Update on In-Home Care

It’s been a while since I’ve commented on Kate and her sitters. That’s a good sign. Everything has been going well. Yesterday was a good example. Kate was up much earlier, and we returned from Panera about 10:15. She was tired and made her way to the sofa as soon as we walked in.

The sitter, Cindy, arrived about 11:50. She is always early. I like that because it gives me a little more time to get to Rotary before 12:30. I met her at the door and walked with her to the family room. Then I walked over to Kate and said, “Guess who’s here? Cindy. And she’s taking you to lunch.” Kate immediately sat up and with a big smile told her she was glad to see her.”

When I got home, I walked into the kitchen and said, “I’m back.” I heard Kate say enthusiastically, “Good.” She was happy to see me, but it didn’t seem like she was greatly relieved. That kind of departure and return home is what I like to see. I want her to feel comfortable with her sitters. The more comfortable she is the better I feel about leaving her.

That has taken a long time. In fact, it has been two years and two months since I first engaged the sitters. It is only in the past 4-6 weeks that I have felt good about leaving. Sometimes she still asks, “What are we going to do?” (as she did yesterday) when I am ready to leave, but she doesn’t seem uneasy about my departure. On Mondays, I tell her that Cindy is taking her to lunch. That seems to take care of any concern she has. Sometimes she says, “I don’t have any money.” I tell her that Cindy can pay with a gift card I bought.

I started with two sitters, one on Monday and the other on Wednesday and Friday. Each visit is four hours from noon until 4:00 on Monday and 1:00 until 5:00 the other days. When I began, I fully expected to increase the number of days and/or the amount of time they are here. I haven’t because I don’t feel the need. Our insurance covers eight hours a day. That gives me plenty of room to increase Kate’s care at no cost, but I still enjoy being with her.

Having said that, I do find that my personal time is declining. That is true largely because I need to be more directly involved in entertaining her. That relates to her not using the iPad as much. Some of that is offset by her resting more, but I don’t want her to rest solely because she doesn’t know what to do. Given these changes, I may find myself open to adding more time in the next six months or so.

We have been lucky in that Mary, the Wednesday/Friday sitter, has been with us since almost the beginning. That continuity has made me feel better. I think it has been good for Kate as well. We have had several changes with our Monday sitter. Cindy, the current one, has been with us several months. I am comfortable with both of them and hope they will be around for the forseeable future.

Yesterday’s Happy Moment: An Example of Kindness

I don’t recall exactly when Kate and I began eating out for lunch and dinner. It was at least eight years ago, perhaps longer. In January, it will be nine years since her diagnosis. I was still working then, but I started taking Kate to lunch almost every day. For our evening meals I prepared a meal at home or brought in something from a nearby restaurant.

I soon tired of fixing dinner and cleaning up afterwards. The meals themselves didn’t seem special. That’s when I decided to eat out for all our lunches and dinners. I was motivated by convenience and a desire to concentrate on having a good time with Kate. As I learned long ago, change brings about unintended consequences. Yes, I did find it easier to eat out than to prepare or bring something in, but that turns out to be a smaller part of the story. What I discovered is that eating out became not only a time for Kate and me; it became a moment of social engagement that has been a lifeline from the very beginning.

As a result of our going to the same restaurants on a weekly basis, we have come to know the servers, hostesses, and other personnel. Just as important, they have come to know us. From the beginning, I informed them of Kate’s Alzheimer’s. This was long before I had my printed Alzheimer’s cards. I wanted them to be aware so that they would understand if they ever noticed something that might seem a bit strange.

Much is written about caregivers and their need for support. Earlier this week, I saw a Tweet that indicated that 74% of caregivers never ask for help. I understand that; I’m not prone to ask for help myself.

I’ve also read about the importance of a caregiver’s “building a team of support.” That caused me to reflect on our own situation. I had never thought about doing that for Kate and me, but that is exactly what has developed because of eating out. Yes, it consists of many short-term interactions and is not like the long-standing relationship of close friends. However, it provides a good bit of support and not just to me as a caregiver, but to Kate as well. We experienced a good example of that yesterday at lunch.

A month ago, the young woman who had served us the past three years for our Saturday lunch left her job for another one. We continue to go to the same restaurant and are getting good service, but I have missed the one with whom we had gotten so well-acquainted. Last week, I sent her a text and invited her to be out guest at one of our other restaurant. I didn’t know when I asked her, but it turned out to be her birthday.

We had a nice conversation under more leisurely conditions than when she was serving us. She has always given a lot of attention to Kate and did so again yesterday. I was careful to seat Kate directly across from her to make that easier than if I had been seated there. I’ve done this on several other occasions and sense that it makes a difference.

I made reservations and requested a server that has taken care of us frequently. When I introduced her to our guest, I mentioned that she had been our server at another restaurant. That opened the door to a little conversation between the two of them. The obviously shared a number of things in common.

The big surprise came after we had finished our meal. I told our server I knew we wanted a dessert since it was our guest’s birthday. I expected that she would bring the dessert menu. Instead, she came back with two desserts, a crème brûlée cheesecake with a candle and a large chocolate cake with raspberry filling between the layers. She said she had bought the cake especially for Kate who was touched and broke into tears of joy. Then the server left and brought a beautiful potted plant for her. Nothing could have been better. We have added that to Kate’s other flowering plants in our family room and on the patio where she can enjoy it every day.

It was a beautiful way to end our meal. It was also a reminder of how kind people can be. Incidentally, this was the same restaurant where some anonymous person paid for our meals two weeks ago and where that same server had brought her mother in to meet us. None of the restaurant personnel think of themselves as playing a role as members of our “support team,” but they are and have been. It really makes a difference in our lives and is just one other example of how fortunate we have been.

 

We Still Have Happy Moments

In my last post I mentioned a sad moment Kate and I had experienced when she was so disturbed about the way she looks. I’d like to balance that with a couple of happy moments. We still have them, and they seem more important now than ever before. I think about “moments” more lately because it seems harder for me to describe a full day in a single word.

Two times in the past few days we have had an especially good time looking through her family photo books. Both of those occurred after her afternoon rest. In each case, I took the initiative of suggesting we sit down side by side and look at one. I make a point of that because she often looks at the cover of one of her books, but she doesn’t spend much time with them by herself. I think it must be that she doesn’t recognize the people, at least most of them, and she doesn’t have the ability to recall or imagine anything about the pictures or the people in them. She needs someone to give her specific names and information that provides the context for what her eyes see.

As it is for other activities we share together, I have as much fun going through the photo books as she does. Of course, a significant aspect of the pleasure for me is seeing her eyes light up and hearing her enthusiasm as we look at each photo. She continues to comment on people’s smiles and their eyes. Her primary interest appears to be in the mood of each person. I don’t recall her mentioning anything about clothes that people wore or anything else. She does say good things about her family as a group. Her strongest feelings are for her parents, especially her mother, but she expresses those mostly when she looks at some of their framed pictures around the house.

I find these moments a good substitute for our afternoon trips to  Barnes & Noble. We rarely go there now. When we finish, it is about time for dinner. It sets a nice tone to our relationship that extends until bedtime. That remains the most predictable good time of the day. I think that is because neither one of us feels any pressure. It’s a time when we just relax together.

Yesterday Kate was in a good mood when she got up, and it lasted all day. At lunch we had another happy moment. Kate was unusually talkative. I can’t begin to remember all the things she said. A lot of it involved how fortunate she and I have been. She was upbeat about everything.

There was a sad moment, however, when the server stopped at our table and said something nice to Kate. After she left, Kate commented on that. She specifically noted that the server had talked to her and that people usually talk to me. I have noticed the same thing. She didn’t seem disturbed about it. I think there are two things that account for that. One is that people don’t know what to say. The other is that Kate is slow to respond. That makes it hard for her to play an active role in a conversation with three or more people.  The conversation then drifts to one between the others and me.  Maybe that is why conversations like the one we had yesterday mean so much. She is relaxed and can be herself.

Last night we had dinner with a couple we know from our music nights at Casa Bella. We arrived first, and Kate already seemed like she needed to prepare herself. As she often does when it is just the two of us, she picked up the menu. She quickly found that she couldn’t read it and asked me what she should get. I explained that she usually gets either the Tortelloni alla Stephania or the Tortelloni alla Panna. I told her I would order for her and that she had the Stephania last week, so she might like the alla Panna this week. She tried several times to pronounce it.

About that time, our friends arrived. As soon as they were seated, Kate asked their names. She tried to repeat them back and was able to do so after a couple of tries. Of course, she forgot them immediately, so she asked again several times back to back before stopping.

Then she gave her attention to what she should order. I told her I thought she would like the Tortelloni alla Panna. She tried unsuccessfully to pronounce it. Then she asked Lisa. She and Lisa worked on the pronunciation a few times. Fortunately, the server came for our order a few minutes later, and I gave her our orders. Kate was off the hook. She must have felt a sense of relief to have that hurdle behind her.

She really wanted to be a part of the conversation, but it was too hard for her. Lisa is a fast talker. Ben speaks softly. At first, she kept asking each of them to repeat things that she didn’t understand. After a while, she just gave up. Because it was such a challenge for Kate, I thought this was likely to be one of the last times we get together. When we said goodbye, I asked Kate how she had enjoyed the evening. She said she enjoyed it.  She didn’t seem bothered in any way. Nevertheless, I believe situations like this may become even more difficult in the future. I will certainly stop them if that happens. Until then, I think it is good for both of us to have the additional stimulation of being with other people.

Experiences like this make our happy moments together even more important. I am optimistic that we still have a lot of them in the days ahead whether it is just the two of us or with others.

Success With a Movie

Movies have always been an important source of entertainment for Kate and me. They were even more important during the early stages of her Alzheimer’s. It became increasingly difficult, however, for her to enjoy them because she couldn’t understand the plot or what was going on in the different scenes. That led me to become more careful in the movies I chose. I discovered that she could enjoy some movies if she liked the characters and they didn’t contain any depressive content. I focused on uplifting films.

Occasionally, I would try something that looked doubtful. Once in a while that worked. The best illustration is Darkest Hour. That would seem to be one she might not like. I knew, however, that she had always taken an interest in books and movies about World War II, especially those that dealt with the Holocaust. Although she couldn’t follow everything that happened, she was taken by it. At that point, she remembered Churchill and WWII. She understood the subject matter was serious, and she appreciated the acting.

After that good experience, I had a series of failures; however, I struck gold with RBG (saw it twice) and Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (saw it four times in four weeks). Two days ago, I received an email from our local arts theater that Linda Ronstadt, another documentary, was opening this weekend. I read a little more about it and learned that it is a “feel-good” movie. That cinched it for me. I really hadn’t followed Ronstadt’s career, but I had two of her CDs, ‘Round Midnight and Canciones de mi Padre and was always impressed with her success across so many musical genres.

I still had some concerns about how Kate would respond. I knew she wouldn’t remember Ronstadt although she has enjoyed Round Midnight for years including the past week, but I thought it might be worth trying. I’m glad I did. Kate enjoyed all of the film but was particularly moved during the last part when it dealt with her Ronstadt’s Parkinson’s. At that point, she put one arm around mine and held my hand with her other hand.

As we walked out, she said something she almost always says when leaving a movie, “you’re gonna have to explain this to me when we get home.” She couldn’t grasp what was happening, but she enjoyed the movie anyway. How do I explain that? I’ll try to do that in my next post.

Yesterday: A Good Day

It was 7:25 yesterday morning. I had just finished my breakfast and about to take the dishes to the dishwasher. I glanced at the screen of the iPad that is connected to the video cam in our bedroom. Kate was about to sit up in bed. I went back to help her get to the bathroom. When I reached her, she gave me a smile but didn’t speak. I asked if I could help her. She said she didn’t know. I told her it was a beautiful morning and directed her attention out the window to the back yard. She must have been a little groggy because she didn’t respond as enthusiastically as usual. I asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom. She asked where it was, and I told her I would show her.

On the way, she said, “I know this is a nice place, but I want to go home.” Normally, I say something like, “I’ve got good news for you. We are at home.”  That has often worked before but not as much lately. I decided to redirect her attention and suggested we first get to the bathroom and then get dressed.

When we finished, she again mentioned wanting to go home. I told her we first needed to get her dressed. She was obviously eager to get home because getting dressed went more quickly than usual. I know that wanting to go home is a common request of people with dementia. Some authorities interpret it as an effort to escape from the symptoms of the disease. I have always been somewhat skeptical about this interpretation, but I do recognize that Kate has often said things that I believe are references to her Alzheimer’s. They include things like “I’ll be glad when this is over.” “I don’t like this. I know you don’t like it either.” Each time she says these things I try to figure out what she is talking about. I have never been able to identify anything specific. That makes me wonder if she is referring to her general feelings, difficulties, or confusion that accompany the disease. As I observe more of this, I am beginning to accept the idea that wanting to go home is, indeed, a desire to escape her Alzheimer’s and return to a place that symbolizes comfort and peace. What happened after we left the house might also support that idea.

The moment she walked into the family room, she showed her first signs enthusiasm for the day. She noticed a pot of African violets and one with orchids. She also did her usual scanning of the back yard followed by looking at her ceramic cat, the photo of her father, and the photo of our son. She experienced an almost immediate shift in mood.

We arrived at Panera just before 8:30, the earliest we have been there in quite some time. I set up her iPad and opened the puzzle app and then got her a drink and a muffin. By 9:30, she was frustrated over her puzzles and also tired. I asked if she would like to go home. She did.

As we drove to the house, I wondered if she had forgotten about her desire to “go home” or if going to our home would be perceived as going to the home she had talked about earlier. As we drove up to the house, I mentioned it was ours. She said, “Oh, yes. I didn’t recognize it at first.” That is quite unusual. She almost always does even though she sometimes thinks of as where we are staying or a house in which we previously lived.

Once inside she wanted to rest. I turned on some soft music and brought my laptop into the family room and sat with her until just before the sitter came. This was a rare time when she actually went to sleep. I wasn’t surprised because she had gotten up so much earlier than usual. I am sure she slept at least an hour. When she awoke, she looked over at me and smiled. She was very peaceful and happy. We communicate a lot with our facial expressions. I could tell from hers and her voice that all was well. She was at home.

We talked about how nice it was to relax with the music in the background. In a few minutes, I asked if she would like to look at one of her photo books. She did. I sat beside her on the sofa, and we spent ten or fifteen minutes doing that before she was tired again. She rested another thirty minutes before the sitter arrived.

I am always eager to see how she responds to the sitter. I was happy to see that she greeted Cindy with outstretched arms. It was like she had seen an old friend. As I left, I felt good knowing that she had moved so well from wanting to get out of the house and “go home” to having a peaceful morning.

The bonus of the day came when I got back. I found her and the Cindy were engaged in conversation. Kate was quite talkative. They were discussing plants. It isn’t often I see Kate as a major contributor to conversation. I think I was happier than she was.

She was tired at the end of the day and went to bed earlier than usual after being frustrated with her puzzles, but the two experiences of our morning together and her experience with the sitter made it another good day.

Another Good Day

Kate woke up at 8:00 in a good humor and appeared to recognize me. At least she greeted me with a smile. As we entered the bathroom, she said, “Excuse me, I don’t remember your name.” She asked just the way she would have done with a casual acquaintance. I said, “My name is Richard, and I am your husband.” When I said, “husband,” she looked surprised and doubtful. When this happens, I shift gears. I said, “Let’s say we’re good friends. How’s that?” She said, “Yes, you’re a good friend.”

While on the toilet, she asked my name at least two or three other times and again as she started to brush her teeth.

Her usual pattern would have been to return to bed, but she was ready to get dressed. I was happy about that. I had arranged for the sitter to come at 11:30 instead of 1:00 because I had a United Way meeting at noon. Her being up early provided enough time to get her a muffin at Panera, pass a little time there, and easily get back home before the sitter’s arrival. As it turned out, we got home forty-five minutes before the sitter.

While at Panera, she said, “Do you have a girl friend?” I hesitated a moment and then said, “I would say that you are my girl friend.” With tears in her eyes, she said, “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She went on to say, “When we get older, I think you will be somebody like (struggling for the right word) a bank president or something.” I thanked her and said, “We are fortunate to have found each other.” That prompted her to begin a conversation (almost a soliloquy) about other people who haven’t been as fortunate as we have been. I was mostly a facilitator. This conversation lasted about fifteen minutes before she was ready to go home.

I didn’t say anything about the sitter’s coming until the doorbell rang. I explained to Kate that I was going to a meeting and that she and Mary were going to have lunch together. She gave me a dirty look and asked why I couldn’t go with them, but she didn’t look insecure. “Irritated” would be a better description.

This was the longest I have left her, almost five rather than four hours. That made me wonder what she might be like when I got home. As it turned out, she and Mary were seated on the sofa looking at her mother’s family photo book. She didn’t even look up when I walked in the room. I was glad to see that. It encourages me to see her sharing moments like this with Mary. I feel that is an important bond. Mary has been with us for over two years while the Monday sitter has changed several times. I would hate to lose her.

After Mary left, Kate and I picked up the same photo book. We didn’t get far. She was tired and wanted to rest before going to dinner. At dinner, she expressed her desire to get to bed early multiple times. Instead, she became occupied with her iPad until 8:00 when I suggested she might go to bed. She was ready. When I joined her about 9:45, she was still awake. I’m not sure when she went to sleep. I know that I dosed off and woke a little later, and she was still awake.

I don’t know whether Kate remembered my name or our relationship the balance of the day. I know that she acted as though she did and didn’t ask my name again. It was a relaxing day, another day in which we enjoyed being together. I am happy to say that.

Relaxed and Happy, But Confused

After Kate’s insecurity yesterday morning, I wondered what the rest of the day would be like. I’m happy to say that it was a very relaxing and peaceful day. I didn’t get her up until almost 11:15. Like the day before, she got up and dressed rather quickly. She was in a good mood and didn’t show any signs of confusion except for not knowing where the bathroom is located.

As we walked along the sidewalk outside the restaurant where we ate lunch, we passed a group of women who were having lunch after their weekly game of tennis. We see the almost every week and don’t know their names, but we always speak briefly when we are either going in or leaving. Kate was especially friendly. I don’t recall what Kate said, but it was something that I suspect made them wonder a little about her. I thought about giving them one of my Alzheimer’s cards but didn’t. I may do that another time.

When our server brought our drinks, Kate gave her a nice greeting and asked her name. She has done this the past couple of times she has served us. She not only asked but tried to repeat it but mispronounced it. The she asked the server to spell it. I informed the server about Kate’s diagnosis long ago or she might have wondered about her. As it was, I think she felt the way I did and appreciated the fact that Kate was interested in trying to learn her name.

We spent a quiet afternoon in our family room at home. Kate wanted to rest as soon as we walked in. Unlike most days, she went to sleep. I’m not sure how long, but she must have slept at least an hour. I sat across from her looking through a couple of catalogs and checking email. Periodically, I was out of the room briefly while I tended to washing clothes and watering plants.

Kate woke up and started looking at the back yard. From her position on the sofa she can see the tall trees behind our house. As usual, she remarked on how beautiful they are. In most ways, she was very relaxed and seemed perfectly normal. Then she pointed to the back yard and said, “I used to walk all around this place when I was a child.”

As I have noted many times before, she also busied herself by pulling strands of her hair starting at the scalp and moving to the ends when the hair falls from her fingers. She has acquired what I see as a more problematic habit recently. She deliberately puts saliva on her fingers and wipes it on her forehead and, sometimes, her arms. She takes both of these habits very seriously and often wants my attention to watch what she is doing. She believes both of these habits do something good. I’ve never understood what.

Later as I was coming inside after watering plants, she looked at me and said, “You and I went to school together.” I said, “Yes, we did. Do you know the name of the school?” She said, “Let me think.” When she couldn’t guess, I said, “TCU.” She said, “That’s right.” As far as I could tell this was the first time during the day that it was obvious she didn’t remember who I was. Of course, she slips in and out between knowing and not knowing very quickly. She can mention her mother’s name in one moment and ask her name in the next.

She had brief scare late in the afternoon when she came out of our bathroom. I had left momentarily to take a few things to the washer. I heard her say, “Hey” a couple of times before I got to her. She was greatly relieved to see me. Since she has become so dependent on me to tell her what to do or where to go, she is often afraid when she doesn’t know where I am.

It was also a day when, most of the time, she didn’t recognize that she was in our house. That happens regularly in the morning and did yesterday. Throughout the day and into the evening, she said things that indicated she thought she was some place other than home. Interestingly, sometimes she wanted to “get out of here.” Other times she commented on what a nice place it was. As we left for lunch, she said, “I feel really sad leaving here.” I told her we would be coming back after lunch. She felt better. Later as we left for dinner, we had a rerun of the same experience.

All in all, it was a nice day despite her confusion. My own assessment of how things are going continues to depend on how she responds to that confusion. I am able to accept the decline in her memory and the confusion she experiences so long as she is happy. Much of the reading I have done on the topic of caregiving emphasizes the importance of accepting the person for whom you care as she is and focusing on making life as fulfilling as it can be. That makes life better for everyone. I believe it.

Insecure, Confused, but Happy and Appreciative

It would be quite an understatement to say that Kate is changing more now than at any other time since her diagnosis. Day before yesterday was a good example. Just as I have been adapting to her getting up late, she has surprised me several times over the past week. That morning she was up at 7:30. That’s at least three hours earlier than when I usually begin to wake her. It was also a day when she seemed comfortable with her surroundings. She acted like she knew I was her husband but didn’t. She was very dependent. She wanted my directions on almost every step from getting out of bed to where to go when I got her dressed. She was eager to have a shower, something I was happy about. She often resists.

We made it to Panera before 9:00 where she worked happily on her iPad an hour. Then I noticed that she was not working her puzzles, just sitting and looking a little discouraged. It was obvious she was frustrated. When I looked at what she had done, she had completed all but two pieces and couldn’t figure out where they went. I showed her, but she couldn’t understand. I put them in place for her. I felt sure that she was tired from having gotten up so early. It was early for lunch, but I decided it would be better than going home where she might nap and then have a hard time getting up.

She was quiet on the way to the restaurant. As I was helping her out of the car, she said, “I want to thank you. I feel better.” I told her I didn’t think I had done anything special but that I want to do anything I can to help her. She looked at me very seriously and said, “You do. You have no idea how much.” I am still not entirely sure what she was thinking about. It might have been the way I responded to her when she was frustrated over her puzzle. It could also have been that she imagined something as we were driving to the restaurant. As we walked to the entrance, she stopped as she always does to look and comment on the flowers just outside the door. When our server greeted her and asked her how she was doing, Kate said, “I’m doing much better now.” That’s exactly how it seemed. She was fine the rest of the day.

Eating early allowed us to get back with plenty of time before the sitter. I felt sure she would immediately head to the sofa for a nap. Instead she started working a puzzle on her iPad and continued until just before the sitter arrived. Then she decided to rest on the sofa. That’s where she was when Mary came. She greeted Mary with enthusiasm. When I told her I was leaving for my platelet donation, she smiled and said goodbye. She didn’t look at all unhappy to see me go.

When I returned, she was seated on the sofa looking at a photo book. She said, “We need you.” I took note of the fact that she said “we” and not “I.” Then Mary told me that she had not napped and explained that Kate had wanted to go outside. She stooped down to look at something in the yard or near a shrub, lost her balance, and couldn’t get up. Mary helped her but said it was difficult. I know what she means. I find that it is getting a bit challenging to get her into a sitting position when she is lying on the bed.

From what Mary told me, Kate had been a little upset and confused, but she was calm when I got home. The only problem then was that she was hot from being outside. I got out a small floor fan and used it to cool her off. Fifteen minutes later, she was fine again and ready for dinner.

At dinner we encountered something that is becoming a regular part of our dining experience now. She has difficulty knowing where she should sit. I always walk to her chair and pull it out from the table. I use my hand to direct her to the seat and say something like, “Sit right here.” Almost without exception, she interprets that as my chair and goes to the chair across the table from me. Sometimes I accept the chair she has chosen. When I have a specific reason for choosing a different chair, I may simply take her hand and guide her to the chair I selected. This, and the fact that she is very careful as she takes her seat, means that it takes longer for us to be seated than most hostesses are prepared for. Most of them seemed to be trained to remain at the table until you are seated. Of course, since we are regulars at all the places we visit, the hostesses are well aware of Kate’s diagnosis and are very understanding.

During dinner, Kate talked a good bit about what I do for her and how much she appreciated that. I told her our son was coming for a visit the next day. During our conversation, we spoke very naturally about our marriage. She commented on how happy we had been and then said, “What’s your name?” I told her, and she asked her own name. I am still amazed at how casually she does this. It’s the kind of experience that is both happy and sad. I am happy that she doesn’t seem frustrated, but it is also sad that she can’t remember. It makes me think about all the things she must not know if she is forgetting her own name and mine. What is it like to look around and not know who or what anything is? The good thing is that she still responds intuitively to people and things around her and still likes so many things. She continues to get pleasure out of life. That is something that may be hard for people without dementia to understand.

Later that night when we were in bed, she mentioned how good she feels when she is in Texas. I could tell by the way she said it that she thought she was in Texas at that moment. I didn’t say anything to dissuade her. She was happy. That’s a good way to end the day.

A Happy Moment This Morning

For the second day in a row Kate was up early. Yesterday she was ready to get up around 9:00. Today it was only 7:30. This was one of those mornings she clearly did not realize she was in her own home or my name or relationship. Perhaps because she didn’t know who I was, she wasn’t quite as eager to have my help. Several times when I tried to help, she said (in an unflattering way), “You think you know how to do everything.”

She started warming up to me as I helped her dress. Entering the family room provided the catalyst she needed to feel better about the day. I walked with her around the room as we looked at the flowers inside and out. I told her I wanted to show her something and walked her to a photo of our son when he was about eight. She always loves this picture. Today was no exception. When she asked who he was, I told her he was our son. She reacted to the word “our” and said, “No.” I said, “Well, he is your son.” That was better. I also showed her a picture of her father.

From there we went into the kitchen where I had set out her meds. After she had taken them, she noticed a card on the island and asked what it was. It was a card from her P.E.O. sisters. I had shown it to her last night, but she had forgotten. I read it to her along with the handwritten message inside. She was touched, and tears filled her eyes. She loved the beauty of the cover page that had three hearts on it as well as the tender message itself and asked if she could take it with us. I told her that would be fine. It was still a few minutes before we left, but she held the card in her hand and admired it. She asked several other times if she could take it with us.

Once we were in the car, she held it against her breast and said, “I’m going to keep this forever.” She kept talking about how beautiful it was. As we walked from the car to Panera, she held it carefully in her hand and told me once again how much she liked it. I said, “I love you.” She said, “You know what I think. You’re a good guy, and I think I’ll learn to love you too.”

We took our table at Panera, and  she carefully placed the card standing upright so that she could look at it while eating her muffin and working on her iPad. A short time later she picked up the card and looked at it again. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to read the note, I asked if she would like me to read it for her. She did. When I read “Dear Kate,” she said, “How did they know my name?” I explained that she had been a member for many years and had served as president. She had no memory of that at all.

Incidentally, the blueberry muffin was also a big hit this morning. It was like this was the first time she had every had one. Thirty minutes after finishing it, she wanted something else. I asked if another muffin would be all right. She beamed. Thus far, the morning has been just another Happy Moment of many that she and I experience. She remembers very little, but she is not “suffering.”

Happy Moments

As our lives continue to change, I want to make the point that our good times are not over. We continue to have our Happy Moments. Here are a couple from the past two days.

Thursday night we went to Casa Bella for Broadway night. Following several recent nights that didn’t go as well as they had in the past, I was a bit apprehensive as we prepared for the evening. I needn’t have been concerned. We had as enjoyable a night as we have ever had. The primary reason was the musical program itself. It featured music from three Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals, Oklahoma, Carousel, and South Pacific. Given the age of the audience, everyone was familiar with all the songs. Kate was engaged from the first note to the last.

In addition to the music, the social interaction around the table was much less intimidating for Kate than the other evenings that hadn’t gone so well. It was a table of eight, but all the couples were seated side by side. The conversation broke down naturally between the four at one end of the table and the four at the other end. Kate didn’t participate much in the conversation, but she seemed to feel a part of the group. The experience reinforced my belief that smaller groups are much easier for her than large ones. I was pleased with the way the evening went and hope that we will have similar experiences in the future.

Another Happy Moment occurred yesterday morning when she got up to go to the bathroom. It was one of those that can easily be taken as a sad moment, but my focus is on the happy side. As we returned to the bed, Kate said, “Where are we?” When I told her, she gave me a look of surprise and said, “How wonderful.” She lay down on the bed with a great sigh of relief. I don’t know where she thought she might have been. She probably had no idea, but knowing she was home must have given her a feeling of security. I felt good because she is normally doubtful when I tell her we are in our own home. We talked a few minutes about our home and the good times we have had here. When I left the room, I was happy knowing that she was happy.