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Things Turned Out All Right Yesterday

After a rocky start yesterday, Kate awoke around 10:45 and was perfectly normal. I didn’t test her to see if she knew our names or our relationship, but she acted as though she did. Before I reminded her that I would be going to Rotary and that the sitter was coming to take her lunch, she was prepared for us to go out together. I thought my telling her I was leaving might change how well things were going. Fortunately, that wasn’t a problem. I suggested that she work on her iPad a few minutes until Cindy arrived. She arrived about ten minutes later. When Kate saw her, she said, “It’s good to see you.”

After Cindy left, Kate was ready to go. It was too early for dinner. We went to Panera for an hour and then to dinner. She was quite tired when we got home. She actually rested a while before going to bed. I think she had not had her afternoon nap. She was in bed by 8:00 although she was awake when I got to bed at 9:30.

Around 4:00 this morning, I felt her move in the bed. She seemed uneasy. I wasn’t sure she was awake, but I asked if she was all right. She said, “I don’t know.” She seemed like she may have been dreaming and that something had disturbed her. She moved closer to me and held my arm tightly. I thought she was frightened and asked if she was afraid. Again, she said, “I don’t know.” This reminded me of the way she was when she got up the first time yesterday morning. She didn’t say anything more. I said, “I am right here with you. You’re going to be all right. I’ll see to that.” She still didn’t say anything. I held her for the next forty-five minutes before she said, “Do we have a wedding?” I told her we didn’t. Then she asked if we have a daughter. I told her we do and that she was already married and had two children. She said, “So we don’t have a wedding?” I told her we didn’t and didn’t have anything she needed to be worried about. I was asleep shortly after 5:00. I’m not sure she was really awake at all during that hour.

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Not a Good Way to Start the Day

“It’s a New Day,” but I’m not “feeling good” this morning. About 7:15, the video cam alerted me that Kate was about to get up. I went to the bedroom to find her confused. I told her good morning and asked if I could help her. She said, “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on.” As in most of the other occurrences like this, she wasn’t having a panic or anxiety attack. She just looked puzzled about not knowing “what’s going on.” She was never able to say more than that. Based on past experience, I am sure it was waking up and not knowing where she is, why she is here, and who she is. She didn’t ask, but I gave her my name and hers and told her that she was in our house in Knoxville. I added that she was in her very own bed. She didn’t challenge any of that, but it didn’t seem to reduce her confusion.

She asked me what she should do. I told her that she usually liked to get up to go to the bathroom about this time. She asked where the bathroom was and asked if I would show her. I did and then took her back to bed. She was still puzzled. I told her I thought she just woke up and was groggy. I pointed out the window to our back yard. I reminded her of how often she looks out the window and comments on “all the green.” She seemed to recognize the yard. After getting in bed, she asked where I was going to be. I asked if she would like me to sit in my chair beside the bed. She said she would, and that is where I am right now. It sounds like she has gone back to sleep. There is a good chance that she will be fine when she wakes up again. I’ll just have to wait and see.

Moments like this always bring back memories of my mother. She used to say, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” That was when I first recognized how wrong people can be when they say things like “Well, at least she doesn’t know.” It was clear to me that my mother knew something was wrong with her. I can say the same thing about Kate. She understands and is disturbed by what is happening. I am grateful that this is not a constant pattern. Most of the time she simply asks where she is, who I am, and who she is without a hint of fear or anxiety. I think I handle the responsibilities of being her caregiver reasonably well. The part that is the biggest problem for me is seeing her when she is disturbed. I hope we are not in for much more of this.

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More Insecurity and Memory Issues

Yesterday was a good day. I say that largely because Kate was in a cheerful mood. She was that way when she got up. As I have noted before, that doesn’t mean there was any improvement in her memory or confusion. When she appears to be so normal, I am still surprised when she says or does something that would be more characteristic of someone with dementia.

As she cheerfully got out of bed, she said matter of factly, “I don’t know my name.” We started to leave for lunch, and she asked my name and hers. She asked again as we walked from the car to the restaurant for lunch. She seemed perfectly alert and normal. There was no sign of frustration or anxiety. She just didn’t know our names and was matter of fact about acknowledging it.

At dinner, she said, “I want you to tell me what I would say that I want if you weren’t with me?” I told her there are two dishes that she likes and that she should ask for one of them. One is Tortelloni alla Stephania. The other is Tortelloni alla Panna. She tried to pronounce both names and did pretty well, but she wanted to get it right. She asked to see them on the menu. Then we practiced her saying both names several times. As we were doing this, our server walked to the table to take our order. She asked the server to help her say them. The server started to tell her the ingredients in each one. Kate was able to convey that she wanted to know how to pronounce the names. She practiced saying them several times. The server was new and didn’t know about Kate’s Alzheimer’s. I am sure she thought this was a bit strange. Ultimately, Kate was able to give the order herself.

My point is that Kate was unusually interested in knowing what she should do if I were not there to help her. I told her not to worry that I would always be with her, but she was obviously aware of how little she knows. It must have bothered her to think how she would order a meal if she were alone even though I could see no indication that she was disturbed. On the surface, her asking how to order her meal appeared to arise from an “intellectual” rather than an “emotional” basis. On a few occasions, she has also asked me how to get home after eating out. I have tried to tell her, but it is too complicated for her to understand or to remember.

The experience with the sitter yesterday also went well. The only sign that might suggest insecurity came as I left. She said, “You’re going to leave us?” I told her I would be back a little later. She was fine with that.

Last night she picked up a photo book of her father’s family. She spent at least an hour with it. She tried to go through it by herself. I gave her the chance to do that; however, she repeatedly had questions. I ended up standing by her chair as I watched the evening news. That way I could answer her questions as they came up and read sections of the text that she didn’t understand. She enjoyed looking at the pictures of her family. I look at her initiation of things like this as her way of trying to give herself a better sense of who she is. I am glad she has such a great collection of family photos. Working puzzles is entertaining, but the photos give her a better sense of herself and her place in her family.

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Understanding What’s Going on in Kate’s Head

You might think that by now I would have a pretty good grasp of what Kate is thinking and feeling. I spend almost all of my time with her. I try to be a careful observer. I’ve read a good bit about others experiences and their insights, but what strikes me most is how little I really understand. I often relate my impressions and my guesses as to why she does what she does. I hope, however, that I never suggest that I have a firm understanding of everything. I don’t. Yesterday morning I had an experience that illustrates how wrong I can be.

Kate got up for the day about 8:15. She was happy and seemed very clear-headed. I didn’t see any sign of grogginess. She called me by name at least twice after getting up. I never asked, but I was confident that it was one of those times when she knew my name and hers and that I am her husband. Except for helping her dress, it seemed like a morning we could have had pre-Alzheimer’s.

On the way to Panera, we talked a little about our marriage. As we drove up to the restaurant, she said, “And what is my name?” I told her and she repeated it. She quickly forgot and asked me again. Then she said, “If someone should ask, how should I introduce him?” I said, “Who?” She said, “Him sitting across from me.” I said, “This is Richard Creighton.” It turns out that’s what she wanted, my name, but she was asking in what she thought was an indirect way. All the while she behaved as though her memory was perfectly normal. She fools me like this on a regular basis. No wonder she can be with other people without their sensing how far along she is or that she has Alzheimer’s at all. How many people with dementia do you suppose we confront during the course of our daily lives without suspecting a thing?

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A Rough Start Getting to Our Routine

Yesterday I woke Kate at 12:15 so that we could have lunch before picking up a church friend to attend an operetta concert in the afternoon. It was one of those mornings when she is quite confused and didn’t come around very quickly. She didn’t know anything. Who I am. Who she is. Where she was. She felt very insecure, but it was similar to the last time in that it was not a full anxiety or panic attack. Fortunately, she responded positively to me. She wanted me to hold her hand going to the bathroom and didn’t want me to leave her. Just before leaving the bathroom, I did or said something she didn’t like, and she snapped at me. Then she apologized and started to cry.

After she was dressed, she wanted to hold my hand as we walked to the kitchen to get her meds. She continued to whimper a little. She kept asking me if I were her daddy. I told her I was her husband. Each time she couldn’t believe it. When we got to the kitchen, she called me daddy and then said, “Are you my daddy?” I said, “Would you like me to be your daddy?” She responded enthusiastically that she did. I said, “I would be happy to be your daddy.” She asked if I really were. I told her the truth. She accepted that but not with enthusiasm. I believe we are going through a transition in which she often thinks of me as her father. As that happens, I will be much less likely to tell her the truth. Right now, I sense that she still wants the truth and is able to handle it. This is one more thing that demands taking it one step at a time and making an informed judgment as to what is best.

While she was taking her meds, I brought her the “Big Sister” album. She reacted the way she usually does. She commented on the smiles and the children’s eyes. Then she asked if she could take it with us. I told her she could. We took it to the restaurant where she continued to enjoy the photos until the food arrived. By that time, she was herself again. Leaving the restaurant, she said she wanted to rest as soon as we got home. This now seems an established habit. I explained that we were going to a concert. She didn’t complain.

When we arrived at the concert hall, I let Kate and our friend out and then parked the car. When I met them in the lobby, I learned that Kate felt sick. She couldn’t explain what it was. She just didn’t feel right. She seemed relieved that I was there and didn’t want me to leave. She was willing to go ahead and take a seat in the concert hall, but I decided that we should leave. It just wasn’t worth the chance. Our friend said she would leave as well. I told her I would be happy to come back for her. She didn’t want that. Just then, a mutual acquaintance walked up and spoke to us. She asked if he and his wife could take her home after the concert. He was happy to do so, and we went home. As we walked to the car, she wanted a bathroom. I asked if she could wait until we got home. She said she could. Once we were home and she had been to the bathroom, she felt better. That was when she finally got to rest and did so for two and a half hours before we went to dinner.

I think her problem was twofold. First, she was having abdominal action and was uncomfortable. Second, I think she felt insecure being with someone who appeared to be a stranger to Kate. Once I arrived in the lobby, she did not want me to leave her, not even to get the car. When we got home, it was the same. I held her hand all the way to the bathroom. She didn’t want me to leave her.

She was fine from the time we went to dinner until we went to bed. Having heard stories from other caregivers, I suspect we might see more days like this. The good news is that our track record for late in the day is quite good. I only remember one evening when she had a panic attack. Otherwise, it has been the most consistently positive part of our day. I often wonder if that is because it seems to be the most relaxed time of day.

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Ken’s Arrival

Like so many things, especially when it comes to airline travel, Kate’s brother, Ken, and his wife, Virginia, experienced a delay in their arrival yesterday. We were to have had dinner with them last night, but their flight didn’t get here until close to 9:00. I regretted not having that time with them but invited them to drop by our house on the way to their hotel.

They arrived at the house just after 9:30. Kate and I were in the family room when I heard them at them at the door. I got up to greet them. Kate stayed in her chair where she was working a puzzle. Ken and Virginia entered the family room ahead of me and said hello to Kate. They hugged, and she greeted them warmly. Everything seemed perfectly normal. It was a beautiful reconnection with her brother.

We talked about the day’s travel experience and laughed. They were both able to take it in stride. We caught up with their children and grandchildren. We talked a little about our courtship and a letter that her mother had sent to my mother talking about our “friendship.” There were times when Kate was confused and asked for clarification and spoke very little. Otherwise, she was enjoying the conversation along with the rest of us.

After an hour, Ken and Virginia left for their hotel. As soon as they walked out, and I had closed the door, Kate whispered to me, “Who are they, and what are they doing here?” I told her their names. She didn’t recognize them. Then I explained that Ken is her brother, and Virginia is his wife. I was floored that Kate had not realized this. She must have spent the entire time without knowing who they are.

This experience is a good illustration of a couple of things. First, it shows that even someone (me) who knows her condition best makes mistakes in judgment. I know that her memory is gone, but in many ways she still seems very normal to me. That often leads me to expect more of her than I should.

Looking back, I see that I didn’t handle the situation the way I should have. We had been sitting in the family room for over an hour without my reminding her that they were on the way and would be here soon. Of course, she forgot about our earlier conversations about their upcoming visit. I can’t remember exactly what I said when I heard them at the back door. It was probably something like, “They’re here.” That would mean nothing to Kate. In my haste to welcome them, I didn’t even walk ahead and tell Kate, “Your brother Ken and Virginia are here.”

The experience is also an example of how poor Kate’s memory (rational ability) is and how well she is able to handle a social situation through her intuitive abilities. Ken and Virginia are well-informed about Kate’s current decline. I am sure they noticed some changes since their last visit. On the whole, however, my guess is that they didn’t sense just how poor her memory is. I will be eager to get a chance to find out today.

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Confusion Yesterday Morning

Kate woke up around 7:30 yesterday morning to go to the bathroom. She seemed rather alert. I didn’t ask, but she acted as though she knew exactly who I am. I realize, however, that appearances don’t necessarily jibe with reality. She went back to bed and slept until 10:30. This time she was confused.

I asked if she was ready to get up. She said, “I don’t know.” She didn’t look disturbed or frightened. It wasn’t the way she has been when she has had anxiety attacks. I asked if I could help her. She said, “I don’t know.” No matter what I said she said “I don’t know.” Then I suggested that she take a shower and that might help to wake her up. She didn’t want to shower.

I took another tack. I told her she should get dressed, and we could go to the family room where I might be able to show her something that would help. As she was dressing, she asked my name and her own several times. When she was finished, we went to the family room where I picked up the “Big Sister” album. We spent about about twenty minutes looking through it before going to lunch. She didn’t recognize the cover photo of herself with her brother. When we opened to the first page of pictures, she didn’t recognize herself, or her parents. As she has done in the past, she didn’t recognize her father after I identified her mother who was sitting with him. Although she didn’t show any improvement in recognizing her family, she did seem more comfortable than before. Her intuitive abilities were working.

As we drove to lunch, she seemed normal, and I was beginning to think she knew who I was. When we walked from the car to the restaurant, she asked my name. Similar moments like this over the past week suggest that she is close to losing the ability to remember my name and relationship to her. I am not expecting this to happen suddenly, but it is becoming more and more difficult for her to remember my name. I know it will only get worse. I still take satisfaction that she recognizes me as someone she trusts.

Yesterday on Twitter I exchanged several message related to the important of feeling safe among those living with Alzheimer’s. I am also encouraged that she continues to say that she feels safe with me. When this first started occurring, I didn’t know what to make of it. The more I have watched her decline and the more I have read, I have come to realize how frightening it must be not to where one is, who one is with, and “who I am?” I don’t think I would feel safe either.

When we got home, we had about twenty minutes before our sitter, Mary, arrived. Kate wanted to know what she could do. I showed her the three-ring binder with a lot of personal and family information. She was interested. When I left for the Y, she and Mary were seated side by side on the sofa going through the information. I was encouraged.

When I got home Kate was resting on the sofa while Mary sat in a chair across from her. Mary said that she and Kate had spent most of the time looking through the binder and then a couple of the photo books. She said Kate had been resting about an hour.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Kate indicated she was glad I was home and wanted to know “What next?” I told her it was time for dinner. When we returned home, she worked on her iPad until time for bed. She needed my help periodically but never showed any sense of frustration.

She got to bed a little earlier than usual but was still awake when I joined her an hour later. This morning she was up at 8:30 and took a shower. She didn’t show any signs of confusion or grogginess and acted normally toward me. I had her clothes out for her, but she went back to bed where she is resting/sleeping now. We don’t have any special obligations today. I will let her sleep until 11:00 if she doesn’t get up earlier.

The big event of the day actually comes tonight. Kate’s brother, Kevin and his wife, Virginia, are flying in for a short visit. Their flight doesn’t arrive until 7:00 this evening. They are renting a car and will meet us at the restaurant where I have made dinner reservations. Kate has changed a good bit since their visit in the fall, but I am optimistic that it will go well. I will be eager for the two of them to have some time together as they did on their previous visit. We have plenty of photo books to inspire good conversation. I am looking forward to having them with us.

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A Good Day

After resting so much the day before, I hoped that Kate would be up a little earlier yesterday. I got my wish. I didn’t have to wake her. She wasn’t up early enough for Panera, but we did get to lunch shortly after 11:30. She was happy, and we enjoyed our lunch time together.

It didn’t surprise me that she wanted to rest as soon as we got home. She is doing that quite regularly these days. We had hair appointments at 3:00. About 2:25, I reminded her of that, and she got up right away. She took a little time to brush her teeth and use the bathroom, but we arrived for our appointments almost ten minutes early.

When we returned home, she worked on her iPad until time for dinner. That was a little over an hour. She continues to have trouble with the puzzles but did pretty well.

The best part of the day occurred at home after dinner. I have mentioned before that Kate often says, “That goes in the book.” She does that whenever we are talking about things that happened in the past. Almost a year ago, I jotted down a number of things that I thought were of importance to her. That includes the names of her family (grandparents, parents, brother and his wife, our children and grandchildren) our courtship and marriage, places we have lived and traveled, as well as a couple of letters I had sent to my parents when we were dating, one from Kate’s mother to my parents during that same period of time, and another from our son that he sent to us after our 50th anniversary. I put the information in a three-ring binder and included some family photos in the back.

After dinner, I asked Kate if she would like to look at it while I watched the news. She did and enjoyed it. It was difficult for her to read, and she asked me to read parts to her. I was pleased that she was interested. She hasn’t expressed much interest until the past few days. She prefers her photo books. I suspect her memory loss may play a part in the recent appeal of reading about things that have been so much a part of her life.

Going through the book gave a little more understanding of the challenges she has with reading and her photo books. For example, I read the letter from our son. I, of course, told her it was from Kevin. In addition, he talks about us and our marriage from his perspective throughout the letter. When I finished with “Love, Kevin,” she was almost in tears. She said it was beautiful and thanked me for writing it. It’s another illustration of the weakness of her rational abilities and the strength of her intuitive ones. She couldn’t remember that it was from Kevin nor pick up that it was from him by what he said. She was, however, able to pick up on the feelings expressed. She may have assumed it was from me since I read it to her.

Another example involved four photographs I had just added to the binder. One of those is of her grandmother that was taken in Lucerne, Switzerland in the mid-1930s. The other is one of us taken in the same spot in 2015. I had them enlarged to 8 x 10s so that she could see them more easily. I told her who the people were and asked if she noticed anything about where the pictures were taken. She didn’t understand what I was asking. I said, “Do you see anything similar about the two pictures?” It took a lot of help on my part for her to see they were taken at the same place. She would never have noticed without my help.

The other two pictures were of her mother taken on the boardwalk in Quebec City with the Chateau Frontenac Hotel in the background and one of Kate taken in the same place. Her parents had stayed at the hotel on their honeymoon in 1936. We stayed there our on our 41st anniversary in 2004. I went through the same routine with these pictures. I’m not sure she ever understood what they had in common. If she did, it didn’t generate any interest. She was, however, interested in the binder’s overall contents. I am glad about that because it gives her something else to enjoy besides her puzzles and photo books. I also intend to add more information. There is plenty of material I can add. The challenge is how to package it in such a way that it is not overwhelming.

By the way, I originally printed it in a 14-pt. font. I have gradually increased it to 36. I think that may be where I stop. She seemed to be able to read that.

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Our Easter

Since our friend Ellen had her stroke almost four years ago, Easter has been a bit different for us. For years she hosted her church choir for lunch at her house. That is now a thing of the past, and we have replaced that custom by eating at a restaurant. That makes it pretty much the same as other days.

The day started slowly when Kate didn’t want to get up. That is the second time in the past three days. She insisted that I go without her, but I told her I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her. This comes at the same time she is beginning to rest a little more in the afternoon.

We went to lunch at a place that has an Easter buffet. That has become more difficult for her, but I seated her before going to the buffet to get her food. This required two trips as it is a bit cumbersome for me to maneuver two plates around the four or five different serving tables and then back to our own. In addition, it required me to leave Kate while I went to a separate room where the buffet was located. The meal was good, but I don’t think I will do this again. It is much easier to go where there is wait service.

Kate was in a good mood despite her not wanting to get up. That’s one of the good things about memory loss. She quickly forgets moments like this. As we were eating, she said, “What’s your name?” I said, “Richard Creighton.” She repeated it. Then I said “And I’m your husband.” She gave me a dirty look and said, “I know that.” A few minutes later, she asked, “Are  we married?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “I thought so.”

We went home after lunch. Kate said she wanted to rest and remained in bed for almost three hours. By then, it was close to dinner time. As we drove out of the driveway to the restaurant, she said, “I like this place, but I’m ready to go home.” I said, “It’s always nice to be at home.”

As we approached the restaurant, Kate said, “Are you married?” I said, “Are you?” She said, “No.” She said, “Are you?” I said, “Yes. I married a sweet gal named Kate Franklin.” Kate said, “So we are married?” I asked how she felt about that. She said she was fine. I said, “That’s good because we’ve been married a long time.” Since we were close to the restaurant, we didn’t pursue it further.

On the way back, she said, “What can I do when we get home?” For the first time, it struck me that she said “home.” I hadn’t thought about it before, but I usually feel that she doesn’t know where we are or where we are going. I think I am right most of the time, but we do go directly home after eating meals. That must be stored deep within her memory.  I suggested that we look at one of her photo books. She thought that was a good idea, and we spent well over an hour looking at one of her father’s family. She enjoyed every minute but was getting tired. We adjourned to the bedroom where she worked on her iPad until it was time to go to bed. I have had to encourage her to get to bed many nights lately, but that wasn’t necessary this time.

Even though she was in bed a good portion of the entire day, we enjoyed ourselves. After we were in bed, we talked briefly about the day and agreed it had been a good one.

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Growing Confusion

I can’t say that I am observing any new symptoms of Kate’s Alzheimer’s; however, I sense that she is sinking deeper into confusion. The things I report below may sound familiar to you. Just try to imagine that the way she looks and the way she says things suggest something more serious than before.

One of those things is a more consistent failure to realize she is at home. She is routinely ready to take her toothbrush and toothpaste whenever we leave the house. I think she believes we are leaving a hotel. It is becoming commonplace for her to ask where we are when she wakes up.

It also involves an increase in the frequency with which she doesn’t know I am her husband as well as the length of time it takes for her to accept that I am. As we walked from the car to the restaurant for lunch day before yesterday, she said, “Who are you?” I said, “Richard Creighton.” She said, “I know that. Who are you?” I said, “I’m your husband.” She said, “Oh.” There was no other indication of surprise, uneasiness, or enthusiasm. She got the information she wanted and accepted it. While we were eating, she said, “Are you the owner of this place?” I don’t think I have mentioned this before, but she often attributes things to me with which I have no connection. The most common one occurs when we are listening to music in the car. She often says, “Is that you singing?”

At lunch yesterday, she asked my name and then hers. Then she asked, “Who are you?” When I told her, she didn’t believe me. I decided to tell her about our first date and our courtship while I was working at the funeral home. As I recited these experiences she began recognize them. Then I told her we would celebrate our fifty-sixth anniversary next month. I don’t mean to suggest that all her memories came back. It was just enough for her to accept that we are married. Then she asked if we have children.

She is much needier now. She is comfortable with Mary, our sitter; however, when I arrived home that same afternoon, Kate was especially glad to see me. She asked where we were and wanted to get away. She was was relieved when I told her we were at home. I don’t think she feels as comfortable asking Mary where she is.

On the way to dinner that night, she told me she really needs me. She has said this many times before, but it seems different now. Her facial and vocal expressions convey a greater need than the way she used to say it.

The other night after dinner, she wanted to know what to do. This, too, is becoming more common. I told her she could work on puzzles while I watched the news. She did that for almost an hour. Then she got frustrated. I suggested she look at her “Big Sister” photo album. She did for a while but stopped when I put on a DVD of Les Miserables.

Last night as we walked along the sidewalk to Casa Bella, she said something nice that prompted me to remind her that we have been together a long time. She asked how long. I told her almost 56 years since our wedding. She gave me a funny look and said, “Whose wedding?” I repeated that it was ours. She said, “No. You shouldn’t even joke about that.” This time I didn’t try to convince her as I did earlier at lunch.

There are lots of little things that suggest her increasing dependence. One of those is wanting to hold my hand more often than in the past. She frequently says, “I don’t need to, but I feel better.” She also wants my hand to help her in and out of the car and accepts my help buckling her seat belt. During dinner last night, she repeatedly asked me if her iced tea and water was hers. This is not new, but it is more frequent now. She is unsure of what is hers and what is someone else’s. She recognizes that she makes mistakes and doesn’t want to drink one that belongs to another person.

I have been eager to celebrate the many good times we’ve had since Kate’s diagnosis. I’ve also tried to be honest about the problems we have faced. We still have many good moments, but there is no escaping what lies ahead. It saddens me deeply to watch her slowly drift away like this, but I am heartened by hearing from others about precious moments with their loved ones who are farther along on this journey than Kate. In addition, I feel a greater resolve to make the rest of her life as fulfilling as I can.