often wakes up with a puzzled look on her face. I get in bed beside her and turn on music that I know she enjoys. Even then, I can’t count on her feeling comfortable. Generally, she doesn’t speak a word until late morning or after I have gone to lunch. When I get back, she frequently smiles and speaks a few words, but remains quiet most of the time.
Despite these changes, there is much for which
we are thankful. One of those is the fact she is still with me. It’s been
almost 11 ½ years since her diagnosis, and 15-17 years since her earliest
symptoms. Not only that, we still have our “Happy Moments.” They may be less
frequent, but they are very special. Sometimes she wakes up in a cheerful mood
and gives me her beautiful smile. In those cases, she also speaks or tries to
speak. We even sing songs together.
When I return from lunch, I often get a smile.
She’s always in her recliner, and I get down on my knees so that I can look
into her eyes and tell her how glad I am to see her.
We enjoy our afternoon ice cream and dinner. Most of the time she doesn’t say anything, but sometimes she does. She often smiles, however, and residents often comment about that. They love it, and I do too.
On top of these things, we sometimes have very good days. One of those was this past Saturday. She was awake early and cheerful all day long. We spent all morning together before the caregiver arrived. Then I went to lunch. We spent the rest of the day enjoying ice cream, dinner, and music until we went to sleep. I never thought we would have days like that this late in her Alzheimer’s, and I am hopeful that we will have more of them in the days ahead. I am grateful.