Posted on

No “Sleeping-In” Yesterday

Following two consecutive days of not wanting to get up, Kate awoke early yesterday and wanted “to get out’a here.” Except for believing she was in an unfamiliar place, she was in a good mood. For me, one of the good things about her wanting to get away is that it makes it easier and faster to get her up and dressed. We were at Panera before 10:30. She worked on her iPad but focused mainly on her blueberry muffin and wanted another. I told her we would be going to lunch in thirty minutes and asked if she could wait. She was agreeable.

The afternoon was our usual one. She rested a couple of hours. Then I suggested we look at a photo album of pictures taken when our children were pre-school age. We did that for a while before our daughter called. We had a nice conversation and Kate handled it well. After the call, we returned to the photo album, but Kate wanted to rest a little longer.

When I suggested our going to dinner, she didn’t hesitate getting up. That is normal. I don’t recall her ever having trouble getting up after resting in the family room in the afternoon. I wish I could say that about the morning when she is in bed.

She was confused about where she was as well as who I was but wasn’t disturbed. She asked my name and asked if we would be coming back for the night. She also said a few other things that made it clear she thought we were in someone else’s house.

At dinner something came up that made me mention our marriage. Kate was shocked. I was surprised at her reaction because we had been talking so comfortably about our relationship. It wasn’t simply that she was shocked. She couldn’t imagine how it was possible that she could have forgotten something like that. Fortunately, I was able to divert her attention. She was fine after that, but I felt bad. I intend to be more careful about that in the future. I think I have been unconsciously trying to keep that memory alive. Now I am beginning to believe that it may be time to let it go. I’ll just assume that she doesn’t remember and not try to remind her. There are enough incidental reminders when we browse through her photo books and interact with other people.

We had one of those middle-of-the-night incidents at 1:30 this morning. I woke up as Kate sat up on the side of the bed. I got up and went around to her side to help her up. She seemed wide awake and cheerfully greeted me like someone she might have recognized but not known. It wasn’t long before she said, “Who are you?” I told her my name but said nothing of our relationship. She didn’t ask.

I asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom. She didn’t. She asked about “the others.” I told her we were the only ones “here.” She seemed surprised but didn’t question me. I asked again if she would like to use the bathroom. She asked where it was. I told her I would show her. We usually hold hands, but she didn’t want to this time.

When we reached the bathroom, I stepped in and turned around to direct her to the toilet. She showed no interest in coming in. Instead, she was obsessed with what time she should “be there.” I never found out where “there” was, but it was important to her. I told her she didn’t need to be there until “1:00 tomorrow.” She was surprised and asked about today. I told her it was the middle of the night and that she would need her sleep to be ready for tomorrow. She went back to the question “What time do I have to be there?” We went through a repetition my standard answer and her standard question. A couple of times she asked what time she would have to leave, but her emphasis was on what time she had to be there. She couldn’t remember and kept asking.

Finally, she used the toilet. When she was finished, she noticed two pictures on the top of a nearby cabinet. One was a photo of my mom and me. She pointed to my mom and wanted to know who she was. When I told her who she was, she said, “I remember her. She is very nice.” Then she asked about my sister. I don’t have a sister but said she was fine. Then she said my sister was very nice and that she liked her. Before getting back to bed, she commented several other times about my mom and sister and how nice they were.

Once in bed, she was still wide awake for a short time. I tried not to encourage much talking, and she soon drifted off to sleep. She is still sleeping as I finish this entry. On the video cam I just saw her moving a few minutes ago, I will check on her and see if she is ready to get up. That would be nice. I don’t have Rotary today, and the sitter is coming at 1:00 rather than noon. If she gets up soon, we would be able to have lunch together. That would be a good way to start the week.

Posted on

Yesterday Afternoon and Evening

I am glad to report that the afternoon and evening went quite well yesterday. Kate got up from her late-morning rest and we had a very nice lunch and made it back for her 1:30 hair appointment without having to rush. Leisurely going about our daily activities works best for both of us.

We were back home before a big rain storm hit the area. It was so bad that I called the restaurant to make sure the program was still on for the night. It was. I told the woman on the phone that we would come if the rain slackened; otherwise, we would stay at home. As it turned out, the rain was lighter and we went despite the nasty weather conditions. It turned out to be fine. The crowd was a little lighter, but the program was excellent. Kate sat beside the 95-year-old woman who used to run the restaurant before her daughter took over years ago. Another couple we had not met before sat across from us. Kate didn’t participate much, but I don’t think she felt left out. We both enjoyed the evening.

During the afternoon and after we returned home, she was talkative but seemed to have more trouble expressing herself than usual. She talked for an extended period before dinner. I don’t even remember what she talked about. That may have been because I couldn’t understand her. She used a lot of wrong words and often acknowledged it. In addition, her comments were filled gestures, “You knows,” and vague words like “things,” or simply “da, da, das.”

The other talkative period lasted approximately thirty minutes as I was trying to get ready for a shower. Everything had been going smoothly. She had been in a cheerful mood the whole day. That continued as I started helping her get ready for bed. We got to the part where it was time for her to remove her pants, and she refused. I explained that she hadn’t put on her nighttime underwear. That had no impact. I tried to gently coax her and finally said something that changed the tone of our interaction. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I apologized and suggested we step back and think about our relationship. I conveyed my love for her and mentioned that we have always respected each other and that my only desire was to help her.

She immediately changed her tone of voice and began a lengthy conversation (soliloquy). She started talking about our relationship and how much she appreciated what I do for her. Then she began to talk about how we could help a boy in need of something. I only picked up that he had a sister but little else. It was impossible for me to understand. All I can say is that she talked for thirty minutes and was strong in her belief that she and I together would be able to help him.

Posted on

A Day of Surprises

After the experiences of the past two days, I was hopeful that yesterday would be better. Before telling you about it, I’ll “cut to the chase” and let you know that it was better in that she was able to get up and out during the day. I don’t mean to say that Kate failed to show any of her recent symptoms. In fact, it was a day of multiple surprises.

It started early. I awoke at 4:15 to go to the bathroom. After I returned to bed, Kate was cold and needed help getting the covers over her. I got up and took care of it. She chatted a little while. I must have been awake thirty to forty-five minutes. At 6:00, she wanted to go to the bathroom. Normally, I would have gotten up after getting her to bed again, but I decided to rest a little longer. I slept until 7:15.

About 8:30, I noticed on the video cam that she was getting up. I got to her and found that she seemed groggy but otherwise quite normal. She responded to me as though he knew me as her husband, but she wanted to go home. I helped her to the bathroom. She was a bit unsteady and very insecure, actually frightened that she might fall and wanted to hold my hand. Once in the bathroom, she said, “Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me.” I said, “You think something’s wrong?” She laughed and said, “Well, I think everybody wonders that.” I was glad that she said this in a way that convey no sense of concern or anxiety. She was simply being candid and then making light of it.

After she was dressed, she asked if she could lie down again. I suggested we go to the family room so that she could use the recliner. She has increasing difficulty getting up from a lying or sitting position. The recliner makes that easy although it scares her. I thought she might go back to sleep for a while and did not want to experience yesterday’s problem. I went to the kitchen and got her a breakfast bar. Most of the time when she rests I play music that is especially relaxing. I was glad that I did something different. I played albums of My Fair Lady, Oklahoma, and Sound of Music. She remained awake through all of it.

About 45 minutes before I wanted to leave for lunch, I asked if she would like to look at one of her photo books. She did, and we spent only a few minutes before she said she wanted to lie down on the sofa and rest. I got her up after thirty or forty minutes without a problem. She was ready to eat.

She was very talkative in the car and at lunch. She was so talkative that I didn’t play any music going to or coming back from lunch. I didn’t always understand what she was talking about, but much of it involved her feelings about our marriage.

She rested, but did not sleep, for almost three hours in the afternoon. I played music, but she was especially taken with the house, especially the family room where we were seated and the trees outside. This was the first time I recall her expressing enthusiasm for the branches of trees without their leaves that make up most of the trees on our neighbor’s property behind our house. She asked me a number of questions that made it clear that she had no idea it was our house. I didn’t correct her.

Something unusual happened late in the afternoon. I had asked if she would like me to read to her. She wasn’t enthusiastic, but I suggested I read The Velveteen Rabbit and told her I would stop if she wasn’t interested. I read for about five minutes. She wasn’t paying attention. I asked if she wanted me to stop. She did and said she wanted to talk with me about something serious. The expression on her face also conveyed an even more serious issue was confronting her. It turns out that she was very concerned about her mother who died fourteen years ago. Kate wanted me to know that she was thinking of moving to Fort Worth to take care of her. Although everything she said was rooted in a delusion, I was astounded by the rational way she approached the topic. She talked about her various options and why they wouldn’t work. She said her mother had many friends who could help but outlined reasons that would not work. Then she talked about paid caregivers and suggested they would never deliver the kind of care she could provide. She also talked about her mother’s condition and noted that sometimes she was rather “clear-headed” (I don’t remember the exact words she used.) and other times she wasn’t. The mentioned the nature of the mother-daughter relationship that would enable her to provide better care than anyone else.

She talked continuously for a good thirty to forty-five minutes. Most of that time she did not realize she was talking to me. I got the impression she thought I was in another room and would be back soon. Several times she mentioned that she would need to talk with me about a possible move to Texas. I was eager for us to leave for dinner so that we could get back for the Super Bowl, but she kept on talking.

(My interest in watching the Super Bowl is another surprise of the day. Although I have caught a few portions of a couple of games this season, I haven’t watched a pro game all season. I am, however, aware of the success of the Chiefs’ quarterback, Mahomes, and have been impressed that a man as young as he is could attain such stature so quickly. I think, however, that the real reason I was interested was that I just wanted to relax and amuse myself for a short time.)

I was finally able to stop her by suggesting we talk about this over dinner. She accepted, and we went to Panera. It was close, and I figured we could get back in time for the game. During the short car ride to the restaurant and at the table before we got our food, she continued to talk about somebody she thought had been at the house and was going to meet us at Panera. Her attention was diverted when we got our food, and I didn’t hear anything more about the issue.

Another problem developed as we left the restaurant. Although she had been getting along pretty well, she was still a little unsteady on her feet. She wanted to take her drink with her. As we walked out to the parking lot, we had to step down from a curb. Normally, I use two hands to help her, but I had her drink in one hand. As she stepped down her weight shifted, and she lost her balance and fell. Fortunately, it was a gentle fall. The problem was getting her up. At first, I tried to lift her from the front. That failed miserably. Then I got behind her and put one arm under her right arm and the other under her left arm and lifted. Success.

The day was not over yet. Once we were home, it looked like things were moving smoothly. She wanted to get ready for bed. I wanted to watch the game. I got her to the bathroom and had her toothbrush ready for her. After that, we ran into a problem. She forgot to brush her teeth and got in bed. She hadn’t taken her medicine or put on her nightgown. That was a time when she wanted to work on her hair. I suggested that she get her teeth brushed and put on her nightgown. Taking her daily medications is becoming more difficult. She often drops them. Sometimes she puts them in her mouth but doesn’t swallow them. I have to monitor this carefully and give her one at a time. Something I did or said caused her to be angry with me. She told me to shut up, and I did something I had never done before. I very gently said, “I love you, and I know you didn’t mean to say that. We’re both frustrated, but we need to respect each other.” She followed that by speaking back to me in the same tone of voice and agreed that we do need to respect each other. She went on to say that sometimes it seems like I am trying to control everything she does. I was somewhat startled by the rational, honest and loving way she responded. Getting her ready and into bed was easy after that.

It was halftime at the game. I took my shower and left the game on. When I came back the second half was about to begin. I sat down to watch. A little later, Kate said something like, “Wow, this is really something.” I thought she must be dreaming. When I looked, I saw that she was sitting with her head elevated and looking at the TV. I asked if she was enjoying the game. She enthusiastically said yes. I know she had no idea who was playing nor could she follow what was happening. I don’t know why she seemed so engaged with the game. Could it have been an effort to connect with me in a positive way after the tiff we had earlier? Was she trying somehow to relate to me? I don’t know. Her response to the game was certainly unusual.

That wasn’t the last of the day’s surprises. After the game, I got in bed and moved close to Kate. She was still awake and seemed concerned. I said, “What’s wrong?” She said, “I don’t know. I’m scared.” I remained close to her and tried to comfort her. This had to have been one of those times she was disturbed about not knowing anything, but the only thing she said that would suggest that was asking who I was. I gave her my name and told her I wasn’t sure what was wrong but that I would always be with her and that the two of us together would be able to handle anything that comes up.

Posted on

Is It Really Possible to Have a Good Day During the Late Stage of Alzheimer’s?

I am frequently concerned that I paint too rosy a picture of what living with Alzheimer’s is like for us. We, especially Kate, experience challenges, frustration, and stress. I don’t know how we could live with Alzheimer’s any other way; however, I believe it is important to communicate the good things that we can still enjoy. Yes, we can even have a “Good Day” at this stage of the disease. I always feel the need to reiterate that doesn’t necessarily mean that Kate’s memory is better or that she isn’t confused. I mean that we have enjoyed, not just a moment, but the day.

Yesterday was one of those. Several things may have accounted for that. She awoke in a good mood. In addition, we were not rushed at all. Her insecurity is also increasing. She seemed more dependent than usual. Finally, we talked a lot about our relationship and our love for each other.

She was also up early again, and we went to Panera and returned home for her to rest an hour before leaving for lunch. It was a very leisurely morning. We went to the Sunset Café for lunch. It’s a cut above most of the other restaurants we visit and they always save a corner table in the bar for us. It’s a quiet place and seems a little more private because the bar is quite small, only three other tables, and not very active at lunch. The setting makes it easy to engage in conversation. Kate and I took advantage of that. We have been eating there for several years and have gotten to know the hostesses, several servers, and shift managers, all of whom stop by our table to say hello. It provides the kind of social occasion Kate can easily handle.

When we returned home, she wanted to rest and did so for almost three hours before we got ready for dinner at Casa Bella. They were having a repeat of the Broadway program we heard last week, so I thought it might be nice to eat  in the front section of the restaurant away from the music. This is where we had eaten most often before they started their music nights. We have shared happy and sad moments there over the years. Last night was one of the happy ones.

We talked almost entirely about our relationship, our families, and how much we have to be grateful for. We also dealt with how we would feel if we lost the other through death. We do this periodically. Both of us feel we would like to die first so as not to live without the other. I feel good when we are able to talk about these things because I often think about her death and know that the odds of my living without her are significantly higher than the other way around. Of course, she doesn’t know that which magnifies her fear of my dying first and leaving her alone. She is very insecure now. She recognizes how difficult it is for her to do anything on her own.

Some might take this kind of conversation to be sad. It is, but there is another side to it. When we talk like this, we also feel very close. Each of us recognizes the depth of our love for the other in a way that doesn’t occur in the course of our daily routine. Of course, we approach this topic from different perspectives. I have a better idea of what is ahead for her. On the other hand, she is keenly aware that something is wrong with her as well as her dependency on me. I believe that when we have discussions like this we are uniting in a way that strengthens each of us. Her trust in me serves to reinforce my desire to care for her, and she is comforted by my assurances that I will be with her all the way.

It could have been an ordinary day. We didn’t do anything extraordinary. But it was a day in which we focused heavily on what we mean to each other. That made it special. It was a “Good Day.”

Posted on

Increasing Dependence

I have often commented on Kate’s dependence on me with respect to finding the bathroom, the full variety of bathroom activities, dressing, and helping with most other activities of daily living (ADLs). That continues, but I have observed other ways in which she is dependent. I’d sum it up by saying they involve my being a security blanket.

I mentioned one of those in my previous post when she didn’t want to go to lunch with the friend I had asked to take her. She has been to lunch with her on a number of occasions before and after her diagnosis, and, yet, she wouldn’t agree to go with her yesterday.

Yesterday she had a similar experience with the sitter. This one was with the sitter who has been with her more than two years. Kate wanted to rest after lunch, just fifteen minutes before Mary arrived. That’s not unusual. When I returned four hours later, she was still resting in her recliner although awake. I asked Mary if she had been there the whole time. She had. Mary said, she has encouraged her to get up, but Kate didn’t want to.

After Mary left, she asked me to show her to the bathroom. As we walked hand in hand, she expressed her feelings more clearly than she usually does. She conveyed that she liked Mary, but she said, “It’s good to be with somebody you really know.” She was relieved that I was home. When we reached the bathroom, I started to leave. Then she asked me to stay in case she needed help with anything. I frequently sense that she is at ease with me even when she doesn’t know my name or our relationship. This time, however, it seemed like she both knew me and that she was very grateful I was home.

As she finished washing her hands, I started toward the kitchen. When she came out of the bathroom, she didn’t see me and called to me. I went back to her. She was so relieved when she saw me that she was almost in tears.

We went to dinner at a nearby pizza place. Before I stepped away from the table to pay for our meal, I told her I was going to pay and would be back. I know she can’t remember, but there was no one ahead of me. In addition, The check out wasn’t too far from our table, and she has never been uneasy before. As I approached the table after paying, I saw that she had a worried look on her face and was looking all around for me. When I walked up to her, she said, “I am looking for my husband.” When she looked more closely, she recognized me. Again, it was an emotional experience for her.

Here is my own interpretation of what’s happening. She is sinking deeper into a state in which she can’t remember anything. That makes her afraid. I am the one who is most often with her and helps her. Of course, we also have a bond that is very strong after fifty-six years of marriage. When you put these things together, it’s not difficult to see why she might feel dependent. This has an advantage with respect to helping her with so many things. She still likes to retain some independence, and I think that is a good thing. Normally, however, she is usually receptive to me help. That makes caring for her much easier.

Posted on

Continued Mixture of Confusion and Happiness

Yesterday morning as I was taking my walk around 7:20, I heard Kate scream. I went to the room. She was upset but not as much as I would have expected from her scream. I am guessing she must have had a bad dream because she acted like she wanted to go back to sleep. I asked if he would like me to stay with her. She did, and I remained in the bedroom for about thirty minutes. Then I continued my walk.

She quickly went back to sleep and didn’t wake up until 10:20. At that time I heard her say, “Hey.” Her voice was soft, and I wasn’t sure that I had heard her. When I reached her, she confirmed that she had called. We talked a few minutes, and she seemed all right. Like the day before, I soon learned that she was confused. Before getting out of bed, she said, “Who are you?” I gave her my name told her that I was her husband. She reacted strongly to that, and I said, “I am a good friend, and I can help you with anything you need.”

We walked to the bathroom, but she was a little uneasy with me when she used the toilet and when she showered. She was resistant to my helping with her shower. She said, “Don’t ever tell anyone about this?”

The shower turned out to be good therapy. She enjoyed it and said she felt better when she got out. She was still guarded. She was comfortable enough to let me help, but she was also trying to keep her distance from me. A funny thing happened as I helped her dry off and get dressed. As she often does after a shower, she wanted to lie down on the bed. Then she surprised me by saying, “Don’t forget my (unclear, couldn’t think of the right word).” She pointed to her toes. She had already run her fingers in between each toe. Now she wanted me to do it.

When we left for lunch, she seemed quite comfortable with me, but I don’t think she recognized me as her husband. During lunch, I eased into some comments that would suggest we had known each other a long time. Our server told us she would be leaving to spend a semester in Berlin. I mentioned that we had visited there and that she would like it.

When she stepped away, I talked to Kate about some of the places we had traveled. I deliberately failed to mention our marriage. She seemed to accept what I said without any concern or confusion or fear that she didn’t remember these experiences. At little later, I mentioned that our son was planning a trip to see us. She seemed fine. I never asked if she knew I was her husband.

We had a very brief sad moment in the car on the way home. We had stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. As I came to the exit from the parking lot, she saw a stop sign. She tried to read it but couldn’t. I told her it said, “Stop.” She said, “What’s that?” I explained. She looked sad and said, “I don’t like to be a ‘duppy.’” She meant “dummy,” of course. I said, “You’re not a dummy.” You’re a smart gal.” She got excited and said, “Hey, and I didn’t even pay you to say that.” It’s been almost nine years since her diagnosis. She forgot a long time ago that she has Alzheimer’s, but she still knows at this late stage that she’s “not right.” She wants to be but can’t. That’s sad.

That moment really was brief. It lasted only minute. When we got home, she rested for a couple of hours in her recliner. As usual, her eyes were open off and on. I’m not sure how much she actually slept. I do know that she was quite calm and seemed happy. Halfway through her rest, I asked her if she was relaxed. She was. I told her I was as well.

A short time later, she accepted my offer to read something to her. This time I chose something different. I picked up the photo book that she and her brother had made in the early days after diagnosis. It focuses on her mother’s family who lived in Battle Creek. At the end of the book there is a section that focuses on the Kellogg brothers, Battle Creek as “Cereal City,” and the Battle Creek Sanitarium where Kate’s grandfather was a doctor. I read for about forty-five minutes. She was interested and asked me to re-read much of it as she tried to take in all the information. It had been a long time since I had read it, but I will put this on my list of things to read more frequently.

Our dinner and time at home afterwards were good as usual. With all the changes that are going on, I still find that afternoons and evenings are the most predictably good times for us. That’s a nice way to finish the day.

Posted on

An Example of Kate’s Insight

Kate and I had an unusually good time at lunch yesterday. I commented on how relaxed she looked. She said she was, and I told her I was as well. Then I said, “I think that’s because we didn’t have to rush to get here.” I went on to say that I like to be punctual and am least relaxed when I am pressed for time. I don’t remember exactly what she said, but here is the meaning. “I like it that when you are in a hurry. You try not to make me think you are.” She knows me pretty well. Alzheimer’s hasn’t taken that away.

Posted on

She Needs and Appreciates Me

I had just finished my walk and was getting ready to complete a blog post yesterday morning when I heard Kate’s voice over the video cam. I went to her. She said, “I am glad to see you.” I said, “I’m glad to see you.” Then I asked if there was anything I could do for her. She said, “Yes,” but she didn’t say what. She was pretty groggy. I asked if she would like to go to the bathroom. She said, “Not right now.” I said, “It sounds like you would like to rest some more.” She nodded. I started to say that I would be in the kitchen when she said, “Don’t leave me. I like you to be here.” I said, “How about my going to the kitchen and getting my things and coming back and sitting in the chair right here.” She that would be fine. When I returned, she thanked me for being with her and said, “You don’t have to say anything at all. You can if you want to.” She added, “You take good care of me. I don’t know how you do it?” It’s this kind of appreciation that gives me encouragement to do everything I can for her.

Posted on

An Unusual Breakfast for Kate and for Me

Saturday morning Kate did something she has never done before. It was a few minutes after 7:00. I was about to fix my breakfast when I heard her say, “Hey.” I went to her and asked what I could do for her. She asked if we had anything to eat. I told her I could get her a breakfast bar. She didn’t know what that was. I took her to the bathroom. Then she wanted something to wear. Knowing it was early and that she would probably want to return to bed, I got a robe and helped her put it on.

Then I made a decision to do something very different for us – even before Alzheimer’s. I set a place for both of us at our kitchen table. I gave up the idea of cooking eggs. I opened a package of granola and poured a little into a bowl for each of us. I gave her a breakfast bar, a banana, and a glass of water. I know that we have eaten breakfast together when traveling, but I can’t recall our ever doing so at home. We didn’t have any milk, so we ate dry granola. She was quite relaxed and ate everything I gave her. As far as the food was concerned, nothing was special.  It was, nevertheless, a pleasant and very special moment for us.

Apart from our eating together, I had one other surprise. I had already poured a glass of V8 juice before she called me to the bedroom. She hasn’t cared for V8. For a long time, she drank apple juice in the morning with a cup of yogurt. I looked in our somewhat bare pantry and found a bottle of apple juice that had expired in November of 2018. Then I told her I had only given her water because I new she wasn’t a fan of V8. She didn’t remember what that was and said she would try it. I gave her a small glass, and she drank the whole thing.

There are other things like that. For example, she has always wanted butter and not oil with her bread. At two of the restaurants we frequent, the servers Know to bring us both. She recently asked me what “that” was. I told her it was olive oil and herbs, and I used it for my bread. She tried it and liked it. Similarly, she has never liked onions except in French onion soup. Now she eats onions if they are cooked with her food. She doesn’t recognize that she is eating onions although she still rejects raw onions. A similar surprise is that she sometimes eats her sweet potato fries without ketchup.

Except for a few moments of confusion, the past few days have been very pleasant ones for us. For several mornings, she has been in a cheerful mood. That has made it easier to get her up and help her with bathing and brushing teeth. I don’t mean to suggest that there has been any overall improvement in her memory, but she has not been concerned or depressed about it. She depends more heavily on me, and, for the most part, has been following my lead. It’s a bit like having a mini-vacation within the context of caregiving.

Posted on

A Christmas Afternoon Conversation

Kate and I had just returned from a late Christmas lunch around 4:30. We went to the family room, and Kate asked what she could do. I told her I could read something to her or she might like to look at one of her family photo books. She was unsure. I picked up a photo book of her father’s family and suggested we go through it together. I handed it to her and let her look for a few minutes while I brushed my teeth.

When I returned, she was looking at the first page. She told me she didn’t know anything. I told her I would help her. For about ten minutes we went through a few pages with my commentary on the people and places. She said she was interested but this was too much for her. She couldn’t absorb or remember anything. I suggested that it might be a good time for her to take a break and just rest. She said, “Let’s just do a couple of pages.” I agreed, but she stopped me again to say it was too much. This time she accepted my suggestion to rest. We closed the book and began an interesting and touching conversation that I was able to record. I have transcribed the beginning portion below.

Richard:         So you don’t remember anything right now.

Kate:               No. <pause> No. I don’t.

Richard:         Do you remember anything about your mother?

Kate:               No.

Richard:         What about your daddy?

Kate:               You know, right now, I just can’t even (Trails off)  This is so much to remember. It’s just too much right now.

Richard:         You know what you do remember though, I think? You can tell me if I’m wrong. You remember that you liked your mother very much. Do you remember that?

Kate:               No.

Richard:         You don’t?

Kate:               But that would be wonderful thing.

Richard          Do you remember what a nice and great woman she was?

Kate:               I don’t know much about her. I hardly know anything about her. I know I’ve been told, but I <slight pause> I mean, I must have, must have, but I have no (Trails off)

Richard:         No memory.

Kate:               This is why I don’t want to go too fast, and  I’d rather just go (Trails off)

Richard:         We don’t have to hurry at all. There is no reason to rush.

Kate:               Well, see, uh, that’s, that’s good.

Richard:         There are a couple of things I’d like you to know from me.

Kate:               All right. If I could tell you, I will.

Richard:         No, I just want to tell you something, and it’s the way I, it’s something I feel. One is that I love you very much.

Kate:               I love you too.

Richard:         Second is I want you to know you can depend on me.

Kate:               I think so too.

Richard:         I will help you with anything you need – anytime, and I believe that you know that I will.

Kate:               Oh, I know. Definitely.

Richard:         We’ve always cared for each other.

Kate:               Yes, we have.

Richard:         And we always will.

Kate:               That’s right too.

Richard:         You know, it takes us back to our wedding vows, doesn’t it? We said we would always stick together. For better or for worse.

Kate:               And we have.

Richard:         And, fortunately, its been mostly, almost entirely, the better for us. Hasn’t it? Haven’t we been fortunate?

Kate:               Oh, yes, yes, yes. I don’t remember much of it, but, you know, I’ve never had an anybody that . . . No <pause> no problems, they were all. I mean I don’t remember in (Trails off)

Richard:         You’re right. We just have had good times. We enjoyed the places we have lived. We enjoyed the people we’ve met. We’ve enjoyed our experiences in our work and going to school. You know, one of the things you enjoyed most was being a church librarian. It was one of the most fulfilling things (for you), and, you know, you did a good job. You helped so many. . . You’ve led a fulfilling life.