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Very Confused

Kate rested for 1 ½ hours after Anita left. I woke her up for dinner. She woke easily and didn’t show any signs of confusion. That occurred in the car on the way to dinner. We only went a short distance to Chalupas, but she asked my name at least three times, perhaps more. As we pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, I told her my name and said we had been married 55 years. That surprised her. She said, “We’re married? Are you sure?” I told her yes, that we had married in 1963. As I pulled into a parking space, she said, “Are we legal?” I told her we were. She asked, “Who did this? You’re gonna have to explain this to me.” I told her I would once we were inside, and I told her about our first date, the wedding and her preacher who conducted the ceremony.

I could see that she looked very puzzled. Nothing I had said seemed to make any difference except she had some familiarity with the church and the preacher. She asked what we had been doing all this time. I told her about the places we had lived, the birth of our children, and jobs. When I mentioned our time at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, nothing rang a bell until I mentioned the English professor for whom she worked. She always liked him. I should add that during all of this she didn’t express any of the anxiety I have witnessed on several other occasions. She was just puzzled and really couldn’t remember most of what I was telling her. Finally, she was getting far too much information. She asked me to stop. Then she asked, “Does anybody else know about this?” I asked, “This?” She said, “All this that you have been telling me.” I told her our children know. She asked how they would know. I told her she had raised them and learned about the things I had told her. She said, “I didn’t raise them.”

I decided to go in another direction. I said, “There’s only one thing that matters. That’s us. We know we love each other and that we’ve had many great experiences. She agreed.

As I pulled into our garage, she said, “I like all this.” I said, “You mean our house?” She said, “This is our house?” Once we were inside, she said she wanted to go to the bathroom and to brush her teeth. I could see that she was unsure of where to go. I told her I would show her the bathroom and took her there.

We are now sitting in the family room where she is going through the photo book that her brother Ken gave her. I had gotten it out to show her pictures of our wedding. She recognized the photos and the church parlor where the reception was held. That seemed to settle her, and she has been looking through it for about twenty minutes or so.

I don’t ever recall another instance in which she was so confused, but she seems all right now. I’ll see what happens as we get closer to bed time. I am going to play one of our musicals to see if we can end on a high note again.

My personal reaction to the situation has been less sadness than a resolve to help her in any way that I can. She really needs help, and she trusts me. After giving my explanation of our courtship and wedding, she said, “That’s what I like about you. You just say it straight out.” I’m not exactly sure what she means by that, but later she said, “When you tell me things, I can understand them.” I don’t think this is quite true, but I sense her trust in me and want to be a supportive as I am able.

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New “Firsts”

As you have probably noticed, I try to be alert to changes as they occur. Over the past few weeks, I haven’t had to work hard to find them. We’ve had several small, but notable (to me anyway) ones this afternoon. The first occurred as we drove into the garage at home after returning from Panera. I told her that I would be leaving for Rotary and the Y and that Anita would be with her while I was gone. She asked, “Is she the baby sitter?” I said, “Well, I wouldn’t call her that, but she is someone to stay with you while I am gone just in case you need something.”

Up until that moment, I had never referred to Anita or Mary as “sitters.” To me that sounded too much like “baby sitters,” and I didn’t want to offend Kate. Apart from using their names, I just said pretty much what I said above, that Anita (or Mary) is someone to stay with with you.” On a couple of occasions, she has indicated that she liked to have someone with her. I also thought she might be self-conscious about being with them at Panera, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem.

Before leaving for Rotary, Kate said she was tired and asked, “What if I want to rest?” I told her she should feel free to rest. She asked if she should rest on the sofa in the family room or on the bed in our bedroom. I told her should could rest wherever she felt most comfortable. She chose the bedroom. When Anita came in, I explained that she had lost some sleep last night and was resting.

Later, while I was at the Y, I received a call from Anita. She said that Kate had gotten up and seemed confused. Anita thought she might have had a dream because she said something about my mother and was a little teary. This seemed strange as my mother died in 2002. Kate asked about me. Anita thought she might want to speak with me. I asked her to put her on. She asked where I was. I told her I was on the treadmill at the Y. She seemed perfectly fine. I told her I would be home as soon as I finished. We said goodbye, and Anita got back on the phone. She said they were going to Panera.

On the way home, I stopped by Panera and told Anita that I would take her home. When we arrived, she said she wanted to rest. I told her I was going to be in the family room. She decided to rest on the sofa.

I wonder how much of her behavior is related to having lost a lot of sleep last night and how much, if any, is another sign of the changes that are coming our way. I guess I will find that out in the days ahead.

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A Schedule Gone Awry

If you read my previous post, you may remember that Kate rested for about two hours yesterday afternoon. That was after sleeping until 10:30 yesterday morning. Even though she had never had a problem before, I began to worry that she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep last night. We got to bed a little later. Kate was in bed at 10:00. I followed her at 10:35. Sometime after midnight, I heard her turn over and realized she was awake. I’m not sure that she had been asleep at all, but she was very wide awake and talkative. That led to a long conversation during which we both reminisced about our relationship, our children, her parents, our travels. These are all things that we talk about regularly. I don’t think there was a thing that was new including our agreement that we have been a very lucky couple.

Interlaced with the discussion were some of the usual questions about names. Early in the conversation, she mentioned how proud she was of our children. A little later, she asked if we have children. Then she wanted to know all about them. As she often does, she asked me to tell her where we first met.

Knowing that I was likely to be up early, I didn’t play as big a role in the conversation as I might normally do. I felt the need to get to sleep. Finally, at 2:35, I said something about going to sleep. She took the not-so-subtle hint and said she thought she would go to sleep as well. That’s the last thing I remember.

During our conversation, I had decided I would sleep late this morning. Habit got me. I was up at 5:35. I dressed for my walk, ate breakfast, and was out the door a few minutes after 6:30. I walked just over 4 miles and returned home at 8:00. To my surprise, I saw that Kate had gotten up. There are only a few times that she has gotten up that early in the past couple of years, and that was after a good night’s sleep. I was sure that she would sleep until I woke her for lunch. As it turned out, she was ready for Panera before 9:30. That is where we are right now.

The lack of sleep may be having an effect on her. She just asked, “What is your nome?” She knew that wasn’t right and repeated it. She still couldn’t say “name.” I gave her my name. Then she asked her name. Moments later she asked my name again. I just gave her my first name, but she wanted the whole thing. Then she said, “What’s my name again?” She asked where we lived. When I told her, she tried to say “Knoxville.” As she did with “name” earlier, she pronounced it in a funny way. All of this is not dramatically different from what goes on every day, but the look on her face and the way she is speaking makes me think she is more confused than usual.

Today is my Rotary day. That means the sitter comes at noon instead of 1:00. I like for Kate to get her lunch around 11:00 so that we can easily get back home in time to meet Anita. I have frequently had to call her and tell her to meet us here, but that won’t happen today. I suspect Kate is going to be tired. I’ll get her a sandwich in another twenty minutes. Then we’ll go back home. My guess is that she will take a nap.

After Rotary, I will go to the Y. That will keep me awake. I hope we will get our sleeping back to normal tonight.

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Kate’s iPad

For a while now I have noticed that when Kate is looking for her iPad, she doesn’t say “iPad.” She says something like, “Where is my?” and then makes a motion with her hand. I hadn’t thought much about it. I felt she was just momentarily slipping on the word. On several occasions recently, she has asked, “Is there something I could read?” That seemed strange to me because she never reads. On these occasions, I have asked if she would like her iPad. She quickly says she does. This happened yesterday. For the first time, it dawned on me that she is having the same experience remembering the “name” iPad for her tablet in the same way that she is forgetting the names of people. As for me, she still retains an attachment to the iPad, but she doesn’t know what to call it.

This is just one more example how many things are dropping out of her memory. She is beginning to forget the locations of her toothbrushes. They have been kept in three different bathrooms because she uses all three. Sometimes she accumulates more of them in one bathroom than another, but I come behind and try to see that she always has some in each bathroom as well as toothpaste, of course. Yesterday she asked, “Where can I brush my teeth?” I took her to our bathroom.

She is becoming less assured of where to go when we come in the house at night. On several occasions, she has said, “I’ll follow you.” Last night, I stopped in the kitchen to get something to drink. Instead of going to our bedroom, she lingered around until I was going. I am sure that was because she didn’t know where to go. Each of these things goes along with other things like forgetting where and how to get ice.

I think I mentioned yesterday that she is having more trouble with her iPad. She usually asks me to help her when she can’t do whatever she wants, but sometimes I can see her working hard to solve the problem herself. I suspect part of that is not wanting to bother me, but I think it is also not wanting to acknowledge encountering the same problems over and over. Sometimes she just closes the iPad and has a forlorn look on her face. I know then to help her. Once the problem is solved, she goes right back to work.

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A Follow-up to “The Light is Dimming”

I maintain a very active email correspondence with two college friends from TCU, Tom Robinson and Bruce Morton. Tom responded to one of yesterday’s blog posts that dealt with Kate’s recent changes. I am copying his message along with my reply as I believe it sheds a little more light on our present situation.

Email from Tom Robinson

Richard, I just read your blog, and the “Light Is Dimming” is, for me, the saddest one yet. I’m thinking it is for you, too. As you say about yourself, I’ll say, too: I did not realize that Kate would, being this far along, be saddened by her inability to remember. This is the first time I recall your writing about this, so it must be that it is the first time. Of course, maybe she was crying about something else. I don’t know. But I took it as you seemed to – that she was realizing she has a disease and that the loss of memory is not going to stop. It does no good for me to say so, but my heart so truly goes out to you and Kate. I was glad to see the later post where things were somewhat better. What would we do without music!!!

Tom

My Reply

Thank you, Tom. You are reading the situation correctly. The convergence of so many new symptoms as well as the increasing frequency of the old ones tells me Kate is declining more rapidly now. We may still have plateaus, but she is clearly reaching a new low. As I have conveyed and you understood, I had thought because she seemed to have gotten along so well up to this point that she would just drift away without realizing that she has a problem. That has been particularly true since she has been asking me about my name and her own name. She has done so without displaying any sign of being disturbed by it. Regardless of whether she sees her symptoms as a sign of Alzheimer’s or not, I can now see that she is indeed aware of her loss of memory and it disturbs her. 

 As I remind myself, let me remind you that we are on borrowed time. Because it has been 12 years since we saw the first signs of her Alzheimer’s, we could have faced the current situation several years ago. That doesn’t end the pain; it only helps me to put it in perspective. I remain satisfied that we have taken full advantage of the time we have had. I even believe that the way we have approached her diagnosis may have helped us get along for a longer period of time than would have otherwise been the case.

 This is not the end of our good times, but I expect to see more signs of change. It’s not going to stop. That is the nature of this disease. About 30 minutes ago, we arrived home after dinner. She left the kitchen for the back of the house. She came back to the kitchen rather quickly and pointed to the door to the dining room. I asked what she wanted to do. She said, “I don’t know.” I asked, “Do you want to brush your teeth?” It turned out she was asking if that (through the door to the dining room) was where she should go to brush her teeth. I walked her to the bathroom. On a couple of other occasions, she has been disoriented upon arriving at home, but that has been after dark. This time it was still daylight. It is difficult to watch this deterioration of someone you love who had been a fully-functioning adult with two master’s degrees.

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The Light is Dimming

Yesterday seemed like a short day to me. It was Monday and the day for the sitter. Kate got up a little earlier but went back to bed after her shower. It was just after 11:30 when she was ready to go to Panera. Knowing that Anita was to arrive at noon, I called her and asked her to meet us at Panera. I left the two of them for Rotary shortly after Anita arrived.

It was 4:00 when I returned. I had a few groceries to put up. Then Kate and I went to Barnes and Noble. She seemed to be fine. During the time we were there, she asked my names several times. At no time did she seem disturbed by asking. Almost 24 hours earlier, my friend Tom Robinson had asked in an email how long Kate could remember things. I told him that it was often just seconds. Her attempt to remember my name illustrated that. Two times in succession, I told her my name, and she couldn’t remember it.

We went to Chalupas for dinner. When we got out of the car, she said in a very serious, thoughtful way, “I want to thank you.” I asked what she was thanking me for. She said, “For everything you do for me.” I said, “That’s because I love you.” She answered, “I know.” At dinner, she again asked my name several times. As we walked out of the restaurant, she said, “You’re a good guy.”

When we got home, I played the last portion of the DVD I had played the previous night, the one with her father’s home movies. She watched them with interest but without saying a word. That’s unusual. She usually expresses her pleasure audibly when she watches them. When we finished, I told her I was going to take my shower. As I was getting ready, I noticed that she hadn’t moved from her chair and wasn’t working on her iPad. She was just sitting there with a sad look on her face. I walked over to her and knelt beside her chair. There were tears in her eyes. I said, “Tell me what’s wrong.” She said, “Nothing.” My immediate interpretation was, and is now, that she was thinking about how little she could remember. She didn’t ask why she couldn’t remember as she has done before. That made me wonder if she had recalled my telling her about her Alzheimer’s the day before.

After she said, “Nothing,” tears welled up in my eyes. I said, “I understand, and I am here to help you. Whatever happens, I will always be with you.” We hugged and gave each other assurances of our love. The light is dimming. I knew this day would be come, but I never envisioned the pain she might feel this late in her journey.

After a few minutes, I decided she needed something uplifting and put in the DVD of Les Miserables. That worked. She was immediately engaged. After my shower, we watched a while before going to bed.

At 10:30 this morning I have my labs before a routine doctor’s appointment on Thursday. Knowing that I wouldn’t get to eat until after that, I decided not to get up as early as usual. At 6:00, I decided to get up. As I did, Kate made a sound. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She said, “Thank you.” I could tell that she was crying very softly. I decided not to get up. I moved closer to her and put my arm around her and gently stroked her shoulder. Neither of us said anything. In the darkness, I could see tears drop from her eyes. When she went back to sleep thirty minutes later, I got up.

It is now 8:08. A few minutes ago, I thought I heard the flushing of a toilet and went to see if she is up. She is. Since I need to be at the doctor’s office at 10:30, I was going to wake her about 8:45 so that she could go with me. It looks like I won’t have to do that now. I wonder what today will be like.

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A Second Chance Comes Sooner Than Expected

As I noted earlier, Kate seemed to be fine this morning. It was late, but we got to Panera at 11:00. That gave us hour for her to have her muffin and for both of us to relax. On the way to lunch, something happened that all of us can relate to. We worry about things that never happen or surprise us when least expect them.

As we were driving, Kate asked, “Where are we exactly right now?” I’m accustomed to the question and told her we were on the road in the northern part of Knoxville. She said, “Is Knoxville a city?” I told her it is. Then she asked my name. I told her and told her how long we had been married. As always, she was surprised how long that had been. I mentioned our children. She wanted to know their names. After I told her, she asked again. She seemed more confused than she normally does.

We drove a little further, and, for some reason, I brought up the fact that we had visited Ellen last Sunday. She looked very surprised and said, “We did? I don’t remember that.” I said, “Yes, we did.” Then she looked perplexed and said, “I should have remembered that. What’s wrong with me?” Since we had had a similar conversation just last night, it caught me off guard. I made a quick decision to tell her what was wrong.

I said, “You may remember that some time ago, we learned that you have Alzheimer’s. That affects your memory and is why you have trouble remembering things. The good news is that most of the things we enjoy in life don’t depend on memory. We enjoy listening to music, going to Casa Bella for their music nights, as well as our local theaters, and spending time with family and friends. Not only that, but you have me to help you with anything you need to remember. I will always be with you for that.” She still looked a little puzzled, but she did say how good she felt knowing she could depend on me to help with her memory. By that time, we were arriving at the restaurant where we had a good lunch and a delicious dessert.

When we arrived at home, she asked, “What now?” I told her that we could spend a little time at home and that we had several options. I mentioned that we could look at some of our pictures from our 50th anniversary trip with our family to Jackson Hole. I also said I could put on some music, and we could relax in the family room. She saw her iPad and said she would like to work on it. For a while we enjoyed Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6 as she worked on her iPad. Then she said she was tired and wanted to lie down on the sofa. I put on some softer music to play while she rests. I am finishing up this post. After that I am going to bring in the clothes from the dryer to fold and put them up.

At the moment, all is well. I am glad I decided to remind her of her Alzheimer’s. This  time it seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe that is because I had thought it through. She seemed to accept it well. At least, she didn’t indicate any concerns about the long-term implications. Perhaps that will never come up. If it does, I will continue to emphasize the good things that we will continue to enjoy and that I will cover the memory issues.

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Our Most Painful Moment

After coming home from dinner last night, Kate and I spent almost an hour in our family room relaxing. As usual, she worked on her iPad. I took the time to play a variety of music to see how she would react to a broader variety of music than I usually play for her. I (we) were having great success. That was followed by a very nice phone conversation with our son, Kevin. I think we may have talked almost an hour. When the call ended, Kate said, “Aren’t you proud of him?” I said, “Very proud.”

Shortly after Kevin’s call, we decided to get ready for bed. As I got up from my chair, Kate asked, “Where do we keep our clothes?” I said, “Let me show you.” This was the first time she has ever asked that, but it was consistent with other signs of confusion that I’ve observed recently. I took her back to the room where she keeps her clothes and helped her get a night gown. Then I went to take my shower, and she came back to the bedroom where she got into bed with her iPad.

Just before I got to get into bed, she looked up at me and asked, “What is your name?” She started to repeat it and then asked again. After I repeated my name, she said it. Then she asked, “What is my name?” I told her, and she said, “I don’t know why I am so confused.” This was the third time in the past few weeks that she has said this. The first time I told her she had Alzheimer’s. She told me she had forgotten she had it. The next time was during her first anxiety attack when she couldn’t remember who she is or where she was. That time I skirted the issue of Alzheimer’s and focused on calming her. At the time, I didn’t think there was anything to be gained by bringing up her diagnosis. I felt the immediate need was comfort.

Last night, I chose not to say anything about Alzheimer’s and seek to comfort her. This time, however, I was really torn between telling her about her diagnosis and not telling her. I said, “It is very common for us to have memory problems as we age. I think that is what you are experiencing. Whatever, I want you to know that I love you and will help you every step of the way.” She said, “That makes me feel better. I know I’ll get better.” I tried to avoid telling her she would get better and saying that whatever happened I would be with her. She said, “They say you shouldn’t rush it. If we just take it a little at a time.” We talked another 15-30 minutes. I lost track of the time. She repeatedly said she felt better knowing that I would help her. “I know it won’t happen right away. The doctor says we shouldn’t rush.”

Of all the things that might bother me in connection with caring for Kate, there is no question that seeing her suffer is far and away the most painful thing I can experience. I found this excruciating. Here she is 7 years and 8 months since her diagnosis and 12 years since we saw the first signs of her Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t know it is Alzheimer’s, but she truly knows that something is wrong with her, and it’s painful for her. I hate seeing this. Even recently, I had thought we might escape this part of the journey.

This experience and the earlier ones have caused me to reflect on the best way for me to handle them in the future. One thing is clear. I have been successful in addressing her immediate concern. In each case, I have been able to console her and make her feel better. I am still torn between being more honest with her about her Alzheimer’s and not. She is not the kind of person who wants to be deceived. She is the one who wanted to get the diagnosis in the first place. She even said that she was relieved with the doctor gave her the news because it helped her understand what was happening to her. Over the course of her illness, we have periodically talked about death. Both of us accept death as a part of life and don’t fear it or try to avoid conversations about it. In other words, she is not one to avoid the realities of life.

On the other hand, I believe in the importance of hope. I hear her, say things like, “I feel better now. I know you will help me. I’ll get my memory back. It just takes time.” Then I feel she has a hopeful approach that is healthy. I don’t want to risk destroying that sense of hope by telling her she has Alzheimer’s.

I’ve wrestled with this dilemma a good bit this morning. At this moment, I am leaning toward telling her but in a gentle way. In fact, I am thinking about utilizing what I have learned from Cornish’s book, The Dementia Handbook. Her main point is that we should accept the fact that the rational abilities of people with dementia no longer work the way they used to do. Instead, we should emphasize all of the things that they are able to do. Those are all things from which we derive direct pleasure through the experience of our senses. We have done just that throughout our journey, and I hope that we will continue for a good while longer.

Thus, I am thinking of telling Kate that her memory problem is a result of Alzheimer’s but that the good news is that we can continue to enjoy life the same way that we have done in the past – spending time with friends, attending musical events, theater and movies. In addition, I will be her helper when it comes to things that she needs to remember.

The counter argument is that we have been successful by emphasizing Kate’s intuitive abilities. It seems like trying to give a rational explanation runs counter to what she may need most, the knowledge that I will comfort her whatever happens.

I don’t intend to say anything until (unless) she has another episode like last night. Right now, she is up and seems not to have any memory of last night. I would have been very surprised if she had. Waiting to say anything will give me additional time to reflect on my decision. I don’t believe there is any way to determine in advance which is the right way to go. To tell or not to tell. That is the question.

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More Ups and Downs

Yesterday was a day of confusion for Kate. Once again, we had two bright spots that balanced the down moments. One of those came after we returned from her monthly massage. We went into the family room where I picked up the “Big Sister” album her brother, Ken, had made for her and asked if she would like to look at it. I was thinking specifically about the trouble she had been having remembering her family and thought this might jog her memory. It worked beautifully. I sat down beside her, and we went through the entire 140 pages. It brought back great memories. When we finished, she started over at the beginning. She must have spent a full hour and a half looking at the pictures and commenting.

It wasn’t long before it was time to get ready for another musical night at Casa Bella. The musicians, especially the male singer, have been longtime favorites for many years. They are a little younger than Kate and I, but they know the music of our generation. I don’t think there was a single number we didn’t know. It was another great evening.

After we were in bed and ready to go to sleep, Kate said, “What’s your name?” I said, “I’m Richard Creighton, and I am your husband. We’ve been married 55 years.” She said, “Are you sure? I don’t know you.” I assured her I was right, but she still wasn’t sure. She decided to test me. She asked where we got married. I told her. She was surprised when I mentioned the church. It was the one in which she grew up. She still wasn’t absolutely convinced, however, and looked a little suspicious. I told her I loved her. She almost always says she loves me. She didn’t this time. I asked if she loved me. She said, “I don’t know.” I reached my hand to touch her, and she moved it away. She was tired and wanted to go to sleep. She said, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” In a few minutes, I moved next to her and put my arm around her. She didn’t push me away. Neither one of us said another word.

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A Re-run of Last Night and More

On the way to lunch, Kate asked me my name. Nothing unusual about that. Then she asked her name. I said, “Kate Creighton.” She said, “Creighton? Where did that come from?” I told her she got that name when we married. She was surprised and said, “We’re married?” I told her we were and told her her full name in which I included her maiden name. She didn’t recognize it. I started telling her that was her family’s name as we arrived at the restaurant. When we got inside, I started explaining. Then she mentioned the name of one of her aunt’s. There was clearly a spark of recognition. At least one other time while we were eating, she asked my name again.

I mentioned something about our being married, and she said, “Do we have children?” I gave her their names and told her about them and their families including our grandchildren. It was like the first time she had ever heard about any of them.

When we got home, she asked, “Are you a cousin?” I said, “No.” She said, “A friend.” I said, “Yes, I like to think I am your best friend.” She said, “My husband?”