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My Best Christmas Gift

As we approach the end of this Christmas season and the beginning of a new year, I am feeling grateful for many things. Most of all, I am grateful that Kate is still with me and that we continue to experience “Happy Moments” together. They come and go as she experiences different moods throughout the day, but I come to expect them at some point every day. Christmas Day was like that.

She was still asleep when the caregiver arrived at 11:00. After getting her up and ready for our Christmas buffet at 1:00, she was still quiet. She remained that way for the balance of the day. I call this her “neutral” time because she expresses little emotion.

I have also grown accustomed to very nice evenings with her after the caregiver leaves at 7:00. I wasn’t sure that night would be one of them, but I got in bed with her right after my shower and turned on a YouTube video of “Christmas in Vienna” from 2008. We attended that very concert. That led me to reminisce with Kate, and I extended that to include many other experiences we have had during the Christmas season as well as other special times throughout our marriage.

As I talked, Kate perked up and began to smile. This continued for almost an hour until it was time to call it a day. She never said a word during this time, but her facial expressions conveyed her happiness and her love. Most of the day hadn’t been that special, but it ended beautifully. Her smile, facial expressions, and holding her hand made all the difference. It was a beautiful way to end another Christmas Day together. That was my best Christmas gift.

Two nights later and again last night, we had very similar evenings. I know moments like these may seem trivial, but they mean the world to me at this stage of her Alzheimer’s. They are part of why I say Kate is my greatest source of stress relief.

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An Extraordinary Day

Once in a while, I highlight unusually positive experiences that I call “Happy Moments.” I use the word “moments” to emphasize that the experience is not usually long-lasting although it can occur over several hours.

On a typical day, Kate doesn’t express much emotion until the afternoon. She rarely says a word until after 2:00. This past Friday was very different. It began about eight o’clock in the morning and lasted until she fell asleep around 8:30 that night. It was a day filled with “Happy Moments.”

Kate generally sleeps late. Sometimes, she is asleep when the caregiver arrives at 11:00. Recently, however, she has waked up as early as 7:00. At 8:15 Friday morning, I checked on her. As I approached the bed, I could see that her eyes were open. I have a little routine that I follow each day when I see that she is awake. I say, “I think I see Kate. Yes, it is Kate. She’s my Texas gal. I’m so glad to see you.” Then I remind her that we started dating in our senior year of college, fell in love, and became engaged a year later. I go on to tell her that we’ve been married sixty years, and have two children, and five grandchildren.

Sometimes, but not always, she smiles. That day she smiled and started talking. She has aphasia, so I couldn’t understand much of what she said, but, as usual, I tried to play the role of facilitator saying things like, “Really?” “Tell me more.” “That’s interesting.” From that point, I got beside her in bed, and we began to talk. She dosed a few times, but we talked on and off until the caregiver arrived at 11:00.

A new person was filling in for our usual caregiver, so I wasn’t sure how Kate might respond to her, but she was fine as I left for lunch. While I was gone, the caregiver walked Kate around the hallways in her wheelchair and stopped to visit with residents in a couple of places. I learned later that she had been smiling and talking with other residents who had stopped to say hello.

Friday afternoon I had coffee with a longtime friend. When I arrived home, I went directly to the café where the caregiver had taken Kate for ice cream. I walked up behind Kate. As I looked around to see her face, she gave me a big smile. That happens frequently but not always. When it does, it warms my heart.

From there, we went to dinner in the community dining room where she always receives a lot of attention from the staff and other residents. She remained cheerful and talkative the entire meal. I can’t tell how long moments like these will last, and this time I was in for a surprise. She remained the way she had been all day until I turned out the lights around 8:30. It was an extraordinary day, unlike any I have seen before. I treasure moments like these.

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Managing Stress

Because Kate and I have lived joyfully while “Living with Alzheimer’s, one might think that stress is not an issue for me. That would be wrong. The only time I have been relatively free of stress was in the first few years after her diagnosis. At that time, the key stressor was juggling my responsibilities between Kate and my dad who was in skilled nursing. Since then, stress has gradually increased.

Since Kate’s diagnosis 12 ½ years ago, I’ve learned a number of things about stress and how to deal with it. One of those is that it is impossible to avoid. It’s a natural part of caring for someone with dementia. The best I can do is to find ways to manage it.

In the early days, that was easy. Shortly after Kate’s diagnosis, we decided that we would enjoy life and each other for as long as possible. That simple decision led to our binging on the things we had enjoyed throughout our marriage – movies, theater, musical events, eating out, and travel. Pleasure was a central part of our lives and helped both of us minimize stress.

As Kate’s Alzheimer’s progressed, I needed to spend more time with her and felt less comfortable leaving her alone. At the same time, stress was increasing. That led to my engaging in-home care three years after her diagnosis. For a little more than three years, we had help four hours a day for three days a week. That gave me time to run errands and get to the YMCA for exercise.

The past two and a half years, she has required total care. That resulted in my increasing our in-home care to eight hours a day seven days a week. Despite that, my responsibilities increased significantly, and that was accompanied by more stress. Fortunately, I’ve been able to manage it pretty well,

I put a high priority on a healthy lifestyle. Except for my days in graduate school and the first few years I taught, my adult life has involved exercise. Since Kate’s diagnosis, I have needed it more. I used to work out at the YMCA three mornings a week. I stopped when I felt I could no longer leave Kate alone in the morning. That is when I took up walking every day. After our move to a life plan retirement community, I replaced walking for workouts in our wellness center downstairs. I get up between 4:30 and 5:00 five days a week and do stretching exercises for 25-30 minutes before going to the wellness center. I ride the seated elliptical for fifty minutes averaging a little over eight miles a day.

I have also taken up deep breathing. I do that periodically each day including the time I am exercising. I’ve made a number of other lifestyle changes that are helpful. One of those is to avoid rushing. I realized that I was rushing to get to the gym as well as going about my daily household chores like fixing breakfast, washing, folding, and putting away laundry. That doesn’t make much sense now that I am retired. I deliberately began to slow down as I go about my daily routine. In addition, I take breaks during the day and have reduced my emailing, activity on social media, and writing blog posts  

I pay attention to my diet. I maintain a high-protein, low-carb diet with an abundance of fish, vegetables, and recently, nuts and fruit. Sleep is also important to me. Fortunately, Kate sleeps through the night. That enables me to get between 7 and 7 ½ hours sleep.

By far the most effective way I have found to deal with stress is to be as socially active as I can. I do this in a variety of ways.

I follow a daily schedule that includes contact with other people than Kate and our caregivers. That is a lot easier now that we are in a retirement community. Three days a week, I eat lunch in a café downstairs. I don’t think I have eaten alone more than once or twice since we moved here. The other four days of the week I eat off the grounds. One of those days is with my Rotary club. The other three days, I eat alone; however, I eat in restaurants where I have eaten for several years and know some of the staff, and I frequently run into friends.

Our afternoon and evening routine includes 30-40 minutes at a café on the grounds where Kate has ice cream. It is also a time to run into other residents, and most of them stop to chat for a few minutes. In addition, we eat dinner in the dining room five nights a week and in a café downstairs the other two nights. These provide additional opportunities for Kate and me to engage in additional contact with residents and staff. That is good for both of us.

Part of my weekly routine is getting together with friends for coffee. Every Friday, I meet a friend who worked for me ten years before using his computer skills to launch out on his own. We have kept up ever since he left. I meet with another group every Saturday. All three were neighbors before our move two and a half years ago. One of them recently moved to our retirement community.

I stay in contact by phone and/or email with longtime friends and family. This includes my undergraduate sociology professor and mentor who turns 101 in September. I also stay in touch with four other college friends as well as three grammar school friends.

I maintain relationships with several organizations with which I have been involved for many years. Those include the United Way, Rotary, our church, our local symphony orchestra, and a local health foundation.

Apart from these social connections, I participate in three different caregiver support groups. One of those is a group for husbands taking care of their wives with dementia. Another is a mixed group of husbands and wives who are caring for a spouse with dementia. The third group is a group of husbands and wives caring for spouses with any illness that requires regular care. The first group meets twice a month. The other two meet once a month.

Of course, the most important stress-relieving relationship I have is with Kate. Some readers may be surprised that I can say that at this late stage of her Alzheimer’s. To be sure, we don’t relate in many of the ways we could before Alzheimer’s entered our lives, but not a day goes by without our having “Happy Moments.” They serve as the best stress reducer I can find. I savor every “Happy Moment” I have with her. I can’t eliminate stress, but I have a lot of things that help me manage it as effectively as possible. I am grateful.

Addendum

I thought I had finished this post yesterday morning, but since then I have had three different experiences I would like to add. Each one involves a “Happy Moment” with Kate. The first occurred yesterday just before leaving for lunch. She was smiling, and I told her what a beautiful smile she has. Then I said, “And you are beautiful. I love you.” The expression on her face changed immediately as she almost broke into tears. I can’t say precisely what that meant, but to me, it was very touching to see her so moved.

The second one occurred after I got home. I walked over to her and kneeled beside her chair. I told her how happy I was to see her and how much I missed her while I was gone. She gave me a smile and whispered, “I love you.” That is a rare event. More typically, she expresses her feelings with her facial expressions as she did before I left.

The third occurred this morning. She was awake early and in a cheerful mood and talking. That doesn’t happen very often. She is usually very subdued and rarely speaks until the afternoon. On days like today, I sit up in bed beside her and enjoy being with her. We had a good conversation even though I couldn’t understand a word she said. The important thing was that we were connecting. It was a very special moment.

Each of these is a good example of the kinds of “Happy Moments” we experience on a daily basis. They don’t happen all day, but they occur often enough that they boost my spirits knowing that our relationship still means a lot to both of us.

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Ups and Downs Over the Past 10 Days

In most of my posts, I report on our positive experiences. That’s because we don’t really have many negative ones to report; however, we had two unpleasant surprises recently. A week ago Thursday she woke up early and was fine. I spent some time with her listening to music and chatting with her. We were quiet for a few minutes, and then she seemed to be worried. That increased to agitation. It reminded me of delusions she periodically experienced several years ago. During those times, she was bothered or concerned but never to the degree I noticed that morning.

She felt hot and her skin was clammy, so I took her temperature. It was normal. Then I took her blood pressure. It was 194/130. Her pulse was 96. These are all far above her normal readings. I called her doctor whose office is next door to our building. He and his nurse came over right away. They checked her blood pressure, and it had gone down. She seemed more relaxed. They were with us about 15 minutes, and her blood pressure continued to go down, and she seemed fine. We concluded she must have had a delusion that frightened her.

Two days later, she had a similar experience. Her blood pressure was 193/126. About 20 minutes later, it dropped to 123/76. We haven’t had any other such experiences since then, and I hope this doesn’t become a new part of our lives.

Those two experiences were followed by at least three very good days. On each occasion, she woke up early and was awake for a good bit of the morning before the caregiver arrived. During the afternoons, she was more cheerful than normal and one of those days, she was very talkative. She spoke to people we saw while having our afternoon ice cream as well as at dinner that evening.

When she has happy days like these, I am happy too, so it was a great week for both of us. Her behavior continues a trend that has been taking place for 8-10 months. Over that time, she has felt more at ease. That matters a lot. When she is at ease, it is easier for her to smile and talk.

Yesterday was not a good day for her. She seemed to be fine in the morning, but her mood had changed by the time I returned from lunch. She smiled briefly when I returned, but she didn’t appear to be happy after that. It was only at dinner that she began to change. When she spoke to two guests, the caregiver and I were amazed because she hadn’t been very responsive all day.

As often happens, we had a good evening together. I have no idea what made such a difference during the afternoon.

I drafted most of this post over the weekend, but I am glad to report that this morning she awoke in a cheerful mood with lots of smiles. She hasn’t talked, but she has smiled and laughed at things I have said to her. We’re off to a good start. Right now, I am sitting up beside her in bed as I close this post. She is smiling and talking. I can’t understand what she is saying, but I enjoy her Happy Moments. It looks like we could be in for another good day.

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Our Anniversary Celebration

One of the things I’ve learned about “Living with Alzheimer’s” is that people’s experiences can be quite different; however, there is at least one thing that all or most dementia caregivers experience: unpredictability. One minute Kate is smiling cheerfully. The next she is withdrawn.

Because of that, I am never sure how she will react to a situation in which I would love for her to smile or just hear her say a word or two. With that in mind, I prepared something special for our 60th anniversary last week. I decided to take her out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Casa Bella. We hadn’t been there since November 2020. In fact, we hadn’t been out anywhere in more than two and a half years. Kate was beginning to lose her mobility before that, and she was in bed for so long with Covid that she completely lost it. Since then we have only been able to move her with a lift to get her in and out of her bed and into her wheelchair. Thus, going out to eat requires a vehicle that is wheelchair accessible.

Getting transportation was easy. I simply called the agency that provides in-home care for our retirement community, but I had other concerns as well. I didn’t want to put her in a crowded restaurant, so I made reservations for Tuesday night after Memorial Day when I thought it was less likely to be busy than later in the week. I called the owner of the restaurant and made reservations for 5:00 pm. That’s when they open for dinner. At the same time, I arranged a table in the room where we had often eaten in the past. I also asked our caregiver to stay an hour or two later than usual.

The only remaining concern I had was Kate’s mood. I wanted the experience to be as joyful as it had been on our previous visits there, but I knew there was no way to predict how she would feel or react. Nor was there any way I could ensure that she was in a cheerful mood. As it turned out, everything worked out beautifully.

The day began on a positive note. Kate slept late that morning. She was still asleep when the caregiver arrived at 11:00. I was happy about that because she is sometimes worn out later in the day after waking early.

When I arrived home from lunch, she was resting in her recliner as usual. She smiled when I approached her. I spoke to her for a few minutes letting her know how happy I was to see her. I turned on some “Sing-Along-for-Seniors” music on YouTube. She responded well to that. I sang, but she didn’t. Nonetheless, her smiles and facial expressions showed that she was enjoying herself.

We also had a good experience when we went out for ice cream. She smiled much of that time and responded a little to those who spoke to her – at least more than she usually does. Then we came back to the apartment where we met the driver who would take us to dinner.

We arrived as they opened right at 5:00 pm. The owners were not there, but they had prepared the staff for our arrival. They greeted us warmly and got us settled at our table. Kate and I as well as our caregiver (who had never been there before) enjoyed every minute.

Not long after we were seated, the owner arrived and came directly to our table. We had a nice visit with her. Although I can’t remember what she said, I was pleased that Kate responded audibly to something she said. A little later, her husband also dropped by to say hello. We had a good dinner, but the real enjoyment was being back in a place where we had eaten many meals over a period of fifty years. The bonus was that Kate enjoyed herself the entire time. That made for a very special sixtieth anniversary. I could not have predicted that the day would go so well. I’m already thinking about the possibility of doing this again.

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A Very Special Day

Kate continues to have many “Happy Moments.” There is a general pattern to her days. She usually sleeps a good bit until 11:00 when the caregiver arrives. For the past six months or so, however, she has been waking up early (before 8:00 or 9:00). She doesn’t often remain awake. She doses off and on and rarely speaks before the afternoon.

Her best part of the day comes after 2:00. Sometimes it doesn’t start until we have ice cream at 3:30 or during dinner. Our evenings after the caregiver leaves are usually good “together times” for us although she is sometimes tired and goes to sleep early.

The one thing I can count on is that she never seems to have what I would call a bad day. She does, however, have days when she doesn’t display much cheerfulness. They are usually days when she is tired, and they typically come after a day when she has been awake a lot and very cheerful. Friday was one of her cheerful days. It started in the morning and continued most of the day and evening before going to sleep.

She was awake around 8:45 that day and was more alert than usual. She greeted me with a big smile and responded audibly to me. A few of her words were understandable. When moments like these occur, I usually drop whatever I am doing and get in bed beside her, and that’s what I did this time.

The night before I had received a text from the facilitator of a support group in which I participate twice a month. He reminded me of yesterday’s meeting at 9:30. I told him I would attend via Zoom. When I saw that Kate was in such a good mood, I sent him a text indicating I wouldn’t be there.

That was a wise decision. It got the day off to a very good start. Except for a short time during which I got her meds, something to drink, and fixed some homemade applesauce for her (my morning routine for her), we just enjoyed being together. She was very talkative for the first hour. Then she began to relax. About 30-40 minutes before the caregiver arrived, she went back to sleep, but we had had a grand morning.

I went downstairs to lunch while the caregiver fed Kate. I returned for a few minutes after lunch and found that her cheerfulness had vanished. I left to have coffee with a longtime friend, a Friday ritual of mine. When I returned, she heard me when I opened the door and began to smile. I discovered that her cheerfulness had returned as well. The caregiver told me that she talked with a number of residents and staff when they went for ice cream.

She continued to be cheerful and talkative during dinner and afterward. As we were leaving the dining room, several residents talked to her, and she smiled and responded audibly as well.

After getting her to bed and the caregiver left, we enjoyed our time together until we called it a night. It had been an exceptional day. Who would have guessed we might experience this kind of day so late in her Alzheimer’s? Not I, but I am enjoying “Happy Moments” like these to the fullest.

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A Week of Happy Moments

It’s been more than a month since my last post. That’s because I’ve been more occupied with things than usual. The most significant was an auto accident in January that resulted in my having to buy another car. I couldn’t locate the title of the old car and needed it to transfer the title to our insurance company. As so often happens, I ran into some complications that extended the amount of time I thought would be required. On top of that, my routine responsibilities have required more of me in recent weeks, as I find myself more involved in activities within our residential community.

The additional stress this has brought has been countered by Kate’s improvement over the past year. I have come to expect and be rewarded with “Happy Moments” every day, and we have had an abundance of those during the past week.

The first came at dinner last Sunday night. She was very responsive to almost everyone who spoke to her. I was particularly pleased when she replied to another resident who speaks to her almost every day. Each time she eagerly awaits a response, but Kate rarely replies. This time she responded beautifully. Not everything Kate said was understandable, but she did respond. Before we left the dining room, Kate spoke to several other residents as well. Everyone was as surprised and delighted as I was.

We enjoyed another Happy Moment Monday night. She was in a very good mood that afternoon. It continued after her shower and as we prepared her for bed. Kate was very talkative after the caregiver left, and I got in bed beside her. It was the happiest moment of the day. We talked for almost an hour before I decided to take my shower. I felt uncomfortable about leaving while we were both having such a good time, but I did it anyway. By the time I got out of the shower, her mood had changed. She was no longer interested in conversation, but we had a wonderful time before it ended.

During the balance of the week, Kate has been quiet in the morning and early afternoon but more lively and cheerful for the remainder of the day. I’m still unable to predict her behavior from one moment to the next; however, I have come to count on Happy Moments at some point in every day. That keeps me upbeat, and I am grateful.

Addendum: March 9, 2023

The day after my previous post was another day punctuated with Happy Moments. Kate was awake early (8:15 am) and very cheerful. That is very unusual for her. She would typically awaken after 10:00 and be in a more neutral mood. I went through my usual routine in which I remind her that we met in college, fell in love, married, have two children and that we’ll have our sixtieth wedding anniversary in May. Normally, she wouldn’t react at all. Sometimes she smiles. This time she laughed.

She soon went back to sleep but was beginning to wake up at 11:00 when the caregiver arrived. She regained her cheerful mood and said a few words to the caregiver while helping Kate get dressed. At one point, she said, “I love you” to the caregiver.

She was quiet once we got her into her chair for breakfast. That lasted the entire time while I attended my weekly Rotary meeting. When I returned, she displayed little or no interest in me. That is unusual but does happen once in a while.

It wasn’t until we were having ice cream that she began to regain her cheerfulness. That increased at dinner. She smiled a lot and talked to our caregiver and to a couple of the food staff. Her best moments of the day occurred during and after her shower that evening. She was talkative and laughed about a number of things. That mood continued after the caregiver left and until she fell asleep around 8:30.

Yesterday and again this morning, she was awake early and happy. I can’t predict what the day will be like, but the experience of the past few weeks makes me optimistic that she will have another good day.

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A Perfect Day

I admit that I am a “glass-is-half-full” kind of person, and at least one other member of our family is the same way. That would be one of our grandsons who following our birthday dinner for Kate said, “That’s the best meal I’ve ever had.” He had a chicken sandwich. I can’t say that about any chicken sandwich I’ve ever eaten, but yesterday I enjoyed what I consider a perfect day.

I was the luncheon speaker at our Rotary club. My subject was what our lives are like in the last stage of Alzheimer’s. I’ve spoken to a lot of groups over the years, but I take each one seriously in my preparations. Over the past few weeks, I’ve thought about what I wanted to say and coupled that with notes as well as a final draft of my remarks. I set aside time yesterday morning to rehearse as well as relax before my presentation. I figured that wouldn’t be a problem because Kate generally sleeps until the time (or near the time) that our caregiver arrives.

Yesterday morning was different. Kate was awake before 8:00. Not only that, but she was in a cheerful mood. When that happens, I take advantage of it.  Instead of working on my presentation, I got in bed beside her and turned on some YouTube music. As I have done on a number of other occasions, I selected a variety of sing-along music for Seniors. We sang with the music until the caregiver arrived at 11:00.  We ended the morning on a high note that was far more important than any last-minute rehearsing.

As it turned out, the presentation was well-received. I didn’t include everything I intended, but my remarks came across as a very open and personal account of our lives. That is what I wanted most, and the audience response suggested that it was the right thing.

When I returned home, I wondered if Kate’s mood would have remained the same. I was pleased to discover that she had. In fact, we had an especially good time at the café where we got ice cream as well as during dinner. It continued for at least an hour after the caregiver left at 7 when Kate was tired and fell asleep.

It had been a remarkable day. We’ve had very few days that good in more than two years. For me, it was a perfect day, and I think Kate would agree.

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“It’s a Wonderful Life”

I often run into people who ask how Kate is doing. Frequently, that is followed by asking me how I’m doing. I’m on a high right now. As many other caregivers say about their loved ones, “When Kate is happy, I’m happy,” and she’s been happy much more over the past few months. She’s been unusually happy and talkative for at least three of the past five days.

Not every moment in a day is a “Happy Moment.” That doesn’t mean that the rest of the moments are sad. In fact, she never has a sad day. When she is not happy, she seems intimidated or unsure about how she should act or what she should say. Other times, her emotional expressions are quite neutral.

Her Happy Moments are often related to the people around her and what is going on, but it is common for her to sit quietly and just smile as she looks around the room. It makes me wonder what she sees or what she is thinking that makes her so happy. When I ask, I never get an answer, but it’s good to see her happy.

It’s not just her feeling happy that affects me. It’s also what she says or does when she is happy. She has been talking more with her caregiver. I love observing their conversations. This caregiver is the only one she has responded to in this way during the entire five years we have had in-home care. As noted in earlier posts, I believe one reason for this is Kate’s general adaption to our new home in a retirement community as well as recovering from her stroke; however, I give this particular caregiver equal credit. She has made a difference in both of our lives.

The success she has had with Kate is her personality. She is kind and caring. She’s a bit “low-key” but talkative and gets along well with other residents and staff. She is not intimidating, and that makes it easy for Kate to connect with her.

Although Kate is more cheerful and talkative, there is one general pattern that remains. She is quietest in the morning. She still rarely says anything before lunch. It can be as late as 3:30 in the afternoon when we go for ice cream and sometimes as late as dinner before she is ready for any social engagement. Kate occasionally breaks this pattern and is awake and smiling early in the morning and maintains her good spirits the entire day and evening.

My being upbeat relates to the fact that, recently, she has been cheerful almost every afternoon and evening. The only difference is when the cheerfulness begins.

Our evenings continue to be our best time together. I wouldn’t describe them as “cheerful.” They are simply times when each of us is completely at ease. Once in a while, she is quite talkative. Most of the time, she is not. She is just winding down as she gets ready to go to sleep. It’s the same way for me. It is clearly the most relaxing time of our day, and it’s made even better by sharing this quiet time together – always with music. At this time of the year, it seems appropriate to say, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

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“Focus on the Person, Not the Dementia”

I continue to believe that the most profound information I’ve learned during Kate’s journey with Alzheimer’s came from The Dementia Handbook by Judy Cornish. She emphasizes that “all is not lost with dementia” and points out that while rational thought is lost, people with dementia continue to experience the world through their senses. That enables them to appreciate and enjoy many pleasures of life.

I have made that an essential piece of knowledge in my care for Kate, and it has provided years of joy while living with Alzheimer’s. The quote in the title above comes from one of Cornish’s posts on Twitter. It caught my attention as useful advice, and I’ve discovered numerous ways to apply it. The most typical example is when I return to the apartment after lunch or running errands.

In almost every case, I find Kate sitting quietly in her recliner with her eyes closed while the caregiver sits across from her looking at something on her phone. When I come through the door, I say, “Hello, I’m home!” She often responds with a greeting of her own and gives me a smile as I rest on my knees beside her. I tell her how glad I am to see her. She generally beams. Her whole mood changes in those few moments. It just took focusing on her and conveying how important she is to me.

Here are other examples of how it worked with Kate over the past few days.

Kate’s mornings have always been the most troublesome part of the day. Not all of them are that way, but she usually gets a slow start. That means she doesn’t talk much, and, frequently, she doesn’t want me to talk either. Sunday morning was one of those. She appeared to be bothered by something.

I went through my normal routine. I tell her how glad I am to see her and how special she is to me. On good days, that’s a real ice breaker. On other days, like Sunday, it falls flat.

I didn’t push her. I know from experience that doesn’t work. I got her morning meds and gave her something to drink. That went well. Then I played her Love Changes Everything album and got in bed beside her. I didn’t say anything for a good while and then commented on how much I liked the music. Then I told her I also liked being with her. She smiled, the first affirmation I had received that morning. She was coming around.

That led to a very nice conversation before she drifted off to sleep. She was half asleep when the caregiver arrived at noon. Sometimes that makes it easier to get her dressed and up for the day. This was not one of those times. She protested more than she has in several months.

I can’t be sure, but this may have been related to the fact that the caregiver is new. She began in January, and Kate hasn’t reached a comfort level with her. There are two problems as I see it. First, she doesn’t have as much experience as our other caregivers. Second, she is very quiet. She’s been here fewer than ten times, but she hasn’t said much to me or to Kate except when I have asked direct questions. In addition, she speaks softly and wears a mask, so Kate and I usually have to ask her to repeat herself before we know what she has said.

Given Kate’s mood, I felt that it was better that I stay home instead of going out for lunch. In fact, I remained at home the entire time the caregiver was here. That led to some good things because Kate wasn’t getting any attention from the caregiver and looked bored. I took a seat beside her while she was in her recliner and read The Velveteen Rabbit to her. She perked up right away. I followed that by reading about one of her grandfathers from one of her photobooks.

Things were going well, and I suggested we go for ice cream. While we were out, she had a delusion and hallucinations that disturbed her. Her mood shifted. We went back to the apartment. I spent some time with her while holding her hand and talking to her in a comforting way. I assured her that I would take care of several specific things that troubled her. She became less worried, but she wasn’t as cheerful as she often is at this time of day. I wondered how things would go at dinner. That is usually a good time for her, and it went well except that she wasn’t as talkative as usual.

The day picked up after the caregiver left, and Kate was in bed. She was very relaxed and happy. We talked a little about how comfortable we felt when it was just the two of us. I treasure times like that. She was tired and slept for an hour while I watched one of the NFL playoff games.

Our daughter called as she was waking, and we talked for almost forty-five minutes. Kate often has trouble with phone calls but did very well with this one. It was a beautiful end to a day of ups and downs.

It was a day that reinforced how the personal touch makes a difference in the way Kate feels. It doesn’t prevent delusions, hallucinations, or any of the other typical signs of Alzheimer’s, but it goes a long way toward relieving her anxiety or elevating her mood. That’s exactly what happened that day. Now, let’s look at another example that involves a caregiver.

One of my problems with our in-home care is that Kate doesn’t get this same kind of attention from any of her caregivers. I have accepted the fact that their training focuses heavily on things like bathing patients, dressing them, and using a lift to transfer them from bed to chair and back again along with a host of related things. Everything they do is important, and I don’t have the skill to do the things they do. On the other hand, they tend to focus on their basic skills and neglect treating Kate as a person.

That is why I feel that focusing on her as a person is my primary responsibility. As her husband, I’m in the best position to do this. I love her, and I do my best to express that love in every way that I can.

Having said that, we had an experience with a new caregiver on Monday that offers another example of the importance of having a personal connection with Kate. It also encouraged me to discover a caregiver who has the personality and skill to give Kate the attention she needs.

The new caregiver came to us for the first time one day last week. The agency had alerted me that she had not had much experience. I found that to be true, but she was more personable than most of the others, and I felt comfortable leaving for lunch. Before leaving, I put on a playlist of music I thought Kate would enjoy. I also explained to the caregiver that music had been very important to us. She told me it was important to her as well. She is active in a church choir and has written and recorded a few songs.

When I returned to the apartment, she was sitting in a chair beside Kate and the two of them had been singing along with a Peter, Paul, and Mary album. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to see Kate singing with her. To the best of my knowledge, that has never happened with another caregiver. It made a big impression on me, and I was delighted when she was back on Monday.

That experience was a good one as well. This time they were in a conversation when I returned from lunch. I spent a little time checking email, and they continued to talk. It was truly remarkable and another great example of the difference it makes when someone is able to “Focus on the person, not the dementia.”