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“Are you my Daddy?”

After being up at 1:30 and again at 7:45 yesterday, Kate got up for good before 9:30. She seemed rested and didn’t show the same degree of confusion she had shown earlier. She still didn’t recognize me as her husband but wasn’t disturbed by it. She was very much like she was the previous night when she thought of me as a good friend.

We made it to Panera for a muffin just after 10:00. Soon after getting into the car, she asked if I were her daddy. I told her I would be happy to be her daddy. She frowned and said, “So you’re not gonna tell me.” I said, “Do you think of me as your daddy?” She said she did. I said, “Well, I am.” We had a similar exchange at Panera. When I told her I would be happy to be her daddy, she said, “You’re not my daddy.”

A little later at lunch, she said, “What is your real name?” I told her and she said, “You could be my adopted daddy.” I said, “I like that.” She asked my name again. Then she told me that she could introduce me to our server as her adopted daddy. That didn’t happen. By the time the server came back she had forgotten altogether. My interpretation is that she was accepting that I was not her daddy, but she didn’t think of me as her husband. To her it must have seemed appropriate to think of me as someone close enough to be her daddy, hence the idea of her adopted daddy. That may be a nice transition from being her husband. I could live happily with that.

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Thoughts on Telling the Truth (Again)

The issue of telling the truth to a person with dementia is an ongoing conversation. It comes up periodically on the various message boards as well as social media sites like Facebook and Twitter. There seems to be almost universal agreement that caregivers will find that telling the truth can actually be harmful. That happens because people with dementia often live in their own reality. They may believe that deceased parents are still living, that they themselves are living in another place than where they really live, or that someone other than one’s spouse is her spouse. To tell a person that her mother is dead can be hurtful. When a loved one asks where her mother is, it may be much better to say something like “She is at home.” The idea is to keep the answer to something that is brief and clear. There is little need for embellishment.

Up to this point, I’ve been telling Kate the truth except about her diagnosis. I haven’t mentioned her having Alzheimer’s since last summer when I did so on two separate occasions. Neither case created a problem. As time passed, I have been less willing to take a risk. I have been helped by the fact that, until this morning, she hasn’t had a serious concern about why her memory is so poor.

While I agree with the consensus that not telling the truth is often the right thing, I haven’t felt the need to apply that with Kate. That may be because she often asks me where we are, who I am, who she is, etc. It only seems natural to tell her the truth. That has worked well, but recently I have seen signs that I may need to be less truthful with her than in the past. One of those occurred last night.

As we walked from the car to the restaurant for dinner, she called me “Daddy.” Then she asked if I were her daddy. I told her I was happy to be her daddy. She pushed for the truth and asked if I were. I told her I was her husband. Once at the table, the subject came up again. This time when I told her the truth, she looked skeptical. She told me she thought of me as a good friend. She said she liked being with me and felt safe with me. What she said was especially interesting since she had said similar things to me when I assumed she recognized me as her husband. It gave me a different perspective about the things she says about me. I’ve always interpreted them as words that she would only use for a husband, but it became clear to me that there may have been many other times that she has thought of me as a good friend.

To date, I don’t think the truth has caused any problem, but another incident at lunch yesterday came closer to being just that. In that case, she brought up her mother and wanted me to tell her something about her. I began with “She was . . .” Kate quickly said, “Was?” In an attempt to soften the impact of what I had said, I explained that her mother had died thirteen years ago. Then I told her that she had done a really good thing for her mother. I told her that she had cared for her mother the last five and a half years of her life with the help of six or eight paid caregivers. Kate was very sad and teary. As I told her a little more about her mother, she recovered, and all was well. It did make me think about whether to tell her the truth again. She seems to want the truth, but I don’t want to hurt her. Knowing when it is best not to be truthful can be tricky.

Early this morning we had an experience that was a precursor to the one I wrote about in my earlier post. At 1:30, I started to get a cramp in my leg. I got up. When I got back in bed, I noticed that her eyes were open. She looked like she wanted something. I asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom. She did and wanted to know where it was. I told her I would show her. We walked to the bathroom. I asked if she wanted fresh underwear. She did. She thanked me. Before returning to the bedroom, she said, “You must have a wonderful wife.” I told her I did. She said, “She’s very lucky to have you. What’s her name?” I said, “Kate.” As we walked back to the bed, she kept thanking me. She said, “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Before getting in bed, she asked where we were. I told her Knoxville. She said, “I mean where are we right now.” I said, “We’re at our house.” She said, “We are?” She didn’t press me for any further explanation. I was glad. At that time of the morning, I didn’t want to test my judgment about telling or not telling the truth.

Once in bed, she thanked me again. She seemed a bit nervous, not quite shaking but uneasy. I said, “You’re going to be all right. You are safe. I am right here with you. I’ll always be with you.” It wasn’t long before she said, “I feel better now. Thanks to you. <pause> What’s your wife’s name?” I told her. In a few minutes, she asked again. This time when I told her, she said, “That’s my name.” She was relaxed and soon asleep. I got up to record our conversation and returned to bed at 2:35.

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Dinner Conversation

Several times I’ve mentioned that Kate sometimes thinks I am her daddy. Usually, she asks, “Are you my daddy?” when she doesn’t remember who I am. On other occasions, she says something like, “Okay, Daddy. Whatever you say.” These words are less clear in their meaning. It could mean that she was teasing me when she thinks I am treating her like a child. Often I am left in doubt as to what she means.

Last night at dinner we had a conversation that illustrates how she can move seamlessly between understanding and not understanding. I can’t remember the exact words, but here’s my reconstruction of our conversation.

It started when she asked where we were. I told her we were in Knoxville where we had lived for forty-seven years. She said, “And I’ve never had a boyfriend.” I said, “I could be your boyfriend.” She said, “You’re my daddy.” Then she paused a moment to think and said, “I would say that any girl would be happy to have you as her boyfriend.” I thanked her for the compliment. Neither of us said anything for a minute or two. Then she asked asked where we were. Once again, I told her we were in Knoxville. This time I added, “And this is where our two children grew up. They were almost 3 and 1 when we moved here.” Sometimes she expresses surprise. Not this time. She just said, “What are their names?” From this point on we continued the conversation without any sign of her thinking I was her daddy. To me it was a good example of how easily her perceptions seemed to drift from one “reality” to another in such a short span of time.

A related example occurred when we had finished our meal. I asked if she wanted dessert. She said she was full and just couldn’t. I told her I felt the same way. Moments later the server approached the table and asked if we were ready for dessert. Kate said, “What do you have?” I knew then she had made a different decision, and, of course, I enjoyed the fudge brownie and ice cream with her. We’re living in the moment and loving it.

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Happy Moments: Part 2

Shortly after I had explained to Kate that Karen is our daughter and Lee is her husband, she shifted her focus to our relationship. She was happy and said, “I am beginning to feel normal again.” I asked her to explain what she meant. She stumbled on her words, but said, “I am feeling at ease, and I attribute that to you.” She also thanked me “for bringing me here. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here.” She went on to say how much she appreciated my patience with her and how that helped her to feel relaxed. Over the next twenty minutes to our hotel, she continued to express that sentiment. In some of her comments, she noted how many things I do for her that she can’t do. I don’t think she was speaking specifically about things she couldn’t do because of Alzheimer’s, but that is the way it sounded.

When we got to the hotel, she said, “You are my best friend. I feel I can tell you anything. I trust you.” This was mixed with an extension of the conversation we had had in the car. She reiterated how relaxed she is with me. Twice she said, “I feel we just connect, and we haven’t known each other that long.” I started to tell her that I was her husband and that we have been married fifty-five years but decided not to say anything. At various points I thought she knew me as her husband. At others I wasn’t sure. I do know that near the end of our conversation she said, “What’s your name?” To me this was a dramatic illustration of the power of feelings over her rational mind. It is also a reminder that it is only a matter of time before she won’t remember either my name or that I am her husband, but I will treasure moments like this one. She was happy, and although I felt a touch of sadness, I was happy for her.

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Conversations in the Night

We didn’t have uninterrupted sleep night before last in Nashville. We got to bed around 10:00. A few minutes before midnight, Kate needed to get to the bathroom. As usual, she was confused about its location. I left the light on to make it easy, but that didn’t help at all. I helped her. When we got back in bed, she was very relaxed but talkative. She wanted to know where we were. I told her we were in Nashville. She was surprised, but that isn’t unusual. She could easily have felt the same way at home. She was not confused about who I am, however. She talked about our relationship and how fortunate we have been. She gave special attention to our children and how proud we are about both of them. I don’t know how long we (mostly Kate) talked. I suspect it was no more than fifteen or twenty minutes. At that time of the morning it seems longer. Off and on during that time, she asked me several times where we were. One time after she asked, I told her. She said, “I probably won’t remember.” I said, “That’s all right. You can ask as many times as you want.” She said, “I already forgot. Where are we?”

At 2:15, she needed to go to the bathroom again. I helped her. When she got back in bed this time, she did not remember my name or that I am her husband. Neither did she remember that we have children. She wanted to know where we were. We went through our usual question and answer conversation.

Around 6:00, she woke up and seemed quite alert. She was very talkative. Once again, she talked about our relationship, the good times we have had, her mother and father, and our children. This was a longer conversation than either of the earlier ones. The last thing I remember her saying was, “What’s your name?” This time it took me a little off guard. She had seemed so alert that I expected that it was one of those times she remembered it.

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Another Unusual Conversation

After finishing the previous post, I put up my laptop, turned out the light, and got in bed. I quickly discovered that Kate was awake. It was about 9:45, more than two hours since she had gone to bed. I’m not sure how long she had been awake. I suspect it had only been a short time. It could have been the whole time she had been in bed, but I doubt it. It was clear that she was wide awake. She was very talkative. We (she) must have talked thirty minutes before going to sleep.

She began by telling me what she was doing. She wanted me to feel her cheek. I told her it felt very smooth. Then she explained how she made her skin feel that way. She said, “You just wet your skin.” As she said this, she put saliva on her finger and rubbed it across her forearm. She explained that our skin dries out as we age. We can keep it soft by moisturizing it. I was a bit like a psychotherapist. I didn’t say much except to express facilitative comments. She said she was very interested in this and was going to do more study about it. It is hard for me to remember everything she said. I know she  talked about doctors’ knowing these things from their study but that she had learned it on her own through experience. She wanted to know and understand more. She kept saying, “I am really interested in this.” As she talked, she said “this” a lot. At several points, I didn’t understand what “this” was but didn’t stop her.

She made a gradual shift in the conversation. She started talking about the two of us and our relationship. She never asked my name during the entire time. In fact, she used my name several times. On the other hand, it was clear that she did not recognize me as her husband. It reminded me of our previous conversation in which she said, “I think we are going to make a great team.” She made reference to “the other people.” It appeared that she thought we were part of a group at work.

An interesting sidelight is that we were lying next to each other in bed, a very intimate situation. I have no idea where she thought we were. Certainly not in an office somewhere, but she was very circumspect the entire time. It was a very tender conversation without any passionate expressions of love.

She got into this by saying things like, “I feel very at ease with you. I feel I can tell you anything.” I said, “I feel the same way about you. We have a very special relationship.” I kept trying to steer the conversation in the direction of our love for each other. She didn’t rebuff my efforts, but she talked more about her respect for me and not love. It was only late in the conversation after I said I loved her that she acknowledged that she was beginning to feel the same way about me.

Knowing that I would be unable to remember everything that she said, I reached over to my bedside table and got my phone to record our conversation. I am inserting excerpts from that conversation below.

KATE:            I feel more that way now. (That she could tell me anything.)

RICHARD:    More than you used to?

KATE:            I think so.

RICHARD:   I think that’s because we’ve been together so long.

KATE:            Yeah. That’s right, but anyway, Richard, I think we can work together. Not just the two of us but with all the others.

RICHARD:   Who are the others?

KATE:             Sure.

RICHARD:   I think we’ve had a good relationship.

KATE:            I think we have too. And I imagine that it’ll be getting better. I’m feeling more at ease with you. It’s kinda hard to say, but now I’m probably going to be <pause> I have always been honest with you, but I would probably be more (she stumbled on the word she wanted)

RICHARD:    Revealing?

K                    Thank you. Now I could say this to you and ask you to come with the right word and don’t think anything about it.

 

RICHARD:   Good, I’m glad you feel that comfortable.

K                    I’ve always felt fairly comfortable with you, but I’m feeling much more comfortable now. And I think that’s important.

R                   I do, too.

K                    For you and for him

R                   Wait, for me and for Him? Him Who?

K                    You.

R                   I’m so glad we’ve been together a long time.

K                    Well, it’s long and not.

R                   It doesn’t seem as long as it has.

K                    There have been many short times we have worked together.

R                   Well, we’ve been living together though.

K                    Yeah? Right. (expressing her disbelief with a laugh)

R                   We’ve just lived together 55 years.

K                    (again laughs in disbelief) Huh? Don’t throw that on me.

R                   You don’t believe that?

K                    No.

R                   But you do admit we’ve had a good relationship.

K                    Oh, yes. Absolutely! I think from the beginning, it was just ‘Yes, I think he’s just a guy guy, but it wasn’t anything too overhead.’

R                   Now what is it?

K                    It’s getting kinda overhead.

R                   It’s getting overhead?

K                    Oh, yeah. <pause> Oh, yeah. <pause> Much more respect. Liking to be with you. Being willing to say what I really want to tell you. Well, I’ve aways been honest with you.

R                   You know that I love you, don’t you?

K                    You do? <pause> Well, I think I’m loving you.

R                   You do. That’s good. That makes me feel good. I’ve loved you a long time.

K                    Well, I like to be with you so much, so that’s the same. That’s the same. I feel I can always talk with you, be honest with you. And I’m impressed with so many of the things you are able to do. I respect you.

R                   Thank you, Baby.

K                    Well, I’m telling you the truth. The more I get to know you, the more I respect you and like you. And I think that’s wonderful.

R                   I’m so glad.

K                    This is the most  . . I don’t know how to say it. But we understand each other, and we respect each other.

R                   I think we do.

K                    And those are two important things.

R                   And loving each other is important too.

K                    Oh, yes.

R                   You know, this month on December 19 we celebrate the anniversary of our first date in 1961.

K                    WHAT?? 1961??

R                   1961.

K                    That’s a long way. We’ve always connected. <pause> In different ways now. More real honesty. Revealing ourselves and what we think.

R                   You’re very special to me.

K                    You’ve very special to me.

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Why does “roller coaster” come to mind?

This has been quite a day. Let me see if I capture it in words. First of all, there was no sleeping in today. I heard Kate push open the door from the back of the house to the family room. When I checked, she was standing in the doorway fully dressed. It was 9:15. I walked over to her and said, “Good morning.” She said, “Let’s go.” She was impatient, ready for her muffin at Panera. I told her I needed a few minutes to get ready and that I would get her medicine for her. She said, “What medicine?” Apparently, she had forgotten she takes pills each morning. This was the first time she has responded this way about her meds.

She went to the kitchen. I went to our bathroom for her medicine. I heard her say loudly, “Hey.” Before I could answer, she said it again. I got the pills and headed toward the kitchen. Again, I heard her say, “Hey, are you coming?” It is not uncommon at all for her to rush me when she is ready. This morning she was more vociferous than usual.

I put her meds on the island where I put them every morning along with a glass of water. After taking half of them, she turned around to the sink and poured out the water. I noticed the others she had left and called her attention to them. This, too, is becoming a frequent pattern, so I am watching more closely to see that she takes them. When I pointed them out, she said, “Why didn’t you put them over here where I could see them – on the counter by the sink where she was standing.” (At one of Kate’s recent doctor’s appointments, the doctor mentioned the possibility of reducing the number she takes. He was talking about her Aricept (donepezil) and Namenda (memantine). I told him I didn’t know that they worked at all, but Kate was doing well. I wasn’t ready to drop them, primarily because there is some evidence that a decline sometimes follows that. I am still not ready to drop these two prescriptions; however, I believe we might be able to give up the vitamin D and calcium. That will be something to discuss at Kate’s next appointment.)

Once we were in the car, she continued her “gruffness” only this time she was trying to be funny. It wasn’t working. It was almost like a Don Rickles bit, and I was the victim. She said some of the things she has said before. She said that I wasn’t handsome and talked about my nose. She surprised me by asking me if she had a nose like mine. I told her she didn’t. She was relieved.

As we got out of the car, one of our Panera friends drove into the space beside us. I said something about his wife’s not being with him. Kate said something like, “I guess she didn’t want to be seen by you.” That is totally out of character for her. I’ve never heard her say something like that to anyone else but me. She was kidding, but it didn’t sound like it.

Once we were inside and about to sit down, Kate stopped and said something to a man seated at the next table. I didn’t heard what she said, but she was telling him something about me. She started to turn away. Then she stopped and said something else to the man. I set up her iPad for her and went to get her a drink. When I brought her drink to her, she said thank you. Then she spoke to the man she had spoken to earlier and said, “He’s really a nice guy.”

Her behavior was not just notable because she was teasing but not doing a good job of it. It was more like she were playing a role and not herself. Normally, she wouldn’t be talking so much, nor would she say the things she said. She continued in the car on the way to lunch. Once again, she was “teasing” me. Something came up about our relationship, and I told her we were married. She expressed surprise. That was nothing new. Then she said, “Is that for real?” I told her it was. She said, “I don’t know what I was thinking. In a few minutes, she said, “You know I’m kidding, don’t you?. You’re a nice guy. What’s your name?” Her tone was very different than before. She was more like herself.

As we settled in at our table in the restaurant, we had a rather typical conversation except that she was more talkative than usual. Several times she asked me questions about her mother and father, my name, her name and where we live. Our server commented that she hadn’t had to refill my coffee as much as she usually does. I also didn’t finish my salad before the entrée arrived. I told her I hadn’t had time because we were talking so much.

After lunch, we drove back to the house. On the way, Kate said she loved me. I told her I loved her as well. Then she said, “What’s your name?” She was very tired and asked if it would be all right if she took a nap when we got home. I told her that would be fine. She didn’t waste much time before she was in the bed where she remained for an hour and a half before I asked if she would like to get out of the house. She was ready, so now we are at Barnes & Noble. We’ll be here another thirty or forty minutes before going to dinner. I’m glad to say it seems like she is back to normal.

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Conversation

One of the things I have heard from other spouse caregivers is how much they miss the kind of conversations they used to have. That is something with which I can easily relate. If you are a regular visitor to this site, you have heard me talk about how well Kate and I get along. That is possible because we have let go of the things she can’t do and focused on what she can. That has enabled us to enjoy many things together – travel, music, theater, and social engagement with friends, family, and even strangers. I never imagined that we would be able to get along this well so far into our journey.

Having said that, our story wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t recognize the impact that Kate’s Alzheimer’s has had on conversations between us and her conversations with others. There is much in life we can enjoy without depending on our rational thought processes, but much of ordinary conversation depends on memory of people, names, and events. We tell others about a book we are reading, or the movie we saw yesterday, the meal we had last night, what our children and grandchildren are doing. As Kate has lost her memory, she has significantly less that she can talk about. There is little content left.

Another consequence of her memory loss is not understanding what has been said. She often stops me and asks me to repeat what I have said. This is something that has become a greater problem recently. It is as though her brain’s processing has slowed down and the conversation is so rapid she can’t understand. Several times recently when we have been with a group, she has jumped in to say something like, “Wait, stop! Who are we talking about?” I have been pleased that she speaks up in this way. It shows she hasn’t dropped out of the conversation. That is her typical way of responding.

When it is just the two of us, she asks me to repeat a significant portion of what I say. Most of the time, it is because I am giving her information too quickly. She also misunderstands certain words. Sometimes I have to repeat a word several times before she gets it. She may have a build up of wax in her ears. She experiences that from time to time, but I don’t recall its affecting her hearing. I need to check this out.

It is especially easy for her to get lost in a group, even when we are with just one other couple. When we are at a table of six or eight for one of Casa Bella’s music nights, she simply withdraws. We have an hour for dinner and conversation followed by an hour and a half of music. In that case, the music saves the day.

Kate’s most successful conversations have been one on one. I can think of three of those that have occurred over the past year. One of those occurred with our friends, Ann and Jeff Davis. We were in their home when the conversation drifted into one between Jeff and me and another between Ann and Kate. It continued for quite a while. I recall overhearing Kate say a few things that were not accurate. When she can’t remember things, she fills in with something else. Otherwise, Kate appeared like a person without Alzheimer’s.

Another was a few months ago when she received a visit from a church friend. I left the two of them in the family room while I did a few things in the kitchen. I was amazed at the flow of conversation. It was a perfectly normal conversation between two friends. The most recent was two weeks ago today when our housekeeper was here. When we returned from lunch, she and the housekeeper sat down and talked for about thirty minutes. In all three of these conversations, Kate was an active participant. I loved hearing her speak so comfortably.

Earlier this week, we ran into a couple we have met at Barnes & Noble. They asked us to join them at their table. We spent about an hour in conversation. I was surprised at how active Kate was although she did not appear as natural. I had told the couple about Kate’s Alzheimer’s on a previous occasion, so I suspect they appropriately attributed her behavior to her illness. Instead of pulling back in the conversation, she gently worked her way into it. The problem was that she kept talking about her mother and interjecting her comments in the middle of what others were saying. Her comments were totally out of context. It appeared that she wanted to participate but couldn’t judge the appropriate timing and didn’t know what to say except to talk about her mother. As with other things, she doesn’t remember a lot of specifics about her mother. Thus, all her comments are expressions of how thoughtful and kind her mother was. She often says, “She liked to help people.” She repeated essentially the same things several times.

There is something else that happens when she speaks. This is new within the past six months or so. She can’t think of the words she wants to say. Sometimes she mispronounces a word incorrectly in a way that I don’t understand. When it is just the two of us, she often says, “Well, you know what I mean.” Most of the time, I don’t.

Overall, the nature of our conversation has radically changed. We talk less. When we talk, we express our feelings about life, our family, and things we have done together. I often tell her about specific things that I know she can’t remember. I do have a concern that when I tell her things it also serves as a reminder that she can’t remember. So far, she seems to like this, especially when I tell her about our children and grandchildren as well as her parents and grandparents. What I like best about our conversations is that they always focus on good things. I think that is good for both of us.

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More Confusion in the Past Two Days

Changes in the Past Two Days

Two things happened night before last that are indicative of the kind of changes Kate is making. After returning home from dinner, she sat down with her iPad. It wasn’t long before she asked for help. It turned out that she thought the puzzles were photos and was trying to figure out how she could label them. At first, I didn’t understand that and tried to show her how to put the pieces together. She responded by asking me to put the pieces in place. I worked two puzzles and asked if she didn’t want to work them herself. She said something that made me realize that she didn’t understand they were puzzles. Then she said she was tired and thought she would put the iPad aside and work on it “tomorrow.” I told her I would put on some music she might enjoy. She said she would to get ready for bed.

After she was in bed a few minutes, I noticed that she was shaking. I asked if she were all right. She said, “I think I made a big mistake and hope I didn’t mess things up.” I asked her to tell me about it. She didn’t know what she had done. She just thought she had done something she shouldn’t have. I told her I was going to take my shower. She said, “When you finish, will you come to bed.” I told her I would even though that would be a little early for me. After my shower, she was still worried about having done something wrong. All I could do was hold her and try to assure her that everything would be all right. I didn’t convince her, but she gradually calmed down and went to sleep.

Over the course of her illness, she has had periodic episodes that involved her thinking I had told her something that I hadn’t or that someone was coming to visit that wasn’t. I can’t help wondering if she is going to experience more of this kind of thing in the days ahead. I hope not. In the past, what she has imagined has bothered her. I hope we can avoid that.

During dinner last night and afterward, Kate was especially confused. She always asks the name of the restaurant as well as the hostess and our server. She just asked more times than usual and also appeared to be struggling more to get it right. She works so hard to remember names and places.

We had the following conversation on the way home.

KATE:            “What are we?”

RICHARD:    “Do you mean the nature of our relationship?”

KATE:            “Yes.”

RICHARD:    “We are married. Are you disappointed?”

KATE:            “No, I’m glad. What is your name?”

RICHARD:    “Richard Lee Creighton.”

KATE:            “What is my name?”

We are working our way into a regular routine when we return home. She said, “I’ll follow you.” She was impressed with the family room. As in the past, it was as though she had never been here before. Then something new occurred. She saw her iPad on a chair and asked, “What is this?” I said, “That’s your iPad” She gave me a look that I interpreted as, “What’s an iPad?” I explained it was something that she could use to work jigsaw puzzles. I wish you could have seen the excitement on her face. She said, “Oh, I’d like to do that right now.” I was shocked that she didn’t know what her iPad is, but it obviously caught her attention. As with people whose names she can’t remember, she didn’t recognize what it was, but she knew it was something familiar.

She mentioned wanting to brush her teeth. I told her to follow me to our bathroom. When she walked in our bedroom, she said, “Oh, this is nice.” Once again, she seemed not to recognize having ever been here before. After she went to bed, she said, “It’s been nice to stay here.” Apparently, she thought we were out of town.

When I got into bed, I moved close to her and put my arm around her. She accepted that as naturally as ever. Then she said something that made me think she didn’t recognize that I am her husband. I said, “You remember that I am your husband, don’t you?” She couldn’t believe it. Then she said, “Could we talk about this tomorrow?”  It seems like she is making noticeable changes on almost a daily basis. I don’t like the direction in which we are going.

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A Very Early and Unusual Start Yesterday

It seems like almost every day brings something new. It happened again yesterday morning. I got up to go the bathroom just before 4:30. When I got back into bed, Kate pointed toward the bathroom and said, “Is he still there?” I said, “No, he’s gone.” Then she started to get up. I thought she wanted to go to the bathroom. I asked if that was where she was going. She said, “No.” One of the interesting things was that she appeared to be wide awake. She showed no signs of grogginess the way she usually does when she wakes up. In this case, I don’t think she was really awake. I think she was sleep walking and talking in her sleep. The way she talked just didn’t sound the way she would normally talk. It was more like she and I had been in a conversation, and she was continuing it. I suppose it was more hallucination than anything else. Maybe she was having a dream.

Then she began to look for a light. She finally found the lamp on the table beside my bed and turned it on. I didn’t understand everything she was saying, but it seemed clear that she was planning to get up for the day. I told her it was 4:30 in the morning and that we ought to go back to sleep for a while. She turned off the light and went to the bathroom where she said she was going to brush her teeth. She took longer than I thought was necessary, and I got up to check on her. She had squeezed toothpaste into a plastic cup that she keeps on the counter and filled it with water. Then she started turning the mix with her tooth brush. I helped her get toothpaste on her brush and suggested we get to bed. Then she asked if someone was going to clean up the mess she had made. I told her to leave it and someone would take care of it. When she got up later, she seemed fine.

At lunch, I said something about our having lived in Raleigh after finishing graduate school at the University of Wisconsin. She asked, “What were we doing in Raleigh.” I told her that I was on the faculty at NC State. She said, “What did you teach?” It was telling that nothing rang a bell as I told her about our time there.

She was also a little confused at dinner. We ate at our regular Friday night pizza place. As we walked in, she said she liked their “Christmas lights.” There were no Christmas lights. In fact, I didn’t see anything that looked like lighting that she would have confused as Christmas lights. Fortunately, she didn’t turn that into a conversation. I don’t think I could have carried that off for very long. It wasn’t long before she said, “I think I’m going to miss this place.” I took that to mean Knoxville. It’s been a while since she has said much about our moving to Texas, but she has said several things lately that convey that is still on her mind.

When we got back home, she responded to our house as though it is not the house in which we are currently living. She wanted to brush her teeth and asked me where the bathroom is. I showed her. A little later, she specifically asked me who lived here. I told her it was our house and that we had lived here for 21 years. She found that puzzling. She didn’t remember it at all.

She was also very tired and got into bed a few minutes after 8:00. I hope that means she will get up early today. I’d rather not have to rush her. We are going to Nashville to visit her friend Ellen.