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Reflecting on Kate’s Intuitive Abilities. Part 2: Taste and Touch

By now you are well aware that Kate and I eat out for all our meals except breakfast. Thus, it should not surprise you that the sense of taste has played a relevant part in our lives. I can’t say, however, that it has brought with it the same degree of pleasure as music and our social experiences. Let me try to explain.

Kate and I are not “Foodies.” By that, I mean that we do not passionately explore a diverse variety of foods and ways in which they can be prepared. When we are traveling and when we dine out for special occasions, we may explore unique and tasty menu items. Since we eat out all the time, we don’t go to a lot of upscale restaurants. Most of them are everyday places.

That does not mean that the taste of food is irrelevant to us. On the contrary, we have found ourselves gravitating to food that we enjoy the most. For several years, I have ordered Kate’s meals for us. I do that based on the things that I know she likes, not necessarily what I think is best from a dietary standpoint. In other words, her taste in food and beverages does matter.

She has always liked Dr. Pepper (DP). It is not available at all the restaurants we frequent. When it is, that is what I have usually gotten for her. Her sense of taste, however, is something that has been changing. She no longer distinguishes the taste of different beverages as clearly as she used to. When she gets a DP, she frequently tells me “Something’s wrong with this.” Within the past year, I noticed that she was selecting a little of each of the beverages in the vending machine at Panera. She was no longer going straight to DP. The fact that she has gained weight has led me to order more iced tea half sweet and half unsweet. She has been happy with that. I still keep DP at home in the small cans but notice that she often doesn’t finish what she pours.

Apart from that, I choose specific food items that she likes. When we are eating a full meal, I often order salmon or scallops for her. She likes both. She also likes sweet potato fries. I order those when they are on the menu. In the sandwich line, she likes mostly turkey. One of the other changes in her taste has involved bacon. She doesn’t like the crispiness of bacon. I now ask that bacon be omitted from any sandwich that has them. Similarly, she doesn’t usually eat lettuce, so I omit that as well. I never get her a salad. The idea of a salad turns her off. That’s ironic because she used to make great salads.

Through experimentation we have settled into a array of items she likes at every restaurant we visit. She especially likes her Italian and Mexican meals, and she loves to add lots of Parmesan cheese to her pasta.

Both of us have always loved desserts. When we first married, we had dessert with every evening meal. Over the years, desserts became more of a treat for special occasions. Now we eat more desserts, about five times a week. That specifically relates to Kate’s desire for them. Don’t get me wrong. I love them just as much as she does; however, I am more prone to monitor what I eat than she is. My first reaction was to discourage eating more desserts. I had a second thought. Dessert is something we both enjoy, and I don’t want to look back and regret that I hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity share that pleasure.

Speaking of desserts makes me think of the blueberry muffin she gets at Panera. That is something she has really enjoyed; however, now that she sleeps later in the morning, we don’t get there as often. When we do, it is in the afternoon. Then we usually just get something to drink.

Kate doesn’t demand a great deal with respect to her meals. She is getting what she wants. When you couple that with the other benefits of eating out, she is getting along well.

When I began to think of the role of touch in our lives, I initially thought of it as less important than the other senses. After thinking a little more, I’d have to say that it has played a significant complementary role in our overall relationship. Often that comes with routine expressions of affection. I believe we hug more than we did before Alzheimer’s. I know there are times when words don’t seem to be the right answer to a problem. When Kate has had a panic or anxiety attack, I have responded with a warm hug when I wasn’t sure what to say. There are times when we are in the car, usually on the way out of town, that she may reach across and simply touch my arm, hand, or leg. More often that that, she wakes up in the middle of the night, moves closer to me, and puts a hand on my arm. It’s just another way of saying “I love you,” but it’s an important one.

That leaves only the sense of smell. I’m not sure what to say about that except that it is something that I don’t see as having played a significant role in how well we get along with Alzheimer’s. Perhaps this is something I should pay more attention to in the future. Each of other senses, however, has been very important to us, and I expect them to last a good bit longer.

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Reflecting on Kate’s Intuitive Abilities

As Kate’s rational abilities (remembering names, places, processes, relationships, etc.) continue to fade away, I find myself focusing even more on her intuitive abilities. These are the ones that involve our five senses, sight, suond, taste, smell, and touch. As Judy Cornish stresses in The Dementia Handbook, it is the rational abilities that decline so rapidly with dementia. People with dementia (PWD) continue to experience the world through their senses and from them derive associated feelings. They also hold on to feelings associated with people, places, and things even after the names are forgotten. I have often mentioned how important music has been to Kate and me, but I don’t believe I have given sufficient attention to her other sensory experiences. In addition to sound, sight has been especially important. I would like to relate a few experiences that occurred yesterday that illustrate what I mean.

It began first thing yesterday morning. Well, not “first thing.” It was actually 10:45 when I walked into the bedroom and noticed that Kate was awake. As I walked over to the bed, she smiled at me and gave me a little wave with her hand. From past experience I know that it is unlikely that she remembered my name. It is quite possible she didn’t remember that I am her husband; however, she did recognize me as someone she knows and likes. She responded very much the way she would have if she did not have Alzheimer’s. That was a “happy moment” for both of us, and it didn’t require any of the typical rational knowledge that we normally associate with a husband/wife relationship of fifty-five years. She felt good that I was there, and I felt good seeing her greet me so warmly.

You may recall two other similar experiences I have mentioned before. One involves a friend of Kate’s we saw at a movie several months ago. Kate has always liked her. We spoke for a few minutes. When we turned away to go into the theater, Kate said, “Who was that? I don’t remember her at all, but I  liked her.” Indeed she did. The other involves a negative feeling and is one that has occurred several times. It’s a mug shot of Frank Sinatra that hangs in a restaurant where we eat our Sunday lunch. She can never remember who he is, but she knows she doesn’t like him. That relates to my telling her about the circumstances of his arrest for adultery and seduction. Of course, she doesn’t remember that, only her feeling about it and him.

One of the best illustrations of the pleasure she derives from sight involves the children we see wherever we go. She loves watching them and often speaks to them. Another is her love for beauty in nature. I see this most often when she comments about the trees on the neighbor’s property behind our house. It also occurs when we are driving along the highway or local streets. She often says, “I love the green.” She is referring to the green trees and shrubbery. This experience also extends to sunsets and houses. As we leave our house, she almost always says, “I like that house.” when we pass the last house on our street. When she goes through the “Big Sister” photo book that her brother Ken made, she repeatedly comments on the smiles on people’s faces, even her own. And I shouldn’t overlook the puzzles she works. She often shows me a puzzle and comments about the beautiful colors or the cute kittens, and she works those same puzzles over and over and over. In the coming year I plan to make more visits to two of our local museums and our zoo. These are also things that she appreciates through her visual ability.

Of course, our senses are working together all the time. When I describe the pleasure Kate receives from music at Casa Bella, it is really mixed with the sight of familiar faces and good feelings about those with whom we sit each time. She can enjoy a great evening without depending on any rational abilities at all.

She has had several experiences over the past two days that illustrate the interaction of sight and sound. The first occurred at lunch on New Years. As we entered Panera, we saw a man we often call Montana because he spent much of his life there. He is there almost everyday. He sits outside rain or shine in winter and summer and always wears a cowboy hat. Over the past few years, Kate has always spoken to him when we arrive. After he returned her greeting on Tuesday, she said, “I like your voice. You should be on the radio.” By itself, this is just an indication that she liked his voice, but it is also something that is a common occurrence. She doesn’t say it to everyone, but she does often tell the person or me that he or she has a nice voice. I might add that Kate no longer remembers him as Montana or his real name, but she remembers him and continues to speak with him each time she sees him.

We had two similar experiences with servers yesterday, one at lunch, the other at dinner. The server at lunch has served us for several years. We often talk with her about her daughter who is a competitive swimmer. Yesterday we caught up on our separate travels to visit family for Christmas. As we left, Kate commented on how nice she is and her “natural” way of relating to her customers. With a different server, our experience could have been quite different. The best part might have only been the meal. As it was, sight and sound made for an enjoyable social experience as well.

The experience last night was similar though different in that our server had only served us once before. We didn’t have a history with her. I try to learn our servers’ names and asked her name. A little later, I asked if she were a student. She said she was, and I asked her major. Before we left, we had found out that she used to work at Casa Bella and knows the family of the owners. After we told her goodbye, Kate said, “I’m impressed with her, and she has a beautiful voice.” Again, her pleasure didn’t rely on her rational abilities at all.

These experiences remind me once again that how much of our pleasure derives from our intuitive abilities. For the past eight years, Kate and I have emphasized these abilities. We have enjoyed life and been happy. It is only within the past six months that I have understood why. I thank Judy Cornish for opening my eyes to the value of our intuitive abilities, especially for people with dementia. That becomes their only world.

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Confusion in the Afternoon

After lunch yesterday, Kate and I spent almost three hours relaxing in our family room. It was a cool overcast day, and I made our first fire of the year. I don’t think we had more than one or two all last winter. I put on some music and began my previous post while Kate worked on her iPad. After two hours, she rested on the sofa though she didn’t go to sleep.

When she got up, we talked about going for an early dinner and how pleasant the afternoon had been. We also talked about all the good times we have had. As so often happens, she then asked my name and our relationship. Once again, she was surprised that we were married.

We talked a little more and then started to walk toward the garage. She stopped and with a puzzled look on her face, she said, “I don’t even know who I am.” I told her I could help her and picked up her “Big Sister Album” that her brother Ken had made for her. I showed her one of her baby pictures and her name. Then I turned to a page with our wedding photos and read the accompanying information to her. She was delighted and wanted to take the album to dinner with us. I suggested we leave it at home and go through it later. When we got home after dinner, she wanted to wait until today.

On the way home, she expressed her confidence in my driving and thanked me for taking such good care of her. I told her that I do it because I love her. I should say that I not only do things to care for her, but I have paid particular attention to cultivating a relationship of trust. I tell her I love her far more than I ever did before Alzheimer’s or even the early years after her diagnosis. I put an emphasis on this about two or three years ago. Prior to that we light-heartedly joked with each other. She was never one to joke, and over time, her jokes began to sound like more serious charges about my trying to control her life. When I noticed that, I backed away from almost all joking with her and adopted the approach of a more loving partner in her journey. I think that has paid dividends as she has become more dependent on me. She still talks about my trying to control more than she would like. She did that last night, but she also is able to say that she knows I do that with good intentions. I sense that she recognizes my desire to help her no matter what happens. I believe that is reflected in her expressions of appreciation that are becoming more frequent. For quite some time, I have said that we are a team and that we face everything together. Sometimes she uses that term when we work together on something. For example, last night I gave her my hand as she got out of the car. When she got up, I said, “You did it.” She said, “We did it. We’re a team.” She occasionally says something similar when I help her get dressed.

As we walked in the house after dinner, she asked what she could do. I told her I would see if there were something on TV that he might enjoy. I also mentioned that she could work puzzles on her iPad. She liked the idea of puzzles. She worked happily until I told her it was time for us to go to bed.

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Little Things and the Importance of Intuitive Abilities

Yesterday was another relaxed day and a very nice one. Even though we had no commitments for the day, I got Kate up before she was ready. Our housekeeper was at the house, and I also didn’t want to eat too late in the day. Fortunately, Kate didn’t make a fuss at all about getting up. She responded to me as though she recognized me. She didn’t ask my name or who I am. She gladly accepted my help with dressing although she did most of it by herself.

When we were ready for lunch and about to get in the car, she called to me in a whisper and motioned me to come close to her. It was like she was trying to keep someone from overhearing her although there was no one around. I walked to her, and she whispered in my ear, “What is my name?” I told her. She asked me to repeat it and then said it herself. As I opened the car door, she said, “What’s your name?” When I told her, she said, “I knew that.”

On the way to lunch, I played a CD of familiar show tunes. She sang along with several of them. I was surprised at her memory for the lyrics. She didn’t get them perfectly, but she did a pretty good job. She also surprised me as we left the restaurant. We were about to step off a curb when she said, “Take my hand.” I immediately sang the phrase “Take my hand; I’m a stranger . . .” She finished it by singing “in paradise.” I was surprised again. That’s an old song, and one that we haven’t heard in many years.

Later after we had returned home, she picked up something that belonged to our housekeeper thinking it was ours. I told her it was the housekeeper’s. She said, “My bad.” I don’t ever recall her using that expression before, and it is obviously of a more recent vintage than the old songs she was singing earlier. Once again she had surprised me.

I continue to believe Kate derives a good bit of pleasure from the puzzle pictures themselves as well as the satisfaction of completing them. She often asks me to look at a puzzle after she has finished it and comments about the colors or how cute the animals are. She has two or three that she works over and over. Both of them are pictures of kittens. One is very colorful. Kate like that. She likes the kitten in the other one. This happened several times while we were at Barnes & Noble yesterday afternoon. Her intuitive abilities are alive and well.

After dinner last night, I turned on the last of the Clemson/Notre Dame game and planned to watch the Alabama/Oklahoma game. As so often happens, my plans changed. Normally, Kate works her puzzles until time for her to go to bed. As I have mentioned before, she is encountering a little more frustration with her puzzles now. There have been a number of occasions in the past several weeks that she has simply put down her iPad and sat without doing anything. That is what happened last night. I saw that she had stopped working her puzzles and knew that she needed a break. I suggested that I find a YouTube video with some music. She liked the idea. I found a series of Andrea Bocelli videos that she enjoyed. That was followed by an old “Christmas in Vienna” concert with The Three Tenors. She watched all of it and was thoroughly entertained. That was an hour. It led to several additional videos of Bocelli with other musicians like Lang Lang and Sarah Brightman. Kate was so engaged that she didn’t want to go bed but did so at my urging.

So what about football? The truth is that I didn’t have a stake in either game, so I didn’t consider it a great sacrifice to give them up. In addition, I also enjoyed the music as well as watching Kate being so engaged. I hope that we will be able to enjoy music together for a long time. It’s a pleasure for me to live in the moment with her. It is also another example of how important intuitive abilities are to both of us. They provide moments of joy I did not expect when Kate was diagnosed.

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Happy Moments: Part 2

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

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

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The Joy of Living with Alzheimer’s

Whenever I tell people that Kate has Alzheimer’s, I see a shocked look on their faces. Their words match their faces. All one can think about is the horror of the disease. I understand. I was in their shoes when Kate’s doctor gave us the diagnosis. That was almost eight years ago. I’ve learned a lot more about the disease during that time. I still recognize the sad aspects and never intend to deny them in my posts. They are real, and I am about to experience more of them as Kate approaches the late stages of the disease.

When I began my journal, my intent was to document our journey. I didn’t know what it would be like, but I thought there might be other people in our shoes who could benefit from our story. For me, the most important thing I have learned is that the enjoyment of life does not end with the diagnosis. Life has changed, but Kate and I continue to be active. Even now as her memory fades and confusion is common, we have many good moments.

One of the other important things I have learned is something that helps to explain why we have gotten along so well. I credit Judy Cornish and her book, The Dementia Handbook. Let me briefly summarize the point she makes for those who are not familiar with her book or my posts about it.

Cornish talks about two general categories of abilities that everyone possesses, those that are “rational” and those that are “intuitive.” Rational abilities include the kinds of things we learn in school like the names for people, places, historical events, and procedures for accomplishing specific tasks. Rational thought or abilities are very important, but not everything.

Cornish gives special attention to our intuitive abilities. These involve our ability to directly experience the world around us via our senses. Her point is that dementia has its greatest impact on our rational abilities. When people with dementia lose their memory, they lose the facts, figures, names, and procedures that they have accumulated over the years. Much of our everyday life depends on this kind of knowledge. That’s the bad news.

The good news is that much of the pleasure we enjoy in life derives from our intuitive abilities, and people with dementia retain those for a very long time, often near the end of life. This has been of critical importance to Kate and me. It has given us many happy moments.

I wish I could say that I had this knowledge or insight when we first received Kate’s diagnosis. I didn’t. I had no idea of the role her intuitive abilities would play in our lives. All I knew was that we wanted to make the best of the time we had together. We chose to do more of the things we always enjoyed. That included travel, musical and theatrical events, and being with friends. As her caregiver, I took the responsibility of organizing our lives around these things, and we have both been happy.

Over the years I have experienced a change in what gives me pleasure. It is not that I experience any less pleasure from all the other things we have done. It is that I now derive just as much pleasure from seeing Kate enjoy life. There are lots of these things that bring me pleasure. Most of them are little things that mean a lot.

One of those is her sense of beauty. She often comments about the beauty of the trees and shrubbery we see everywhere. That frequently involves the dense growth of trees and brush on our neighbor’s property behind our house. Sometimes it is driving along a highway or the streets here in Knoxville. It also includes the jigsaw puzzles she works on her iPad. She often asks me to look at puzzles she thinks are particularly beautiful or cute. The latter usually involves cats or kittens.

Kate also enjoys her family photo albums. I enjoy watching her leaf through the pages and hearing her comments as she goes through them. That is especially true of the “Big Sister” album her brother Ken made for her. She loves the cover photo of the two of them when they were about four and two. I also enjoy sitting down beside her and going through the album with her.

Recently, she has talked about the beautiful lights she sees at night. Many of these are Christmas lights, but just as often they are the headlights and taillights of the traffic we pass. Often lights obscure what would otherwise be rather mundane retail stores. The other night we walked by a wig shop that is next door to the place we get pizza. She commented on how beautiful it was. I would say it’s a pretty tacky shop in a strip center that is also tacky. It’s hard for me to see the beauty, but I enjoy seeing her enjoy simple things like this. She also takes more pleasure in sunsets than she used to.

She has always taken an interest in small children and babies. That has increased since her diagnosis. She almost always comments on the children she sees when we are out. When we are entering or leaving a restaurant as she did this past Sunday, she frequently stops to speak to a child and the child’s family. She always tells the family that they have an adorable child.

I find that she is less critical in her evaluation of musical and theatrical performances. That’s a good thing in that it enables her to enjoy performances that she might not have enjoyed as much in the past.

Last night I pulled up a series of YouTube videos of Christmas music by the Tabernacle Choir. This was one of those time she was so drawn in by the music that she put down her iPad. That doesn’t happen often. She was happy. I, too, was happy, not just because of the music, but I like to see her happy.

I am also touched when she seems to recognize me and express her appreciation. Yesterday morning she got up early to go to the bathroom. I took her and brought her back. As I pulled the covers over her, she said, “Thank you. You always know what to do.” I said, “I love you.” She said, “I love you too.” She paused and said, “What’s your name?” I found it touching that even though she couldn’t remember my name that she was still able to retain her feeling for me.

During the evening and when we went to bed, she seemed to recognize me as her husband. She didn’t ask my name except once at dinner. When we went to bed, I told her I love her. She said the same to me.

I consider all of the experiences above as good ones. They are the kind of things that make me say we have been able to live well as we live with Alzheimer’s. And all of them can be enjoyed at a time in our journey when Kate’s rational abilities are almost gone. I’m looking forward to more good times.

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A Good Day

Yesterday morning, I walked into our bedroom at 11:00 to check on Kate. She looked like she was asleep but opened her eyes as I approached her. She smiled and asked, “Who are you?” I said, “Would you like to guess?” She said, “My husband?” I said, “We’re off to a good start?” She smiled. She asked my name and then hers. I told her and said I would like to take her to lunch. She said she was hungry but needed her clothes. I pointed them out to her and asked if she wanted to shower. She didn’t. That helped us get ready more quickly than usual.

She was in a good humor and showed a good understanding of my personality. As we walked out of the house, she spit on the floor of the garage. Then she said, “I know that bothers you.” I said, “What makes you think that?” She said, “You like everything just right.” I don’t say much about this, but she frequently says things about me (mostly my OCD tendencies) that are right on target. It continues to amaze me that her feelings for people and things are so strong even as her memory fades.

At home, in the car, at lunch, and the balance of the day, she frequently asked, “Where are we right now?” As I have said before, this is a common experience. It just occurred more yesterday.

The weather this week and next is supposed to be cold, so I wanted to get her a couple of new sweaters. I took her to a department store not far from the restaurant where we had lunch. I had mentioned this before lunch, and she frowned. She doesn’t care much for shopping. It could be that it is too confusing for her to look at her options and make a decision. After lunch I didn’t tell her where we were going. I just drove to the store. We got out and went directly to the sweaters. I picked out three things in the right size and asked how she liked them. They were fine. She wasn’t excited about having new clothes, but I felt better than we have more options now.

We had dinner with friends we had met at Casa Bella on their Broadway nights. We have gotten together with them on several other occasions. Kate was less active in our conversation than the three of us, but she enjoyed herself. We will be with them this coming Monday night at Casa Bella for their annual Christmas dinner and again next Wednesday for a concert a short drive from Knoxville. It’s good for both of us to expand our social connections.

When we got home, we watched a series of YouTube videos of Christmas music sung by the Tabernacle Choir. She was enthralled by them. When I turned off the music, she talked about how much she enjoyed our being able to share in the music together. As I helped her get ready for bed, we had another special moment. She thanked me “for all you do for me.” She said she thought we were a good match for each other.  It wasn’t until she said, “I think we are going to make a good team.” that I realized she was talking as though we were not married but anticipating it. She was optimistic about our future together and stumbled over her words. I said, “Do you mean ‘mature together?’” She said, “Yes, we’re going to mature together.” Then she mentioned that she was going to want children and thought I felt the same way. As we got into bed, she said, “This is the first time I have felt like a real grown up.” She continued to talk about how good she felt about us. It was interesting that she never asked my name, her name, or the names of her parents. She was absorbed in our relationship, and so was I.

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Confused But at Ease

Yesterday I decided to let Kate sleep a little later than the past few days. I checked on her at 11:00 and found that her eyes were open. I asked if she would like to get up. She asked me to give her a little more time. I went back in twenty minutes. She was awake. I told her it was getting close to the time we should leave for lunch and thought she should get up if she could. She indicated she was hungry.

I said something about her having slept later than she had during the time Virginia and Ken were visiting. She said, “Who?” I told her again. She didn’t recognize who I was talking about. I said, “Ken is your brother.” There was no sign of recognition. She said, “What’s his name?” I repeated his name. She usually says she likes the name “Franklin.” This time it meant nothing to her. She did ask where he got his name. I told her from his mother and father and that they were also her parents. She wanted know their names. I told her. She wanted me to repeat their full names. She asked me to do it again. She wanted me to say each name (first, middle, and last) slowly so that she could repeat each one. When I had done this, she wanted to know my name. I told her and told her I am her husband. She was surprised. I told her a little bit about our courtship and then our marriage in her home church. She was still puzzled but accepted what I had said.

Two things struck me about this experience. The first is that it’s one more time that it took her a while to acknowledge that we are married. It’s getting harder for her to remember that. The second is that she continues to trust me as someone she knows. She shows no sign of fear. She seems perfectly comfortable with me. I am grateful for that.

All of this must have taken fifteen minutes. She finally got up a little after noon. She took a shower and then got back in the bed. I got her up just after 1:00. It was 1:45 when we left for lunch. Just before leaving, she walked out of the bathroom with a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush in her hand and asked, “Are we going to stay another night?” I told her we were. Then I took them back to the bathroom.

The rest of the day went quite well. I saw no indication that she forgot that I am her husband although she did ask my name a number of times. At lunch she said something affectionate and immediately asked my name. Then she laughed in recognition of how strange it sounded to pair those two things. Twice she mentioned that she remembered coming to the restaurant with her mother although her mother had never been there.

There is one other thing I haven’t commented on before. The restaurant where we eat each Sunday has several prominent photos of Frank Sinatra, and much of their music features him. One of the photos was taken when he was arrested for seduction and adultery in 1938. Kate asked me about the photo the first time she saw it. I explained and also said something about his mob connections. I didn’t think much of it, but every Sunday she asks me who he is multiple times. When I say his name, she always responds negatively. Today, for example, she said, “He’s a rat.” Then she said, “I don’t know why I feel that way.” It’s another good example of how well she can hold on to feelings while she so easily forgets names and other facts associated with them.

I was about to finish this post when I recalled one other example of the power of feelings. Last night I played several YouTube videos of Christmas music when I suggested it was time to get ready for bed. She got up from her chair to walk to the bathroom. As she did, she commented on the beautiful music and how special it was that we could share it together. Then she asked my name. A few minutes later she called me by name. She hasn’t completely forgotten it yet.

When she came out of the bathroom, she said, “I’m glad we came here.” A few minutes later she asked where we are and how I found “this place.” I told her I couldn’t remember. She thanked me for bringing her here.

As I was helping her get into her night clothes, she said, “I wonder what my mother would think of this. <pause> I think she would approve.” Then she thanked me and said, “I don’t know what I would do without you. I mean it. I really don’t know how I could do it.”

All of these things are signs that she is still able to feel, enjoy, and appreciate things. I am grateful. We have made the most of that ability in the past and will continue to do so even as the names and recognition of people and places recedes from her memory.

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Confused Upon Waking

Adapting to Kate’s sleeping later may be getting more complicated. Yesterday, she was up early. That worked well because she and I had a 1:30 appointment to have our picture taken in connection with the foundation on whose board I served for nine years. Not having to wake her made it less stressful getting her ready so that we could have lunch before then.

Today, however, she slept late again, and it is a day for the sitter. I turned on some music at 10:15. Then at 10:45, I tried to wake her. She wanted to sleep a little longer. At 11:30, I tried again. I sat down beside her on the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at me. She looked confused and asked, “Who are you?” When I told her my name and that I am her husband, she looked shocked. Here is my best effort to describe the conversation we had over the next twenty minutes or so.

RICHARD:              “Yes, I am your husband, Richard, and we have been married for 55 years.”

KATE:                       “What is your name?”

RICHARD:              “Richard Lee Creighton.”

KATE:                       “Say it slower.”

RICHARD:              “Richard <pause> Lee <pause> Creighton.”

KATE:                       “What is my name?”

RICHARD:              “Kate Franklin Creighton.”

KATE:                       “Say it again.”

RICHARD:              “Kate Franklin Creighton.”

KATE:                       “Let me say it. . . Kate . . . Wait a minute; say it again slowly.”

RICHARD:               “Kate <pause> Franklin <pause> Creighton.”

KATE:                       “Kate Franklin Creighton.”

RICHARD:              “Yes, and we have two children.”

KATE:                       “We do? <pause> What are their names?

RICHARD:              “Jesse Brewer and Kevin Creighton.”

KATE:                        “What is your name?”

RICHARD:               “Richard Lee Creighton, and I am your husband.”

KATE:                        “You are?” (with a look of disbelief)

RICHARD:              “It seems like you feel comfortable with me even though you don’t recognize me as your husband.”

KATE:                       “Yes.”

RICHARD:              “That’s probably because we have been together so long. We have been very happy together.”

KATE:                       “We have?” (with her first smile of the conversation)

RICHARD:              “Yes. I think we are a perfect match (she smiled with approval), and we have two children that we are very proud of.”

KATE:                       “We do? Why can’t I remember that?”

RICHARD:             “Well, sometimes our memory fades as we get older.”

KATE:                      “I don’t believe you, but it’s nice of you to say that.” (She is still perceptive.)

RICHARD:            “I love you, and I’d like to take you to lunch.”

KATE:                     “Where are my clothes?”

RICHARD:           “They’re right here on the chair.”

Then I helped her get up. When she was dressed, she said she wanted to go to the  bathroom. She said, ‘Where is it?” There was more than I have quoted above, but I think this captures the essence of the conversation. There was a good bit of repetition, both in her questions and my answers.

From this point on she did not appear to be confused though she was still unable to remember that we have children. That has been common for weeks, perhaps months, now.

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From Confusion to One of Our Tender Moments

This morning Kate didn’t know I was her husband. I am glad to say that had changed by this afternoon. I don’t mean all confusion was gone but that she at least called me by name and said something about our being married. As we drove to dinner at Chalupas, our favorite Mexican restaurant, she said, “Thank you for being so patient.” That began a conversation (“soliloquy” might be more accurate) that lasted for over an hour in the restaurant. There was much repetition as she said things like, “You are so patient with me.” “I like being with you. It’s not just that you take me places.” “I like the way you treat people.” “What would I do without you?” “You’re a natural caregiver.”

The tenderest moment came as we were finishing our meal. By this time I had reached across the table and taken her hand. She looked at me and said something complimentary. Then she started to say something else and stopped. She said, “No, that’s silly.” I pushed her to tell me. At first, she wasn’t going to say. Then she said, “Would you think of marrying me?” Before I could respond, she said again, “Oh, I know that seems silly.” Then I looked into her eyes and said, “I have a surprise for you.” She said, “What?” I said, “We are married, and I love you.” She was immediately touched and tears filled her eyes. Then I was touched, and here we were sitting in a neighborhood Mexican restaurant, a far cry from a romantic place.

Earlier today I read a tweet by Ann Campanella, author of Motherhood: Lost and Found. She said, “Blessings and loss are so often intertwined in our lives.” I replied that Kate and I frequently have such experiences. Little did I know that we would have one of those tonight. The loss of her not remembering that we are married was overshadowed by her ability to appreciate my caring for her, by her proposal of marriage, and her tender response when I told her we are already married.