Our Lives After Kate’s Diagnosis

Part 5: Major Changes

Apart from the changes in our lives that I mentioned in my previous post, there have been two other changes that have had a greater impact on us. They both involved COVID. Before it came onto the scene around March 2020, our lives were already shrinking, but we had no idea how the Pandemic would affect our lives.

Prior to Pandemic, we spent an hour or hour and a half every morning at Panera and about the same amount of time at the café at Barnes and Noble every afternoon. Coupled with eating out for lunch and dinner, we were away from home a large part of every day.

COVID brought that to a halt. Suddenly, we were trapped in our home without the social contact we had enjoyed for so long, but that wasn’t all the damage COVID left for us. The biggest hit occurred when Kate and I had COVID almost eight months later when it seemed safer to get out. My case was mild and ended quickly, but she was hospitalized for eight days. That changed her life forever. It wasn’t COVID alone that hurt us. The whole experience was traumatizing for her.

She was frightened by the ambulance attendants who were naturally strangers to her. As they took her out the front door to the ambulance, she was screaming, “Help me! Help me! Somebody help me!. To her, it must have seemed as though she were being kidnapped. I was the only one she knew, but the hospital did not allow visitors at the time.

She was without me for eight days. She didn’t know anything about COVID or that she was sick. All she knew was that strangers had taken her out of comfort zone, and in the hospital they were doing things she didn’t understand and didn’t like. The impact on her was so great that she didn’t want to be touched when she got home, and we had to do the same kind of things they had done in the hospital to take care of her daily needs.

Before COVID and her hospitalization, Kate was beginning to lose her mobility and was in the early stage of aphasia. COVID made them a permanent part of her life. For five months, we began to adapt to a new world in our home. Then we moved to Still Hopes Episcopal Retirement Community where we live today. We have established a new routine that is significantly more restricted than before, but we are living joyfully despite the combination of Alzheimer’s, COVID, and a stroke Kate experienced a year after our move.

Music as Therapy


As I implied in my previous post, at first, music was just a form of entertainment for us, but within the first year, it became therapeutic as well. Kate had a panic attack when I rushed her while we were getting ready for a symphony concert. I tried to calm her, but she was still uneasy when we left home.

After we got in the car, I put on a CD of the Brahms Violin Concerto. I advanced it to the Second Movement which is very soothing and lasts about ten minutes. Before we arrived at the concert, she was just fine. Since then, we have had a number of other occasions like this.

One of those occurred after she woke up from an afternoon nap. She was disturbed about something. As I had done before, I tried to calm her, but that didn’t work. Then I started singing a children’s song, and she joined me. That encouraged me to take my phone out of my pocket and search for children’s songs. I downloaded an album with one hundred of them. We sang for another thirty minutes which left us with a happy ending.

Music has been a very helpful tool in my “Caregivers Toolbox”. Once in a while, she still has similar episodes, usually during the night. I have found that “Edelweiss” from The Sound of Music works well. I start out by humming or singing. Then I pick up my phone and play it on my audio system.

There are also times when she just seems to need a boost. Sometimes I use the album of children’s songs mentioned above. Another one I depend on is an album by the Susquehanna Chorale, a choral group we heard one summer at Chautauqua. It has a number of songs that we both enjoy, “Shenandoah”, “Danny Boy”, “Loch Lomond”, “Swing Low Sweet Chariot”, and “Deep River”. We carry music wherever we go. One never knows when it might be needed.

Our First Steps While Living with Alzheimer’s


Kate’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis was the most serious problem we had faced in our marriage, and it immediately changed my priorities about life. Spending as much time as possible with her jumped to the top of the stack. That sticks with me to the present time. We started having lunch and spending the afternoon together every day. We had always enjoyed movies and began attending them once a week.

Throughout our marriage, we had attended many musical and theatrical events. That was a natural place for us to begin as we sought to “enjoy life and each other”. We were already subscribers to the concerts of our local symphony orchestra and the local community theaters. To that, we added periodic trips to other cities within a two-hour drive of our home in Columbia. Wherever we traveled, we often attended musical and theatrical events.

We stayed busy with these activities, and, as we had hoped, we enjoyed life and each other. And there was much more to come.

My Thoughts on Giving Advice

In two recent posts, I discussed some of the many reasons that Kate and I have lived well while “Living with Alzheimer’s.” Many of them were unrelated to anything specific we have intentionally done. Some of them, however, were deliberate choices we made that turned out to be very beneficial. As a result, some people might think I would jump at the chance to give advice to others, but such is not the case. Let me explain.

Long before Kate’s diagnosis, I learned that many caregivers are annoyed by the advice they receive from friends and family. That occurs most often because the person giving the advice doesn’t fully understand the situation of the person receiving it. There’s a saying that is common among the community of dementia caregivers. “If you’ve had one experience with dementia, you’ve had one experience with dementia.” The point is that each case of dementia has its own unique characteristics; therefore, what works in one situation may not work in another.

When people give advice, they usually believe that what worked for them will work for others. They do this without fully understanding that the circumstances of the person receiving the advice may be (and often is) quite different from their own.

My earliest personal encounter with this occurred after we brought Kate’s mother into our home with 24/7 in-home care. Kate was annoyed when an acquaintance periodically encouraged her to put her mother in a skilled nursing facility. That might have been a good suggestion for some people, but not for us. For a variety of reasons, we believed that in-home care was the best option for her mother and for us. I still believe that. Since then, I’ve heard other caregivers talk about their irritation with similar unwanted advice.

As a result, I try to avoid giving advice. There is one notable exception. That is based on what I learned from Judy Cornish, author of Dementia Handbook and Dementia with Dignity. Her approach to dementia caregiving emphasizes an important distinction between rational and intuitive thought. In her view, all is not lost with dementia. Although people with dementia lose their rational thought, they retain their intuitive thought which relies on direct experience with the world via our senses.

That means that even as memory declines, people with dementia can continue to enjoy many aspects of life. For Kate and me, that has involved music, movies, theater, dining out, and social connections. With Kate at late-stage Alzheimer’s, we can’t pursue these interests in the same way that we did during earlier stages. For example, she lost the ability to use her computer which allowed her to connect with family and friends and work on photobooks of family photos. She also lost her ability to use her iPad. She had used it to work jigsaw puzzles for hours a day. We gave up travel. We gave up eating out. As I often say, our world today is much smaller than it used to be, but we can still enjoy life and each other. That’s because we continue to find activities that she can appreciate via her intuitive thought. That includes music which has been an important source of entertainment throughout our marriage.

My primary advice to others who confront the diagnosis of dementia is to accept the fact that rational thinking will become weaker and weaker and focus on what loved ones with dementia can do and appreciate. When you think about it, most of the things we enjoy, whether we have dementia or not, relate to intuitive not rational thought. We don’t derive most of our pleasure from our knowledge of things like the names of current political figures or how to multiply or divide 1,396 by 3. Most of our pleasure comes from eating our favorite foods, listening to music, watching movies or TV, time with good friends, etc. A person with dementia can enjoy all of these things even years after their diagnosis.

I’d like to emphasize one other thing that people with dementia can appreciate via their intuitive thought, and that is LOVE. Love can play a role in lifting anyone’s spirits, but it can be especially helpful with people who have dementia. Their loss of rational thought can easily lead to a lower sense of self-worth. People respond differently to them because they are often unsure of what to do or say. The result is that people with dementia are often ignored, and their sense of self-worth is weakened.

For that reason, I believe caregivers should do everything they can to make sure their loved ones know that they are loved – that they matter. This is easier said than done. Caregivers often find themselves so occupied by routine responsibilities of caregiving (that their own rational thought tells them are important) that they overlook the most important thing they can do – making loved ones feel they are loved.

One reason I feel comfortable giving this advice is that it does not require that other caregivers do the same things that Kate and I have done. When we decided to enjoy life and each other for as long as we were able, we looked to things that had always given us pleasure – music, movies, theater, eating out, travel, and time with friends and family. We were lucky that both of us enjoyed all of these things. That doesn’t happen with every couple, but I do hope that other couples and families might be able to find their own ways to enjoy life and each other. It is certainly worth trying.

Care for the Caregiver

In my recent posts, I’ve mentioned a number of reasons Kate and I have been able to live well while “Living with Alzheimer’s.” One that I overlooked is how much support I have received as a caregiver. I find that people are especially sensitive to the load carried by dementia caregivers and their need for help.

Three years after Kate’s diagnosis, I acknowledged her Alzheimer’s publicly. Since then, I’ve received an abundance of support from family, friends, and strangers. Everywhere I go people ask how we are doing and listen with interest as I tell them. Sometimes, people do something special to brighten our/my day. On several occasions when Kate was able to get out, a stranger bought our lunch. One couple (who are far from strangers anymore) buys my lunch almost every time they see me. That’s about twice a month. Only recently, have they let me buy their lunch occasionally. This same couple has given us several books. One contains all of Norman Rockwell’s paintings from the Saturday Evening Post. They have also given Kate several nice pieces of jewelry that the husband had given to his wife over their 61-year marriage.

This past week I received two very special gifts from friends. Coincidentally, each was a night out at a symphony concert. The first was from someone Kate and I have known for about fifty years. Our daughters are “Best Friends Forever.” She has a grandson who plays trumpet with the University Symphony Orchestra, and she invited me to join her and her family for dinner and the Symphony’s final concert of the season last Thursday. They performed Carmina Burana which I had not seen before. I hadn’t left Kate at night for more than two years, but I arranged for a caregiver to stay with her.  It was a great night out with friends, and the performance was outstanding. It was the first time I had attended a live performance in four or five years.

The second gift was this past Saturday night. Kate and I have had season tickets for our local symphony since the mid-eighties. As her Alzheimer’s progressed, we stopped attending but started giving our seats to friends. That was about five years ago. Our neighbor in the apartment next door was aware of my love for our local symphony and that I had once served on their board. Although she has a season subscription of her own, she had offered several times to stay with Kate so that I could go. Each time I declined.

Two months before the symphony’s last concert this past weekend, she once again offered to stay with Kate. This time she was a little more assertive and asked me to pick one of the remaining concerts, and she would stay with Kate. As it turned out, I had already been thinking about attending the final concert of the year. The orchestra was performing Mahler’s Symphony No. 1. It is one of my favorite symphonies. In addition, Kate and I were sponsoring the performance. I really wanted to go, but the caregiver I would like most to have stayed with Kate works for us eight hours a day Monday through Friday. I didn’t want to ask her to pull an extra shift on the weekend. It can be difficult to find help these days, so I was in a quandary about what to do. Our neighbor’s offer was timely, and I accepted it quickly. I’m so glad I did.  It was a wonderful night out. The concert was great, and I got to see quite a few people I hadn’t seen in years.

These two nights out were very special, and I am grateful for the kindness of friends like these and so many others that have helped us live well while “Living with Alzheimer’s.”

Our 59th Anniversary

Kate and I celebrated our 59th wedding anniversary on May 31 last week. We gave up giving presents to each other many years ago. We concentrate on sharing special experiences together. That has often involved travel. Alzheimer’s ended that, but we always seem to find other ways to celebrate by being together. This anniversary week brought us an abundance of joyful moments.

It was highlighted by several particular events. One of those happened a week ago Saturday afternoon. I had just returned from lunch. Kate was resting in her recliner. I pulled up a chair beside her and started playing some of our favorite songs. For almost an hour, we held hands as we listened to the music. She closed her eyes, smiled, and ran her fingers over my hand. We forgot all that is going on in the world around us and enjoyed the music and being together.

Another happened on the following Tuesday, the day of our anniversary. I’ve looked forward to this for some time and have reminded Kate frequently over the past few weeks. She couldn’t remember, of course, but I hoped that my reminders might ring a bell when I wished her a Happy Anniversary. It was National Smile Day, and she smiled all day long. She was awake early, more alert, and more talkative. The following day was similar, so the day after she needed to rest and did so pretty much all day. She bounced back the next day.

Another thing made the week an especially good one. We had a new caregiver (Regina) Monday through Thursday. She had been with us one other time for just a couple of hours, and I had been impressed with the way she related to Kate. She sang and talked with her. That was most unusual. We’ve had only two or three others that I know have taken the time to connect with her.

Last week, she was here for four 8-hour days. At first, it looked like Kate was a little unsure of her, but on the third day, I got a surprise. I had been working on my computer in another room when I took a break to check on her. Regina had pulled up a chair beside Kate’s recliner, and they were holding hands. She told me that Kate had initiated the contact. It was a beautiful thing to see. Kate seemed perfectly comfortable with her. It reminded me of the way she relates to me.

There were more good times throughout the weekend. Kate had an especially joyful experience with music on Saturday. We had just returned to the apartment after an early dinner. I turned on one of her favorite albums by the Susquehanna Chorale. It includes songs like ”Loch Lomond,” “Danny Boy,” “Shenandoah,” ”Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and “Deep River.” She attempted to mouth the words of the songs and moved her head with the rhythm of the music. She was deeply moved by the music. I took pictures of her response along with several videos that I passed along to our family. It’s hard for me to express how wonderful it is for me to see her so happy. Music continues to be a powerful source of pleasure and therapy for both of us.

My expectations for our anniversary celebration were not high, but it was a week punctuated with joyful moments. “Living with Alzheimer’s” is not easy, but moments like those we experienced last week lift our spirits and sustain us during more challenging times. I am very grateful.

We’re Adapting.

I am mindful that my previous post was not as upbeat as usual, but I do believe it was an accurate portrayal of our situation at the time. Since then, Kate has been pretty much the same except that we’ve had more bright spots. Here are some of the positive signs that have occurred in the past week or so.

Although Kate is still not speaking much, she has surprised us on a number of occasions. Sometimes that has occurred with the caregiver and me, but it has also happened with other residents when we are out for ice cream or dinner. I don’t think I’ve heard her say more than three or four words at a time; however, it’s been exciting to hear her. It clearly communicates that she has understood what has been said to her and that she has responded appropriately.

Two nights ago, I was getting something to drink when a resident who was on the way back to his apartment asked if he could stop by our table and say hello to Kate. I told him that would be fine, but that she might not respond. He later told me she said, “Hello.” Our caregiver also told me that another person had spoken to her and she responded to him as well.

Music continues to play an important role in our lives. One night after dinner, I played an album of The Kingston Trio. She smiled and moved her head in rhythm to the music. I started singing along, and she tried to mouth the words as best she could. The best part came when they sang “M.T.A.” I wasn’t sure she would understand, but I explained the storyline to her. As we sang together, she broke into laughter. She must have understood more than I expected.

We had a touch of spring last week. That gave us an opportunity to sit on the balcony after dinner. I took my phone and a small speaker with us and played an album of The Carpenters’ hits. She was engaged for almost fifty minutes. For a good part of that time, we held hands as her facial expressions communicated how much she was enjoying the music. Moments like this are very special because she hasn’t expressed much emotion since her stroke seven weeks ago.

She has also responded to several things I have read to her. One of those is The Velveteen Rabbit. Another is a letter written by her grandfather to her grandmother on their 40th wedding anniversary. One other is a resolution given to her by our church celebrating her 19 years of service as our volunteer church librarian. These things may not seem so special, but they let me know that the Kate I have known so long is still with me.

She sleeps more in the morning and goes to sleep earlier at night. That leaves us with less quality time together. She experiences longer periods of time when she is awake but doesn’t respond to anything I say or seem to recognize me. Because of that, I was delighted yesterday when the caregiver told me that, “out of the blue,” Kate said, “Where’s my husband?” Life is not the same, but we’re adapting.

A Victory with Sound of Music

Kate and I have always enjoyed movies. They became an especially important part of our lives after her diagnosis. Gradually, it became difficult for her to understand the plot and follow much of the action. I was about to give up on movies when we saw two that she enjoyed in 2018. One of them was Won’t You Be My Neighbor about Mr. Rogers’ television program. The other was RBG about Ruth Bader Ginsburg. We saw the Mr. Rogers movie at least four times and the Ginsburg film two or three times. I’ve had little success with movies since then.

Periodically, I’ve tried them at home with no success. It’s very hard for her to focus on them. On the other hand, we’ve had great success with music videos on YouTube and the Twenty-fifth-anniversary concert of Les Miserables. We watched the latter over and over for several months after I first got it. A lot of the non-music elements of the concert were unimportant to her although she did respond to individual singers as they sang their solos. The same is true of the other music videos we watch on YouTube. It’s really the music itself that catches her attention.

Last year, I bought several DVDs with the film versions of Broadway musicals. I thought she might enjoy them, but there is too much dialog between the songs to keep her attention. Last week, I decided to try again with Sound of Music. At first, I thought I would simply fast forward to the songs, but then I took a different approach. I narrated the movie for her, explaining what was going on and the emotions the characters were feeling. Having taken one of the Sound of Music tours on a visit to Salzburg years ago. I also reminded her of the places we had seen when we were there. I was pleased when she seemed to be engaged from the beginning, but how long would it last? The answer? Until it was time for us to turn out the lights.

The following night we began where we left off – with the scene outside the gazebo where von Trapp and Maria express their love for each other. Kate didn’t say a word, but she was touched by it. She took my hand and held it firmly. It was a beautiful moment for the two of us.

I know that she didn’t understand many of the things that happened during the movie, but it was clear that she experienced the same feelings that millions of other viewers have had while watching this movie.

After that success, I risked being disappointed by watching it again this week. It worked again. The first night, she enjoyed it just as much as last week, but she was tired last night. We’ll finish it tonight. I’m encouraged by her response. She’s always liked My Fair Lady and Annie. I might try one of them sometime soon.

Morning Fright

For several years, Kate has periodically waked up and been frightened by not knowing anything (who she is, who I am, where she is, what she should, etc.). The “not knowing” has continued, but she has seemed less frightened or not frightened at all by it. I usually tell her who I am, her name, and that we met in college, fell in love, and have been together ever since. It doesn’t usually take long before she feels “all right.”

This morning her experience was different. It was much more like it used to be except her fright was less. It was more like she has been in recent years, somewhat more puzzled than frightened. I first noticed her less than ten minutes after beginning my morning walk. I walked to her bedside and could see immediately what the problem was.

My first effort to help her is what I described in the opening paragraph. It didn’t help. I got in bed with her, held her hand, and softly and calmly let her know that I wanted to help her. That seemed to give her a measure of security, but it didn’t solve the problem.

I had already turned on some relaxing piano music but decided to change to an album that had engaged her so much before Christmas. I started with “Edelweiss” and set it to repeat two times. As I was lying beside her, I created a playlist of other songs on the album that she also likes. I also interspersed “Edelweiss” several other times. (You may wonder how I can do this while staying in bed with Kate. The answer is that I control my audio system with my phone. It’s easy to use and has come in handy many times in similar situations.)

Once again, music came to my rescue. Before “Edelweiss” had ended the first time, she appeared more relaxed and closed her eyes. She soon fell asleep. I stayed with her long enough to be sure she was sleeping soundly. Then I finished my walk. It was forty minutes later, much longer than is usually required to calm her.

It’s been a long time since I’ve said this, but moments like this are among the saddest ones for me. Most of the time, Kate is happy. Of course, that makes me happy. I want her to be happy all the time. When she’s irritable, my emotion is “flat.” I mean that I’m neither happy nor sad. I do experience tension, but my focus is strictly on how to deal with the problem. When I’m not successful, I’m frustrated. That’s a different emotion altogether.

Kate’s being sad is much harder for me to deal with. I work hard to avoid her sadness. I don’t like to see her troubled in any way, and moments in which her brain is blank are the most disturbing moments of all for me. I talk a lot about our “Happy Moments.” I do that in this blog and in conversation with other people. I don’t do that to be deliberately misleading. I think those moments really are the most typical aspect of our journey with Alzheimer’s, but I don’t want to convey that everything is rosy. That’s impossible with life in general, and is certainly true for dementia, probably more so.

I’ve heard people say, “At least, she/he doesn’t know or is not aware.” That bothered me when my mother had dementia more than twenty years ago. I remember how often she said things like, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She was bothered, and I have seen that many times with Kate. Her senses are still alive. She knows more than we imagine.

There is no way to solve the fundamental reason she becomes frightened. I can calm her when that happens, but I can’t cure her Alzheimer’s. That means moments like the one this morning will likely continue until the very last stages of her illness, and that makes me sad too.

A Late, but Welcomed, Christmas Present from Kate

It’s no secret to those who know me that music has been of great importance to Kate and me while “Living with Alzheimer’s.” As always, we have loved enjoyed Christmas music throughout the holidays.

Last night after dinner, I decided it was time to play some of our non-seasonal favorites. What followed was almost a full hour during which Kate was almost mesmerized by the music. In no time, she was smiling, mouthing the words, and moving her head and hands in time with the music. She was much more animated than she has ever been in the past. We only stopped because it was time to get her ready for bed before the caregiver left.

Her caregiver and I were amazed, and I was enjoying it so much that I didn’t think about taking a video. Fortunately, the caregiver motioned me to do just that. I took a number of videos that will be a precious memory of these moments.

After the caregiver left, there was a bonus. We continued to enjoy music and conversation in bed. We’ve had a “Very Merry Christmas.”