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A Follow Up on Kate’s Dependence

In addition to the signs of Kate’s dependence I noted yesterday, there are several others I would like to mention. One of those is her telling me on two or three occasions recently, “I want to go wherever you go.” I am not sure but immediately wondered if she might be making reference to the times that I leave her with a sitter. Whatever she meant, it was clear that is looking to me for security.

There are daily variations on “going where you go.” For quite some time, she has wanted me to walk ahead of her when we enter a restaurant or other building because she never knows where we are headed. When we returned home from dinner last night, she said, “I’ll follow you.” That is the second time recently that she has said that. Apparently, she didn’t immediately recognize our home and preferred to depend on me to know where she should go. Recently she asked me to wait for her right outside the restroom in a restaurant. Again, it was a matter of her not knowing how to get back to our table.

Another sign of dependence is the increase in the number of questions she asks. We are having more conversations like one that occurred at dinner last night. She began by asking my brother’s name, something she does occasionally. When I said told her Larry, she asked his last name. After that, she asked what he did for a career. I gave her a more complete answer than usual. She didn’t once tell me to stop or that I was giving her “too much information.” It seemed as though she were very seriously interested and trying understand what I was telling her. She was quiet for a few minutes. The she asked, “Where are we right now?” I said, “Do you mean this restaurant or the city?” She said, “The city.” I told her we were in Knoxville. She said, “So where we live.” I said, “Yes.” Then she asked, “Are we going to live here for the rest of our lives?” This surprised me because she has told so many people that we are moving to Texas. I answered her question by saying, “I’m not sure. I think that will depend on our health. If either of us should have any special health problems, that could lead to a move.” She seemed to accept that without a problem.

When she opens conversations like this, I feel a special closeness to her. Much of that arises from the fact that she doesn’t have anyone else with whom she can talk so personally. When we got into bed last night she was more talkative than usual. This conversation opened with her talking about how fortunate we are with respect to our marriage and our children. That led to her admiration for her mother and how much she had meant to so many people. Then she said, “I can’t even remember her name.” I told her and she said, “I know that. I just couldn’t call it right then.” I said, “Not to worry, I’m always here to help you.” Several years ago, she gave me the nickname “MM” for “My Memory.” I have found that she does not always remember that anymore. That doesn’t surprise me. She is slipping on my real name now. These are touching moments for me. She is so open, so authentic in these conversations. They remind me of what a great responsibility it is to be a caregiver for someone with dementia. They also remind me of how fortunate we are. I know many caregivers have to face far more struggles than we have. I feel for them.

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A Rare Moment

Over the past 2-3 years, Kate has lost her interest in television. I suspect that is because it’s too hard for her to follow. Until the past year or so, she sometimes turned on the Today Show in the morning. She rarely, if ever, turns the TV on these days. I record the PBS Newshour and watch it after we return home from dinner. She sits with me and works on her iPad. I sometimes watch Nature as well. When I do, she occasionally looks up and notices something that catches her eye. Otherwise, she devotes her attention to the puzzles on her iPad.

Thus, it is something of a rarity that we watched some of the Royal wedding that took place on Saturday. No, we didn’t get up at 4:00 a.m. I recorded an ETV/BBC recording that began at 9:00 a.m. After lunch, we watched the portion that involved the wedding itself. Prior to that Kate had been working on her iPad. She put it down when Harry and William took their places in the chapel and didn’t pick it up again until Harry and Meghan departed in their coach.

Neither of us is a follower of the Royals, but both of us took interest in this wedding. I can’t speak for Kate, but events like this have taken a different place in my life since her diagnosis. During the wedding I was reminded of the wedding vows we took that were very much the same ones as those of the Royal Couple. In particular, the words “in sickness and in health . . . till death do us part” were more meaningful now than at the time we said those same words in 1963. I trust that I am now and will continue to honor that commitment. I have no doubts that I will. It was a rare moment for us to be watching TV together and a touching one for me.

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A Little Thing (to me, that is)

Kate was sleeping so well this morning. She didn’t want to get up, yet she did so without complaint. Showers can be confusing and challenging in new places. With that in mind, I turned on the shower for her and heated the water to the temperature I know she likes. She sometimes expresses her emotion with somewhat heavier breathing and an audible, “Oh, oh, oh, . . .” After she had been in the shower a while, that is what I heard. I immediately thought that she might be having a problem turning off the water. I was right. I turned it off. She was so relieved and thanked me. After more than five minutes. Her breathing was still not back to normal. I could still hear her “Oh, oh, ohs.” I have learned from the past to let her gradually come back to normal. She just switched to “OK, OK, OK.” I looked around, and she said, “Just talking to myself.” I said, “Sometimes that helps.” She said, “Right now it does.” And it seems to be working though it hasn’t stopped.

As a caregiver, I am quite aware of the challenges I face. I am less mindful of those Kate faces. Incidents like this remind me. It is remarkable how well she usually gets along.

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She says she likes to be with me. That’s good; I Iike to be with her.

About thirty minutes ago, I got up from my chair in our bedroom where Kate and I were relaxing. As I started for the kitchen, she motioned me to come over to her. When I reached her, she said, “You know that I always prefer to be with you.” I instantly had a tinge of guilt for leaving her with the sitter this afternoon. I told her I always like to be with her too.” Then I said, “Sometimes I need to go to my Rotary club and to the Y.” She said, “I know you do and you should go. I just want you to know I like being with you.” I told her I appreciated that and reminded her that she had always been that way during our entire marriage. I did a lot of traveling. I never sensed that it bothered her at all. She always let me do what I needed to do in connection with my work responsibilities without making me feel guilty. It’s nice to see that is another way in which she hasn’t changed.

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So how am I feeling?

I often think that readers can tell how I am feeling simply by reading my posts, but periodically I feel I should be more direct. Sometimes, I think it really is obvious. Last week was a particularly good week for us. I was very upbeat. This week is different. It isn’t because Kate has not been in a good humor. She has. I think it is her sleeping so late that is bothering me. Today is the third day this week that I have had to wake her. One of those days I got her up so that we could get to lunch and get to an appointment with an orthopedist. Today, I needed to get her up so that we could have lunch before the sitter arrives at 1:00. I waited until 11:00. She was sleeping soundly, but she got up without a fuss. In the early years after her diagnosis, she would not have gotten up so quickly or cooperatively. That changed about 6-12 months ago. I see it as part of a pattern of changes that involve accepting what I tell her.

I often encourage people to recognize the differences from one individual to another. We’re not all alike, but I think the experiences of two friends have had an influence on me. One of those was a former roommate, Charlie Hardwick, with whom Kate and I visited last fall in Dallas. He, too, had dementia. I had been in periodic communication with his wife, Nancy, also a college friend at TCU. Based on what she had said about her husband, I thought he was a little ahead of Kate in the progression of the disease. A few weeks after we had been together, he died. Nancy told me that a short time after our visit, he started sleeping more, and then just went down hill. I was shocked at how rapidly he had declined.

I have another friend whose wife died about five months after I last saw her. I had been keeping up with her husband for several years. I also knew that she was further along in her dementia than Kate, but I never imagined that she would be gone so quickly.

These two situations have sensitized me to the fact that people can can decline quickly. That has caused me to observe Kate even more closely; therefore, the change in her sleep pattern has been of more concern than just my wanting her to get up so that we can have lunch together.

Intellectually, I recognize that what happened to our two friends doesn’t mean Kate will experience the same fate. It is very likely that she has a good bit of time ahead of her. On the other hand, I know that it is also possible that she won’t.

One other thing may account for my melancholy outlook relates to her increasing dependence on me. She appears to be at ease with that. In the past, she has been more insistent on doing things for herself. She is also more cooperative about everything. As I’ve noted in previous posts, this makes life easier for me. The downside is that it makes me sad to see her lose her independence.

An hour ago, I returned home to relieve the sitter. Kate was sound asleep on the sofa. Mary said she said she felt like resting and had been asleep about thirty minutes. That gave me a chance to talk briefly with Mary. It was interesting to hear her talk about Kate. She mentioned how sweet she is. She also told me that they had driven by the high school our children had attended and mentioned it to Mary. It is clear that there are lots of things that she sometimes remembers. I am sure the sight of the school served as the trigger for her to remember that our children went there.

After Mary left, I let her continue to sleep. She slept another twenty minutes before getting up. When she came into the kitchen, she was carrying her cup and iPad. She was ready for Panera. We’ve been here about twenty minutes and will leave for dinner shortly. Because of how long she slept last night and the nap she had this afternoon, I should expect her to be wide awake at bedtime. If she isn’t, that will probably add fuel to my fear that she is entering a period in which she requires more sleep than in the past. I hope not.

Lest my children, who may be reading this, begin to worry about me, I feel compelled to say this. Despite this moment of sadness, I am still getting along well. In this blog I try to convey what our lives are like as we live with Alzheimer’s. Most of our experiences have been good ones. Those experiences are not over. Most other moments will be more uplifting than this one. I believe, however, that I should let you know about the more difficult times. I wouldn’t want anyone to think we have skirted around the challenges. We have those, but, for the most part, we have been able to live full and fulfilling lives throughout this journey. I continue to be very grateful.

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Kate can be playful.

At lunch today, Kate looked at me across the table, smiled, and said with confidence, “Ask me where we are.” I said, “Where?” She said, “McAlister’s.” I said, “Wow.” Then she said, “Well, it wasn’t that hard.” As she said that, she looked at a sign on the table with the name printed on it. I followed that by saying, “I thought you meant what city.” Then she said, “What city?’ I asked, “What do you think?” She answered, “Fort Worth?” I told her Knoxville. She seems never to remember that, and we’ve lived here almost 47 years.

This occurred without any sense of frustration or concern about not knowing where she was. That is quite a contrast with the way she was in the early stages of the disease. She experienced a good bit of frustration then. I suspect that is largely a result of her no longer connecting her poor memory with her diagnosis. I also notice how open she is in acknowledging things she doesn’t remember. It is very natural to ask the names of people we see as well as our children and even me. While it always saddens me to see her memory deteriorate, I am also glad that she can be honest with me. I like to think it is a good thing that she has someone with whom she can be so open.

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More on Sleep

For at least four or five years, Kate has gone to bed before me. When she is ready to go to sleep, I go into the family room where I listen to music and read or work on my computer. Though I sometimes accidentally wake her, she has almost always been asleep when I came to bed. The past three or four nights, however, she has been awake. That in itself is not a problem. I hadn’t thought much about it until two nights ago. Each night she has indicated that she is glad that I finally came to bed. Two nights ago, she said more than that. She said she couldn’t imagine where I was or what I was doing. She sounded somewhat disturbed (not irritated, but afraid). She also went on about it a little longer than I thought would be natural for her.

Her response made me feel as though I had abandoned her. Knowing that she can’t remember, I should have thought about this. The fact that this has been our pattern for so long prevented my even considering that she might get worried or feel she had been left alone. I try not to overthink things like this, but I also don’t want to overlook something that might call for me to make a change in what I am doing.

I have not given her Trazadone for the last three nights. That could easily account for her not getting to sleep. Yesterday, I emailed her doctor about the Trazadone as well as her knee. He said she is already on a low dose, but that I could cut it in half and discontinue it entirely after a week. We’ll see how that goes.

In addition, I might address her concern about being alone by staying in the bedroom with her when she goes to bed. The only complication is that she likes the lights off. I like to have more light. I can easily read a book on my iPad. I usually do that anyway. I started to do that last night, but she assured me she would be all right, and she was. I still found her awake when I got to bed about forty minutes later. She said she was waiting for me. I’ll stay with her tonight.

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Miscellaneous Happenings

I don’t make any effort to write about everything that happens in a day. I tend to post items that in one way or another seem noteworthy to me. I should add that there are simply too many things to comment on in a given day. I can’t remember them all. I tend to pick up on things that are either typical or unusual. The things I noticed yesterday fall in between these two extremes.

We began the day with conflicting signs of Kate’s expressing independence or dependence. That started with getting dressed. Normally, I am in the kitchen (my “office”) when she gets up, takes her shower, and dresses. This morning I went back o the bedroom to check on her, she had just gotten out of the shower and was beginning to get dressed. Before walking into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I noticed that she was about to put on her pants. She was looking carefully to see which was the front and which was the back. On quite a few occasions, I have noticed that her pants were on backwards. A few times I have told her and given her the choice as to whether or not she takes them off and puts them back on the right way. This was my first time to watch her work so hard to get it right. It took a while. She ended up taking them off and putting them back on. She must have put them on the backwards. This is a situation in which she could have asked for my help. She didn’t, and I thought I should give her a chance to do it herself. I believe I made the right decision. She had to work, but she got. That is always best.

I put her morning meds on the island in the kitchen. A little later she walked in dressed and ready for Panera. I told her the meds were on the island. She said, “I can see that.” This is an instance in which she felt she didn’t need or want my help. From past experience, I know that she often doesn’t see them.

I noticed that she was carrying a pair of socks that are not the ones normally kept in her sock drawer. As we got ready to leave, she asked with hand signals if she should take them with her. I told her that would be fine. I didn’t even try to imagine why she wanted to take them. She was already wearing socks. Once we were in the car, she stuffed them into a side pocket of her door.

Before getting out of the car at Panera, she said, “I’ll get a table, and I’ll let you take care of everything else.” Of course, this is what I do every morning except that I also get the table and put her iPad at her place. She occasionally does something similar at restaurants. She says, “Order for me.” Once again, I always order for her. I was surprised the other night when the server told us the entrée special, and Kate immediately said, “That’s what I want.” It was a good choice too. I wish I had gotten it myself.

Only one thing at lunch was particularly worth noting. As we were eating, she had made a comment about being glad she had married me. Then she asked, “What is your name?” I told her. Then she asked, “What is your last name.” That was followed by asking me her father’s name. She didn’t say anything following these questions and their answers. This has happened a number of times. At first, I thought she was joking. Now I think the link between my name and me is beginning to weaken. Clearly, she still knows me and that we are married, but the label is not as strong as it used to be.

As we got in the car after lunch, she got her socks out of the pocket in the door as well as some used paper towels and said, “Are we turning the car in?” I told her no that this was our car. A few minutes later, she unfolded the socks she had carefully folded earlier and said, “I want to take these with us?” I can’t be sure, but I think she meant “when we move to Texas.” She still brings that up periodically even though we have no plans to move. Then she told me they were winter socks and would need them.

Just before we arrived at home, she told me that she was going to take a nap if that was all right with me. I told her that would be fine. Then she told me not to let her rest too long because she wanted to be able to go to sleep tonight. A few minutes later we drove into our driveway. She asked me to stop and let her out. She wanted to work in the yard. She said she wouldn’t stay long. That means no nap today. That is no problem. I don’t think she needed it anyway. Besides that, she doesn’t usually go to sleep.

She worked outside for about an hour. Periodically, I looked out to see what she was doing. I noticed that she was pulling leaves off our Japanese Red Maple from which she had not pulled off all the leaves before winter. It was coming back nicely. Like last week when she worked in the yard for the first time in months, I had very mixed feelings. I was glad to see her enjoying herself outside. Over the years, this has been her most enjoyable activity. On the other hand, I love the tree and hate to see it denuded in the same way as the rest of our shrubbery. The good part is that it is tall enough that she can’t reach most of the leaves.

After coming in the house for a few minutes, she was ready to leave again. I packed up my computer and her iPad and got cups for each of us, and we were off to Barnes & Noble. When we drove out of the driveway, I looked at the Red Maple. She had removed all the leaves on the lower branches.

On the way to Barnes & Noble, I turned on a Ronnie Milsap album. Sometime in the 80s, we attended a concert of his. Kate had enjoyed him, and I bought the CD. I reminded her of this. Moments later, she asked me his name. I told her, and she said, “I’m sorry; I know I keep asking you this?” I told her she could ask me as many times as she wants, that I am glad to be able to answer her. She thanked me.

Tonight, after returning home from dinner, she sat in her chair in our bedroom working on her iPad. I had turned on a recording of CBS Sunday Morning. During one of the segments, she stopped and watched the TV. When it was over, she asked if she could use her iPad. As always, I said yes. Later, she asked if she should get ready for bed. I told her that would be fine. Once again, we had had a good day.

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A Good Day Even if We Didn’t Do Anything Special

Kate and I have a lot of good days. Yesterday was one of them. Often they are good because of things we have done together, things like attending musical or theatrical performances or spending time with friends or family. Yesterday, we didn’t do anything special; we just did our usual things.

Kate started the day in a very good humor. When she came into the kitchen she showed no sign of being tired. She was just ready for a nice day. She was wearing a very nice jacket that didn’t match her everyday clothes. I started to suggest that she wear another sweater or jacket, but I decided against it.

As we drove to Panera, she teased me about something. Sometimes it doesn’t sound like teasing. In this case, it was just very natural playfulness. While at Panera, she brought up the names of two people whose names she often forgets. One is my brother, Larry. The other is our good friend, Tom Robinson. She asked me the names of their wives, and said, “I don’t know why I can never remember them?” I hear this periodically. That is one of the reasons I believe she no longer connects her symptoms with her Alzheimers, and I see no reason to point it out.

I had arranged for the sitter to come an hour earlier so that I could attend a United Way lunch meeting. We didn’t get to Panera until thirty minutes before the sitter was to arrive at home. I called and asked that she meet us at Panera. It wasn’t until about ten minutes before the sitter arrived that I told Kate I was going to be leaving. I explained that the sitter was coming to be with her. She took that very naturally without any appearance of disappointment or dissatisfaction. Of course, that made me feel good about leaving. When the sitter walked up to our table, Kate greeted her warmly. I left them to decide how long they stayed and what they would do after that.

When I arrived back home, Kate was resting on the sofa while the sitter was watching television. I chatted with the two of them for a few minutes. When the sitter got up to leave, I thanked her. Kate thanked her as well.

I asked Kate if she would like to go to Barnes & Nobel. I knew she would say yes. She didn’t disappoint me. As we prepared to leave, I saw that she was wearing a pair of brown shoes and carrying the black shoes she had been wearing. I asked if she were going to wear the black ones. She asked what I thought. I told her I thought the black would look better. She accepted that without any hint that she resented my telling her. She changed, and we left. We stopped by the bank for me to make a deposit. I left Kate in the car. The people in line ahead of me had some special situations that required a good bit of time. I apologized to Kate for taking so long. She said it didn’t seem that long.

After leaving Barnes & Noble, we went to Chalupas for dinner. We’ve had a good bit of rain yesterday, and I wondered if it might rain again today. I tried to check the weather report on my phone, but it took too long for the app to open. I decided to check Facebook just to see if it might have been a problem with the cellular connection. When I did, I saw that one of Kate’s cousins had posted something about an arithmetic book that their second grade teacher had written and is now available on Amazon. Before I could read the name of the teacher, Kate said it. Her eyes brightened and she said she wanted to get the book. I told her we would. Then she started talking about her teacher and that she had remembered the teacher’s taking an interest in her. She has been losing many of her long-term memories, so I enjoyed seeing this memory come back to her and that she felt so good.

Just before we left Chalupas, she pointed to her glass and asked, “Ours or theirs?” I told her the glasses belonged to the restaurant. On two or three other occasions she has started to leave with one. The first time the owner followed us outside and diplomatically asked if she would like a cup to take away cup. The other time or two I caught her before we got out the door.

In the car on the way home she started talking about our marriage and how many things we shared in common. Then she said she was tired and thought she would crash when she got home. She asked if that would be all right. I told her that would be fine, that she could do whatever she liked. She could just relax. She said, “That’s what I like about you. You are so understanding.” And she wasn’t being sarcastic. (I realize that when I report things like this, it can seem very self-serving. My intent is to convey her own perceptions and that she is still able to respond to the way she is treated. When she says these things, to me it is like saying, “I’m still here. Please don’t forget that.”

After we got home, she walked through the family room. Just before she going through the door to the back of the house where the bedrooms are located, she asked, “Which way do I go?” I walked toward her. Before I could answer, she said, “I usually go this way.” She was pointing to our bedroom. I said, “That’s it.”

A few minutes later she went to her room, got her robe and asked (using hand signals) if she should put it on. I told her she could. She took her nightly meds that I had put on her bedside table. Then she asked again in hand signals if she should put on her robe. Again, I told her that would be fine. In another minute, she called to me for help. I noticed that she was struggling with her robe. She asked if she had it inside out. As I went over to help, she said she had figured it out. It turns out that she had put her right arm in the left sleeve of the robe. She worked on her iPad for 10-15 minutes, and then called it a night.

We hadn’t done anything special, but it was a good day for both of us. She was in a good humor every minute of the day. I hope my account of our communication properly conveys the change that has been in process over a long period of time. She seems to be looking to me more as a partner in her journey. She displays an element of trust that reinforces my efforts as her caregiver. I know that not all caregivers are as fortunate. So as I’ve said before, if Kate’s had a good day, it’s been a good day for me. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

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The Struggle for Independence

Kate has never liked being dependent on others, not even before Alzheimer’s. Of course, none of us is ever completely independent. All of us depend on others in one way or another. We generally pick and choose those things we will do for ourselves and those we would prefer for others to take car of for us.

The first big blow to her independence came when she stopped driving. That was four years ago this past December after an accident in which she totaled her car. You might think that she would be used to being without a car by now. Not so. She still occasionally says, “How would you feel if you had to depend on me to take you everywhere?” That happened just today.

I am reminded that her initial desire to keep her diagnosis private was largely motivated by her not wanting to be treated as a patient. She wanted to be treated like anyone else. In a way, that was an expression of her desire not to be dependent on others.

There are areas where she has worked hard to assert her independence. Among those, the one that is most noteworthy involves her clothes. Within two or three years of her diagnosis she was not selecting clothes that she would have worn before her Alzheimer’s. At that point, I was new to dealing with such things and would let her know that what she was wearing was either soiled or inappropriate for a particular occasion. She often resisted my suggestions. I have learned to be more accepting, but I still intervene depending on just how soiled or inappropriate her attire. Over time we have both done some accommodating, but she has done more. That means she has become more dependent on me.

This dependence has evolved and has often been her own choice and not mine. There are now times she specifically asks me to get her something to wear. This seems to occur when she has looked for something but hasn’t found anything she thought was right. It is almost as if she has been overwhelmed by the choices. There are a lot of clothes in her closet. Although I have gotten rid of many things that no longer fit, I have also added many new clothes. Whatever the cause, it is clear that she sometimes wants my help.

The same thing is true about dressing. I would never have thought about helping her dress until she has struggled with getting them on. I generally ask if she needs help. Often she says she doesn’t. Other times she says she does.
One other area in which she asserts her independence involves my taking her hand when we go up or down stairs or curbs. Sometimes she wants my hand. Many times she does not, and she often refuses sternly. I always do what she wants, but I try to watch her closely in these situations to see if she needs help.

I see other signs that she may be working hard to maintain a sense of independence. For example, she is more careful now than three or four years ago when it comes to maintaining a measure of order with her clothes. She no longer lets her clothes accumulate on the furniture and floor of the bedrooms. In addition, she is trying to make up our bed each morning. It’s not done quite the way she would have done it before her Alzheimer’s, but it is immeasurably better than in the past few years.

As time has passed, she has become increasingly unsure of what she should do and depends on me to guide her. This almost never involves what she should wear. It does involve things like “Should I get ready for bed?” “Should I go to bed now?” or “Should I take my cup into the restaurant?” It also includes some things for which I would never think she needs my guidance or permission. These include things like “May I use my iPad?” and “May I take my shoes off?” All of these questions are usually asked via hand signals rather than spoken words. The latter two questions occurred just a few minutes ago.

Forty-five Minutes Later

I took a break to take a shower. Before I did, Kate said she was going to bed. Then she said, “What should I wear?” I said, “Would you like me to get you something?” She said yes. In this particular case, I know she is tired and believes it is simply easier for me to get something for her than to do it herself. In other words, this is a time when she would rather be dependent. She is working hard to retain independence related to things which she believes she can do and wants to do. This is not really any different than what each one of us does. We pick and choose, but we don’t want to feel dependent.

That raises a related question. How we feel about these changes? I must confess that I really don’t know how she feels. Since she doesn’t like to discuss her Alzheimer’s and its consequences, I can only infer from what I observe. That said, I believe the change to greater dependency is more difficult for her than for me. I say that for two reasons. First, she reacts so strongly when I attempt to help her with something that she feels she can and wants to do for herself. Second, I imagine that if I were the one giving up my independence in the same way, I would hate it.

As for me, her becoming more dependent actually makes it easier for me to take care of her. There is less hassle when I am in control. On the other hand, I don’t like seeing her becoming more dependent. It makes me sad each time I recognize that she has crossed another marker on her journey. I would much rather deal with the stresses of caregiving than experience the sadness that accompanies Alzheimer’s. Losing one’s spouse is really losing a part of oneself. Next month we will celebrate our 55th wedding anniversary. We were so innocent as we faced the future together. Like other couples we were wildly enthusiastic about the future; however, we couldn’t begin to imagine the abundance of joy and good fortune that lay ahead. I am satisfied that we have invested wisely in the time we have had together and confident that, together, we will weather the storm that awaits us.