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Sometimes What Looks Like a Bad Day (or weekend) Turns Out to Be a Winner.

As I hope my previous posts have conveyed, Kate and I have lived well with Alzheimer’s. Regular readers will also recognize that I do mention some of the challenges we face. Many of my posts describe a combination of our ups and downs. This post is one of those.

A month ago, we lost a caregiver who comes every other weekend from noon until 7:00. The agency sent a new person on Saturday two weeks ago, but she was with us only one day. The agency couldn’t find a replacement for her on Sunday but were able to get a “floater” who works on the grounds to help me get Kate up and ready for the day and another one to help me get her to bed. That meant I didn’t go out to lunch that day. The upside was my being able to take Kate for ice cream by myself. This was only the second time I have done that without a caregiver. It’s nice to have alone time with her.

Between then and this past weekend, the agency found a replacement who was prepared to work with us every other weekend. Her first day was this past Saturday. It got off to a rocky start. Like most of the other caregivers, she has another job, full-time on the night shift of a skilled nursing facility. Not surprisingly, she was tired when she got home that morning and lay down to rest. Unfortunately for us, she didn’t wake up in time to be at our place at noon. She was an hour and a half late.

She’s an experienced CNA (certified nursing assistant) and handled the basic tasks quite well. She only needed a little more experience with Kate’s situation. Like others, she didn’t show much interest in Kate herself, just the basic tasks of changing her, dressing her, etc. I did tell her that one of the things I wanted her to do was to bond with Kate and that I understood that would take some time. I also mentioned that Kate is sensitive to being ignored and sometimes expresses that when I get in a conversation with another person while I am with her. Despite this, I don’t recall her ever trying to communicate with Kate apart from the moments when she told Kate what she was about to do for her, something all CNAs learn as part of their basic skills.

When she left that night, she said she would see me the next day. Early the next morning, I received a call from the agency letting me know that she could not come and that they were looking for a replacement. They weren’t successful, so the person who called came over to help me get Kate up.

Once again, I had to skip going out to lunch. I know that seems like a little thing, but it’s a significant part of my selfcare. I go to the same restaurant Kate and I went to every Sunday for over five years. I know most of the personnel and some of the other customers who are also regulars. It’s a relaxing getaway for me.

On the other hand, it gave me an opportunity to spend more time with Kate. I looked forward to our going out for ice cream together as we had done two weeks before. Unfortunately, Kate experienced a delusion that troubled her and didn’t want to go out. I tried several times, but she refused to leave. Shortly after 3:30, I resorted to my old standby, music, to see if I could change her mood. Recently, I’ve found “Edelweiss” helpful in getting her attention and calming her. I tried once again.

We were seated side-by-side, and I leaned over and started singing. After going through it a couple of times, I played it about six or seven times on my audio system. It worked like a miracle. She was cheerful and had forgotten whatever was worrying her. More importantly, she was cheerful the rest of the day and evening. That’s not even the best part. Since our caregiver didn’t show, I was able to take her to dinner by myself. That was the first time we had been to dinner without a caregiver.  Kate was talkative. We actually engaged in conversation that had some of the elements of a normal one. She seemed to process my questions and asked me questions as well. Anyone watching from a distance would have thought we were just another married couple having a pleasant dinner and conversation.

Of course, her aphasia prevented my understanding everything she said. I am also sure that anyone who might have overheard us, would have wondered if I had any idea what Kate was talking about. For me, it was one of the most enjoyable “Happy Moments” we’ve had in a long time. The last time we had eaten together outside the apartment or our home was before Thanksgiving two years ago. So, what looked like, and could have been, a bad weekend turned out to be something special. It was an early Christmas present.

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Music or a Sedative?

Kate’s doctor prescribed a mild dose of Seroquel (25mg tablet) to control her combativeness after her release from the hospital last November. I used it twice and didn’t like the way it affected her. Since then, I used it once before a dentist’s appointment and another time before a podiatrist’s appointment. It wasn’t until two weeks ago that I used it again to get her to stop talking and go to sleep.

A few nights ago, Kate’s talking woke me up around 1:00 a.m. I’m not sure whether she was awake or talking in her sleep, but it was very much like the talking she exhibited over the past few weeks. She was talking in a loud voice to someone whose presence was an hallucination. At first, I tried to ignore it, but then I tried speaking to her softly and encouraged her to go back to sleep. That wasn’t successful.

My next thought was to try Seroquel. I felt sure that would work, but I try to avoid using it as often as I can. I decided to try music first. If that didn’t work, I could always resort to the sedative.

Since “Edelweiss” has worked before, I put my head on her shoulder and started singing it very softly. To my amazement, she stopped talking almost immediately. Then I hummed it. She was quiet, but I wanted to make sure she was soundly asleep. I reached for my phone on the end table and played “Edelweiss” on the audio system. I set it to repeat twenty times. She didn’t wake up until the next morning, and I was asleep long before the last note was played. Music rescued me once again.

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Music in the Morning

Regular readers of this blog know that music has been important in our lives. That was true before Kate’s diagnosis. Since then, it has played a more critical role both as entertainment and therapy. More than anything else I’ve talked about our nightly ritual of watching music videos on YouTube; however, it goes much further than that. Music plays throughout the day and night. It doesn’t usually start first thing in the morning, but when it does, its purpose is to solve a problem. That happened this morning.

I had just finished dressing and was about to go to the kitchen for breakfast. A few minutes before, I heard Kate say, “Hey” and then something else I didn’t understand. It isn’t unusual for her to talk while she is sleeping, so I hadn’t checked on her immediately. It was 6:53 when I entered the bedroom. Her eyes were open and she looked confused. It was one of those mornings when she awakes “without knowing anything.” She wanted to know what she should do. I explained that it was still early and that she could just relax and go back to sleep a while longer.

I should have learned from past experience that would not solve the problem. I think I was just eager to fix my breakfast and take my morning walk. I tried to calm her with words as I stood by her bedside but quickly decided to postpone my normal routine. I lay down beside her, put my head on her shoulder and my arm over her chest. I spoke softly to her and told her my name and hers and explained that we had met in college, fallen in love, married, and had children and grandchildren.

While this may have been useful information, she was still uneasy and wanted to know what she could do. That led me to go in another direction. Music can be comforting. Instead of trying to explain what she could or should do, I simply started singing “Edelweiss.” After just a few words, she seemed to relax. I sang it another time before pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning on the audio system to “Edelweiss.” I repeated it several times and hummed along with it. She was calm. Then I thought of several other songs that she likes (“Danny Boy,” “Shenandoah,” “Loch Lomond,” “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and “Deep River”) and played them for the next thirty minutes. The crisis was over.

I don’t know what I would do without music. I’m hopeful I won’t ever face that.

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Music Is Still One of the Best Tools in My “Caregiver’s Toolbox”

Periodically, I’ve talked about my “Caregiver’s Toolbox” and the fact that caring for Kate requires a lot of different tools to meet the variety of problems we encounter. I’ve also noted that some of these tools no longer work as well as they did in the past. In particular, photo albums don’t have the same appeal they did for years. One of those I can still count on much of the time is music. The pleasure of music continues to lift Kate’s spirits and provide many hours of enjoyment for both of us.

Since her diagnosis 10½ years ago, I’ve called on music to address specific problems. The first time occurred in the early days when I rushed her as we were getting ready to attend a concert by our local symphony orchestra. She had a panic attack and hadn’t fully recovered when we left the house. As soon as we were in the car, I turned on the second movement of the Brahms Violin Concerto. It’s a very peaceful adagio that runs just over 10 minutes. Kate was calm before it ended. That experience led me to create a short playlist of the second movements of the Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and Mendelssohn violin concertos for use on other occasions.

Several years ago, Kate was uneasy after awaking from a short nap on the sofa in our family room. I was seated across from her and went over to see what I could do to help. After an unsuccessful attempt to calm her, I started to sing a children’s song, the name of which I no longer remember. That seemed to bring a brief smile to her face, but my memory of songs escaped me. I took my phone out of my pocket and searched for albums of children’s songs on Google. I found one with 100 songs and downloaded them to my phone. For the next 30-40 minutes, we sang songs like “Polly Wolly Doodle,” “Old McDonald Had a Farm,” “The Bear Went Over the Mountain,” “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” and many others. The crisis was over in no time.

As I was about to go to sleep earlier this week, Kate had a delusion like many others she has had in the past. She was worried about someone she believed was coming to see us. She couldn’t stop talking about it. I tried to reassure her by telling her I would help her and that I had everything worked out, but that didn’t do the trick. I leaned upon music to help me. Lying beside her with my head on her shoulder, I began to softly sing “Edelweiss.” Then I hummed it again. I followed that by humming “Nearer My God to Thee.” My next step was to start a search for both of these songs to play on my audio system. Before I could do that, she had stopped talking. She was calm and drifted off to sleep. Music had come to the rescue once more.

There are many other examples of the ways in which music has enriched our lives. I don’t know how long this will last, but I’m optimistic that it will be important to us the rest of our lives.

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“Happy Moments” Make for “Happy Days”

Almost all of our “Happy Moments” are unplanned. That’s part of what makes them special. One of those occurred the other morning when I was giving Kate her meds in a cup of strawberry and banana yogurt, a favorite of hers. After her last bite, she began to whistle. (She’s hasn’t been a whistler until the past 6-12 months when she began whistling to express her happiness.)

One of my many quirks is that I often hum, whistle, or sing softly without being quite aware of doing so. In this case, I began to whistle “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” She expressed her pleasure with a smile. It doesn’t take much encouragement for me to break into song, and I sang the song to her. Spurred on by her pleasure, I whistled “Old Man River” and followed by singing it.

She was enjoying the music so much that I put on an album of children’s songs I downloaded 3-4 years ago when she was disturbed about something. Since that time, I have periodically used it for entertainment, not to solve a problem. We spent the next 20-30 minutes listening and sometimes singing songs like the “Alphabet Song,” “If You’re Happy,” and “The Bear Went Over the Mountain.”

When we finished, Kate was ready to rest, but it was another unanticipated “Happy Moment” that didn’t require any planning or great musical talent. Just two people connecting through music that added an extra measure of happiness to our day.

Some might say, “What’s so special about that?” John Zeisel answers that in his book, I’m Still Here: A Breakthrough Approach to Understanding Someone Living with Alzheimer’s. He points out that too often we treat people living with dementia like “patients” rather than as “people.” We need to accept and appreciate their capabilities that last long after the diagnosis. It’s possible to maintain positive relationships with our loved ones with dementia through many things like photos and music that have been very important to Kate and me. This particular “Happy Moment” illustrates how we are able to continue to enjoy life and each other. May it always be so.

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Making a Recovery and Two Very “Happy Moments”

Kate is still a long way from a full recovery from COVID, but I’ve been encouraged by her progress over the past two days. Although she is still not out of bed, she is somewhat more accepting of the efforts of the caregivers to change her and move her in any way. Changing her is one thing with which I am still helping. We have found that my getting in bed with her and asking her to hold my hands seems to give her added security. Except for the actual move to her side and back again, she has been calm.

I will say, however, that changing her and the mattress pads (chucks) is no easy task even with my help. I continue to be struck by the little things that the caregivers know to get the job done. I would not have believed that they could change the bed sheets while Kate is lying on them if I hadn’t seen it for myself. Were it not for Kate’s strong resistance to being moved, it would be even easier.

She is eating more now, and her “plumbing” is working as it should. It took two attempts, but Senokot did the trick. In addition, crushing her meds has made pill time a breeze.

We are still dealing with a problem that occurred while she was in the hospital. I wasn’t with her during that time, but the reports of her behavior and what I have observed at home with all the new caregivers tell me that she has been traumatized by not having any idea of who these people are and why they are “pushing her around” so much.

That leads me to tell you about two very “Happy Moments” we had last night and the night before. For years now, our evenings together have been the most predictably good times of the entire day. I’ve always attributed that to the relaxed nature of our activities after dinner and ending when we go to sleep; however, the contrast between our days and nights has never been as great as it has been since she came home from the hospital. It was quite dramatic the past two nights.

During both afternoons, I played YouTube videos of Christmas music. Several of them were full concerts. Two nights ago we watched “Christmas in Vienna 2018”. That brought back a pleasant memory of December 2008 when Kate and I were in Vienna and attended a live performance of this annual Christmas program. I think Kate enjoyed the video as much as I did. She was happy, and so was I.

Last night, I watched the evening news after dinner while Kate rested. Then I got in bed with her and turned on YouTube again. Kate was exactly like her old self. She was fully at ease, and we were able to talk periodically, generally about our relationship and how good it was to be together. Last night, she introduced this conversation by saying, “I’m so glad you are here.” I interpreted that as a response to all the time she has spent with the caregivers during the day. I think it also makes a difference that she has had at least five or six new caregivers and only one who has cared for her in the past. She has been with us for over three years. Both nights, I ended our evening by reading (you guessed it) The Velveteen Rabbit. She was especially moved by it last night and expressed her pleasure throughout.

Before reading the book, I went back to YouTube and turned on a fireplace video. I’m not sure what motivated me to do that. I know that I had learned about them years ago, but it never seemed like something we might enjoy. It may have been the Christmas music we had enjoyed so much combined with Kate’s joyful mood. It was very much like a Christmas evening we might have had long before Alzheimer’s.

When I finished reading, I decided not to turn off the “fireplace,” and we watched the fire and listened to my favorite album of Christmas music sung by Chanticleer. Kate loved the fire. It actually created a slight glow in the room with the lights out. We talked another 15-20 minutes before calling it an evening, but they were special moments.

Moments like these are encouraging to me. They remind me of something that has been true over the entire course of Kate’s Alzheimer’s. She has gradually lost more and more of her abilities over time. That has been especially true in the past 6-8 months. With each loss, however, we’ve experienced moments like the past two nights. We don’t know, and have never known, exactly what lies ahead of us, but I am optimistic that we will continue to have moments like these. I might even try the YouTube Fireplace again. You can’t have too many tools in your toolbox.

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A Happy Day

I’m glad I’ve been able to relay so many good times that Kate and I have had since her diagnosis, but you must have noticed that sometime last year I began to talk about things that have been more challenging. These challenges seemed to escalate just before or during our recent holiday season. The good times were far from over, but I have had to work harder at problem-solving. Still, the balance between good times and trying times remains heavily tilted in favor of the good ones. I think that is a major reason for my lack of interest in adding more help, something I could quintuple without its costing me a penny.

There are also a few days that stand out because they are filled with happy moments. When they arrive, I think of each one as a gift. That is what is was like yesterday. It began at 5:15 in the morning. I was awake and considering whether or not to get up. It turned out that Kate was also awake. She moved closer to me and said with a slight chuckle, “Hello, how are you?” I told her I was fine. She reached across my chest, and we spent the next 30-40 minutes just enjoying being close. I don’t know whether she remembered my name or our relationship, but she conveyed her comfort and love that was very deep.

At 6:00, I told her I was going to get ready for the day and have breakfast. Just before 8:30, I heard her say, “Hey.” She often talks in her sleep. I waited a moment to see if she were calling me. She said, “Hey. I’m in here.” I went to see what she wanted. I found that she was quite cheerful. We chatted about ten minutes. I asked if she wanted to get up. She said, “I don’t know. What should I do?” Knowing this was earlier than usual, I told her it was up to her. I mentioned that if she got up, I could give her a blueberry muffin. Her eyes brightened, but that didn’t cause her to bounce right up. We talked a little more. She finally said, “Why don’t I rest a little more and you tell me when I should get up.” I did. Fifteen minutes later, I went back. She was ready to get up. She was confused about the usual things (where she was, where the bathroom was, what the toilet was, etc.) but not disturbed and needed my help with everything. More importantly, she happily accepted my help.

I warmed up her muffin and gave her a side of fresh blueberries as well as a few slices of canned peaches. I fixed myself some coffee and sat with her. She loved her breakfast, and each of us enjoyed the other’s company. When she finished, we adjourned to the family room where I picked up the photo book of Facebook pictures that I purchased two weeks ago. I wasn’t at all surprised when she said she was tired after only looking at a few pages. She lay down on the sofa while I got my laptop and returned to join her a chair across from her.

While she was resting, I received a phone call from a friend telling me about a popular lunch place that was serving takeout. We’ve eaten there before, but it had been a long time. I went to their website to look over the menu. I ordered a turkey melt for Kate and pulled barbecued chicken with a mixed green salad. We went to pick it up. She stayed in the car while I got the food. As I walked in, I saw homemade tomato basil soup and Brunswick stew to bring home as well.

After lunch, we walked from the kitchen into the family room. Kate immediately commented on the spring flowers in the back yard. The azaleas and dogwoods are in full bloom. She delighted in pointing out the things she especially liked. When we finished, she wanted to rest. I walked her to her recliner. She asked if that was where I wanted her to sit. I said, “Yes, and I’ve got your Dr. Pepper right on the table beside you. She was childlike in her excitement and chocked up about my having her favorite drink. Once in a reclining position in the chair, she said mentioned something about her friends. I said, “I hope I’m one of them.” She gave me a gentle and sincere smile and said, “I think you’re going to be.” She paused and added, “What is your name?” I said, “That’s one of the things I like about you. You are so honest.”

The biggest surprise of the day came late in the day after she had rested a long time. She was enjoying the beauty from her recliner, taking in all the spring flowers and new leaves on the trees.. I had been sitting a while and decided I wanted to walk around inside the house a few minutes. She asked me something about it, and I casually asked if she would like to walk with me. I was shocked when she said yes. That was the first time she has done so. She asked where I was going to walk. I decided to take advantage of this opportunity and told her I was going to walk down the street a short way and then come back. Off we went.

I wondered if she would back out before we got to the street, but she didn’t. The walk was short in distance (four houses down from ours), but very enjoyable. She was enthusiastic about everything she saw starting right outside of our garage. It took about ten minutes to get to the street. This continued down the street and back. She was like a little child at circus. As she does inside the house, she wanted to point out everything to me as though I couldn’t see it myself. Thirty-five minutes later, we were back in the house. I considered this quite a victory. I had finally gotten her to walk, and I enjoyed seeing how happy she was. It was a perfect day to be outside, lots of sun and temperature in the lower-70s.

I put on an album of Peter, Paul and Mary while we ate dinner. Kate and I enjoyed hearing so many songs that were popular just before and during the early days of our marriage.

The only rough spot of the day occurred after dinner. Thinking she was somewhere other than home, Kate was ready to leave. I explained that we were home and that we would spend the night here. She accepted that. It wasn’t long, however, before we ran into another problem. She got the impression that people were coming to our house. I mentioned that people were not supposed to gather together like that. She asked why. I told her about the coronavirus pandemic. It was impossible for her to understand. I could see that was a losing cause and tried to divert her. I was successful briefly, but the she would remember again that people were coming to see us. That is when I turned, once again, to music for help.

Most of the music we play on YouTube is either classical or Broadway. Hearing Peter, Paul and Mary during dinner prompted me to see what YouTube had. It was no surprise that there is a lot. The rest of the evening was devoted to PP&M. It was another happy moment and a perfect way to end an almost perfect day.

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Another Successful Experience with Music

The first time I looked to music for therapeutic purposes with Kate was over eight years ago. We were getting ready to attend a concert by the Knoxville Symphony. Kate was very slow getting dressed. I reminded her several times that we needed to leave right away. This was not long after her diagnosis, and I hadn’t learned how important it is not to rush her. She had a panic attack. That meant I had to calm her. That helped, but she was still experiencing the attack when we got to the car. The first thing I did was put on the second movement of Brahms’ Violin Concerto. It’s a very peaceful movement, and I hoped that might calm her. It worked. After that, I developed a short playlist of the second movements of violin concertos of Brahms, Mendelssohn, and Tchaikovsky. We never had another severe panic attack, but she did have milder ones.

That playlist came in handy, and it motivated me to select a broad range of music to play in the car wherever we went. I still play music anytime we are in the car, and I’m careful to select music she especially likes. From there I expanded music at home. Now I rely on it all the time, and I am always discovering new applications. One of those occurred yesterday.

The recent Covid-19 pandemic is affecting everyone. I had been to the grocery store to get a few things in case we weren’t able to eat out. I returned home an hour after the sitter arrived. Although I knew I might run into trouble, I came back just to unload the groceries, some of which needed to be refrigerated or frozen.

As I walked into the kitchen, I saw that Kate was lying on the sofa with her eyes open. I felt I couldn’t leave without speaking to her. I sat down beside her and saw that she was disturbed. I asked what was wrong. She said, “I don’t know. I’m just not myself.” I talked to her very calmly for a few minutes but could tell this was going to take more time.

I told the sitter she could go and turned on “Send in the Clowns” sung by Barbra Streisand. This song has long been one of Kate’s favorites. It is usually very soothing. Not this time. It is a sad song, and, for the first time, she felt the sadness as opposed to the song’s beauty. I knew she needed something much lighter and thought of “A Bushel and a Peck” by Doris Day. I sometimes use this when I am trying to get her up in the morning. She recognized the song very quickly, and the two of us sang it together. She became more cheerful. We, accompanied by Doris, sang it two more times.

This had been successful but had only taken a few minutes. She and I sing together, at least for brief periods, periodically, but it is usually in the car. I decided it might be good if we sang more and streamed a 3-disc album of 100 children’s songs. We started with “The Alphabet Song.” Then we moved to the “Eensy, Weensy Spider.” For the next hour we sang songs we hadn’t heard since our own children were young, some not since we we were children ourselves. They included songs like “Polly-Wolly-Doodle,” “If You’re Happy,” “ The Bear Went Over the Mountain,” “Bingo,” “This Old Man,” “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” “Old McDonald,” “Do Lord,” “She’ll Be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain,” and many others. We must have sung 30-40 of the 100 and had a great time.

Music is powerful. It has saved us many times, and is always a source of great pleasure.

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Our Roughest Day, But, Again, a Nice Finish

Yesterday, as I walked out of the bathroom to get dressed, Kate said, “Hello.” I went over to the bed. She was uneasy. It turned out that she had awakened while I was in the bathroom and didn’t know where I was. Several times over the next ten minutes or so, she said, “I didn’t know where you were. I thought I had done something wrong.” (She is very sensitive about doing the right thing.) I took her to the bathroom. She was very unsure of herself and needed my help even more than usual. She was still emotional when I took her back to bed.

It was no surprise that she wanted me to stay with her. I got in bed with her and stayed for another thirty minutes. She seemed calm though not asleep. I told her I was thinking about getting dressed and having breakfast and then returning to the bedroom and working in the chair beside her side of the bed. She said that was fine. I was encouraged.

Less than an hour later, she started to get up. She wanted to go to the bathroom again. This time she took a shower and then rested in bed for almost another hour. I don’t recall anything unusual until just before we left for Panera. She said she felt a little sick. Then she said, “Maybe I’m just hungry.” On the way, she was talkative, but she had much more trouble than usual speaking her words correctly. In addition, I was clear about the content of what she was saying. She was delusional. She mentioned people we were meeting or had been with. I really couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. At Panera and on the way home, she exhibited the same symptoms. They were noticeably more severe than in the past. Before finishing her muffin, she took it off her plate and set it on the table. Then she picked up every crumb that was on the plate until it was spotless. This is something I have seen her do a few other times. Occasionally, she does the same thing with the table top.

I began to wonder if she might have had a TIA, but the only symptoms she had were ones that she has had before, and they didn’t seem to be like those we generally associate with a stroke. Nevertheless, I gave her four baby aspirin as soon as we got in the house. She was very tired and lay down on the sofa.

Only minutes later, the sitter arrived. I met her outside and explained what was going on and encouraged her to call me if she needed anything while I was gone. I didn’t hear from her and felt that was a good sign. Generally, by lunch problems like these would be gone. When I returned, she was resting on the sofa. Cindy told me she had eaten a good lunch and had been resting since they returned home.

After Cindy left, I asked Kate if she would like to look at one of her photo books or read something. When I mentioned Anne Frank’s diary, she expressed interest. I picked up the book and sat beside her on the sofa. I read several entries before she said she was tired. She rested about thirty minutes before I suggested that we go to dinner. She was still very tired but got up without a problem.

She was talkative on the way to the restaurant. Once again, however, I had difficulty understanding what she said. I know it involved other people that she thought I knew. She also had trouble with her words. At one point, she said something about “blee.” I finally realized she meant blue.

We sat in a booth at the restaurant, and she wanted me to sit beside her. That happens much more now. She had two cheese burritos. She still had one remaining when I finished my meal. I had cut the first one into bite-size pieces. She tried to do the same with the second one. I offered to help. Instead of eating them, she started moving them around on her plate using her fingers. It soon became clear that she was creating a “work of art.” She tried to explain, but I couldn’t fully understand except that she wanted me to take a picture of the plate of these pieces. She wanted one picture of the plate and piece alone and one with her in the photo. I obliged her.

When we walked up to the counter to pay, there were two other people in line in front of us. Kate was restless. She didn’t understand what they were doing and wanted me to go ahead of them. I explained a couple of times that we needed to wait until they were finished. The woman immediately ahead of us had opened the door to leave when Kate called to her. The woman stopped and looked around. Kate asked her if she would take a picture of the two of us. By now there was another waiting behind me. I started to tell Kate that we should let the woman go. Then I agreed. I told the man behind us to go ahead, but he said he could wait. The woman took our picture. I paid the check, and we headed home.

Typically, I would turn on the news after we are home, but I didn’t last night. It had been an unusual day for Kate. She seemed very tired. Her speech might have been a little better than it was in the morning but not significantly. I thought it was a good time to refocus her attention. I went back to YouTube. We watched a playlist we had seen before and liked. As it did the night before, the music captured her attention from the time I turned it on until I turned it off.

Even better is the fact that today (as of 2:45), I haven’t seen any of the same symptoms that she displayed yesterday.

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Music and More

Not long after Kate and I returned home from dinner Sunday night, Kate started working on her iPad. She quickly found it too difficult and directed her attention to her hair, her toes, face, and legs. I’m not sure exactly how to describe what she does, but it reminds me of a cat that preens itself. She began by pulling her hair. I turned on the TV to one of the NFL games with the sound muted.

I didn’t watch much of the game. She wanted me to watch what she was doing. That is becoming increasingly common. A couple times in the past, she has said she wants me to make sure that she is “doing it right.” I don’t know what that is, but she thinks I do. That’s what matters. After half-heartedly watching as I also tried to catch some of the Steelers/Ravens game, she wanted me to be an active participant. I had the distinct impression she wanted my help this time to keep my attention on her. Several times, she sternly said, “Are you watching me?” One time she caught me when she said, “Tell me what I just said.” I hadn’t really had a chance to get wrapped up in the game, but I admit to giving both the game and Kate my divided attention.

I tried to be obedient when she asked me to do the things she had been doing, but she sensed my lack of enthusiasm. She wasn’t happy. I was ready to take a shower, but she wanted my help. I needed something to redirect her attention and shift her mood. Not surprisingly, I thought about music. I suggested that I look for something on YouTube.

One of the first things I saw was a video entitled “Saint Paul’s at Christmas.” I assumed it was one of their Christmas concerts. I reminded Kate of our celebrating Easter Sunday at Saint Paul’s on a trip to England quite a few years ago. I told her how much we had enjoyed the music that day and suggested this might be fun to watch.

It took only a few minutes to discover that it was actually a documentary that focused on the preparations required to manage all of the different Advent and Christmas events. That led me to tell Kate that it wasn’t a musical performance (though there was some music in the program) and asked if she would like me to find something else. By the time I asked, she was already engaged and didn’t want to change. I watched with her a short time. Before leaving to take my shower, her eyes moved periodically between the TV and me. She made sure that I was watching. When she saw me on my iPad, she told me to watch the TV. It was an interesting documentary that included the beauty of the Cathedral itself and the preparations of the choir, but I finally got up to take my shower. By this time, she had gotten in bed to continue watching. She was sitting up. That was a good sign that she was interested in the program. I know it was far too complicated for her to have understood, but she enjoyed it. Her mood had changed significantly.

It was just ending when I finished showering. The video that followed it was an Andre Rieu Christmas concert, most of which was filmed at his home in Maastricht. It is a magnificent home that was beautifully decorated. The concert was outside with abundant and colorful decorations and lighting. I thought the concert itself was the best I have seen in a while. Kate and I watched the whole program sitting up in our bed. Both of us loved it.

The video ended at 9:40. It was time for me to say good night and past time for Kate; however, the next video was the New York Philharmonic playing Dvorak’s Symphony “From the New World.” It has been a favorite of mine since playing it with my high school orchestra. Kate and I have attended many symphony concerts in the past, but she is not generally as taken with orchestral concerts. I started to turn it off. Then I suggested we just watch a portion of it. To my surprise, Kate was immediately taken with it. We watched to the very end forty minutes later. I suspect the video enhanced her appreciation of the music. Of course, the music was also familiar to her. That surely helped, but knowing why she was so enraptured doesn’t matter. She had just spent almost a full three hours enjoying a documentary, a Christmas concert, and a popular symphony. She was happy. Once again, music played a key role recovering from what started out to be an unpleasant evening.