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Two Happy Moments

As Kate continues to decline, I expect that we will experience more sad moments than we have had in the past. I hope that I will be able to say that we still have happy ones as well. That is certainly true right now. Two days ago, for example, she got up early. She seemed to be in a good mood. She did ask my name and our relationship multiple times before she got dressed. Each time I mentioned that I was her husband she was surprised but accepting.

When she was dressed, she asked if she could lie down. I told her she could and then said, “I love you.” As I said it, I remembered the old song “I Love You a Bushel and a Peck.” When I mentioned it to her, she also remembered it. Then she said, “We could sing it together.” I took out my phone and searched for the song. Then I played it through our audio system. We forgot most of the lyrics, so I pulled them up on my phone. We must have sung the song five or six times. It may have been a little silly, but it was fun. Kate really got a kick out of it. I think it also made it easier for her to get up since her already good mood got better. I just know that right after our singing, I said, “Now, I’d like to take you to lunch.” She got right up.

We had another Happy Moment at dinner that night. We were having dinner at Chalupas when I mentioned how nice it was that we enjoy the simple pleasure of being together. She picked up on that and began a conversation about how fortunate we are in so many ways. From there, she gravitated to talking about the people who are not as fortunate as we are in our marriage and many other aspects of our lives.

I enjoy hearing her speak so naturally. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world. She is often concerned about what she should or shouldn’t do or say. She isn’t that way a lot of the time, but she does frequently ask me to watch her or to keep her from doing “something wrong.” She knows she does a lot of things that aren’t right. It’s good to see her at moments when doesn’t have those concerns. They make for quite a few Happy Moments for both of us.

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The Longest Time Kate Has Not Remembered Me As Her Husband

The past couple of days have been similar to a few other days this past week. Once again, Kate was up early. Shortly after getting to the bathroom, she said, “Who are you?” I gave her my name and told her I was her husband. She said firmly, “No.” I said, “I’m a friend, and I can help you with anything you need. She didn’t ask again until we were on the way to Panera around 9:00 when she asked, “Why am I with you?” I said, “Well, you’re my wife.” She gave me a look of astonishment and said, “What’s a wife?” I explained, but she was not ready to accept that we are married. I said, “Let’s say we’re very good friends.” That usually works, but it didn’t this time. She didn’t want to hear that either. At Panera, the subject came up again with the same reception. Except for her reaction each time I told her we were married, she acted very normally with me. Nothing would have suggested that we weren’t husband and wife.

At lunch, I said, “I think I might make you my girlfriend for life.” She was insistent that would not happen and told me not to say anything more. I didn’t until we were on the way home from dinner when she said, “Why am I with you?” as she had done that morning. I gave her a similar response and she did the same. I didn’t say anything more until she was in bed. I sat down on the bed beside her. She smiled at me, and I said, “I love you. Do you know how long we have been married?” She smiled again and said, “How long?” That was the first sign of recognition the entire day.

Kate started the day even earlier this morning. She was awake at 6:20 when I got up. I asked if she wanted to got to the bathroom. She said, “Not right now.” I told her I would be in the bathroom and to call me if she needed me. I had just gotten to the bathroom when she called.

She used the toilet and then asked, “What now?” She pointed to the shower. I hesitated a moment because it was so early. I knew she would want to go back to bed. Sometimes, however, she doesn’t want to shower. I quickly decided this was an opportunity I didn’t want to pass up. I told her I would get the shower ready for her. Before getting in, she asked, “Who are you?” When I told her my name and that I am her husband, she didn’t believe it. I told her we were friends. That worked.

After her shower, she wanted to lie down again. I turned on an album of cello adagios at a soft volume. I dressed and told her I would be in the kitchen and to call me if she needed anything. I asked if she wanted me to turn off the music. She said, “Oh, no. Please leave it on.” It was one of a number of reminders in the past few days of how much she enjoys music. It is now 8:30.

BREAK

It is now 10:15. Right after my earlier entry, I heard her say something. I went to the bedroom. She hadn’t called me. We spoke for a few minutes. She surprised me when she wanted to know who I was. I gave her my name and told her I was a friend and that I could help her with anything she needed. She didn’t show any signs of wanting to get up, but it also didn’t look like she was ready to go to sleep. I asked if she wanted to get up. She said she did but needed some clothes. I told her I would get them. She was surprised that I would know where to find them. I told her I knew a lot about her and that I knew her parents. She asked their names. Then she asked my name. I said, “Kate.” She recognized her name and asked for her full name. I said, “Kate Franklin” (her maiden name). I got her dressed without a problem. Even if she didn’t remember that we are married, she clearly trusts me.

The first real spark of life came when she reached the family room. She noticed all the usual things, the room, the flowers, the flowers on the patio, the back yard, and the photos. We spent about fifteen minutes just looking around as she enjoyed what she was seeing. When we started for the kitchen where I had laid out her morning meds, she said, “Don’t you hate to leave this place?” I explained that it was ours and that we would be coming back after getting her a muffin. She was surprised and happy.

We are now at Panera. She stopped working her puzzles and is finishing up her muffin. That means we will probably head back to the house shortly. We won’t be there long before going to lunch. She is happy. I am happy. I am optimistic about the rest of the day.

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The Past Two Days

Monday morning Kate got up early. I was glad because she was up in plenty of time to be ready for the sitter. She was more confused than ever. I’m glad to say that she wasn’t seriously disturbed about it. I wouldn’t call it an anxiety attack, but she was certainly puzzled. It was similar to what I can remember of movies with someone who is experiencing amnesia. This is hard to put in words, but she seemed in a deeper state of confusion and required a little longer to come out of it.

It began when she got out of bed and went to the bathroom. We went through what is becoming a regular routine. She asked about the picture of our daughter. When I told her she, she couldn’t accept that. I started to explain that she and I are married and have two children. That was too much for her. I gave up explaining things. I decided to let her senses go to work.

I took her by the hand to the hallway with the photos of her parents and grandparents. I showed her the picture of her mother taken around the time of her marriage. I told her who she was. She was taken with it as she usually is. We talked about her mother a few minutes. Then we went to the family room where turned on the soundtrack for My Fair Lady. I know she likes that and thought it might jar her memory.

I picked up her “Big Sister” album that her brother made for her. I showed her the cover photo. She didn’t recognize the two children. I said, “This little girl is Kate Creighton.” She said, “That’s me?” I said, “Yes, and this is your brother Ken.” I started to say more when she noticed the photo book of her father’s family. The cover has an ink drawing of the house in which her father grew up. I told her about the house and then opened to the first page of photos of her grandparents. Rather than reading the text, I just told her about her grandparents.

As we were getting started, she heard he song “With a Little Bit of Luck” playing in the background. She started moving her hand to the beat of the music and sang along with the lyrics of the title each time they came up. She asked me to stop talking about the photos for a minute so that she could listen to the music.

Between the photo book and the music, Kate started feeling more at ease. Before long, the doorbell rang. It was our sitter. I told Kate it was Cindy who was taking her to lunch. She looked puzzled. Then Cindy walked in, and Kate responded enthusiastically. That put me at ease. I was getting especially concerned about leaving her in such a confused state. I quickly gathered my things and left for Rotary. When I got home later, Kate was resting. Cindy told me that everything had gone well.

Yesterday was another day of ups and downs. Some of it was humorous. As I opened the car door for her after lunch, she said, “Take off your glasses.” I did. She said, “No, that doesn’t help.” I hope I can get through this without developing a complex about not being handsome.

The day started well. She was up early again. She did have one unpleasant experience. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, “I’m ugly.” I said, “I think you are beautiful.” This has occurred several times before, but her reaction this time was the strongest I have seen. The problem is her weight gain. She is forty to fifty pounds heavier than she was when she was diagnosed. Most of the time she doesn’t seem to notice the change. Twice in the past two days she has commented about drinking with only one straw instead of her usual two. She believes that will result in her drinking less.

We went to Panera but stayed only long enough for her eat her muffin. She worked on a puzzle while eating and got frustrated when she couldn’t go any further. She had completed all but one piece. She couldn’t see it because it was on top of the other pieces. Anyway, we went home where she got on the sofa for what I thought would be a short rest. Instead, she picked up her iPad and worked puzzles for the next thirty minutes before we left for lunch.

On the way home from lunch, we stopped by Target to buy candy for Halloween. That turned out to be a bad idea. I didn’t take into consideration that the candy is at the back of the store. That meant a long walk for Kate. She was ready to leave shortly after entering the store. We came back come where she rested in her recliner for almost two hours.

She went to sleep but woke up a short time before we went to dinner. I asked if she would like me to go through one of her photo books with her. She did. I pulled a chair beside her recliner, and we began. It wasn’t long before we slipped into a conversation about our lives together. We talked about our courtship and getting married. We also talked about our feelings for each other. It was a very tender moment. I recorded about fifteen minutes of it.

Before leaving for dinner she went to the bathroom. When she came out, I told her we were going to dinner and then to a musical performance at our local art museum. I helped her put on a different top that I thought would be more appropriate. Then I told her she looked beautiful. I followed that by saying, “Do you know that you are the most important part of my life.” She was unusually emotional and broke into tears.

All the way to dinner, she was concerned about being with other people last night. She said things like “I hope I don’t embarrass you.” or “I want you to keep me from doing something stupid.” I found it hard to believe that she would have remembered my telling we were going out after dinner, but maybe she did.

At dinner, she did something unusual. She wanted me to sit beside her in the booth rather than across from her as I usually do. I was glad to do that but concerned about her insecurity. We had a nice meal. By the time we were finished, she seemed fine. We went to the concert, and she got along fine. It was a “concert and conversation” with Peter Buffet, Warren’s son. Apart from being a musician, he and his sister work run the foundation established by his father. He spends most of his time doing philanthropic work, hence the reason he was here for United Way. I was amazed that Kate followed at least some of the things. I could tell by her reactions to what he said. She wouldn’t have gotten the details, but she understood isolated remarks. Afterwards, she said, “You’re gonna have to explain this to me.”

As we left the concert for our car, she asked where we were. I told her we were at the museum. She wanted to know the city. I told her it was Knoxville. In the car, she said, “Are we in New York?” I told her we were in Knoxville. She repeated variations of this question all the way home.

At home, she spoke quietly as though others were here. I told her we were the only ones here. She said, “Are you sure?” She was still confused about where she was, but she was happy when she went to bed.

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Another Good Day

Kate woke up at 8:00 in a good humor and appeared to recognize me. At least she greeted me with a smile. As we entered the bathroom, she said, “Excuse me, I don’t remember your name.” She asked just the way she would have done with a casual acquaintance. I said, “My name is Richard, and I am your husband.” When I said, “husband,” she looked surprised and doubtful. When this happens, I shift gears. I said, “Let’s say we’re good friends. How’s that?” She said, “Yes, you’re a good friend.”

While on the toilet, she asked my name at least two or three other times and again as she started to brush her teeth.

Her usual pattern would have been to return to bed, but she was ready to get dressed. I was happy about that. I had arranged for the sitter to come at 11:30 instead of 1:00 because I had a United Way meeting at noon. Her being up early provided enough time to get her a muffin at Panera, pass a little time there, and easily get back home before the sitter’s arrival. As it turned out, we got home forty-five minutes before the sitter.

While at Panera, she said, “Do you have a girl friend?” I hesitated a moment and then said, “I would say that you are my girl friend.” With tears in her eyes, she said, “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She went on to say, “When we get older, I think you will be somebody like (struggling for the right word) a bank president or something.” I thanked her and said, “We are fortunate to have found each other.” That prompted her to begin a conversation (almost a soliloquy) about other people who haven’t been as fortunate as we have been. I was mostly a facilitator. This conversation lasted about fifteen minutes before she was ready to go home.

I didn’t say anything about the sitter’s coming until the doorbell rang. I explained to Kate that I was going to a meeting and that she and Mary were going to have lunch together. She gave me a dirty look and asked why I couldn’t go with them, but she didn’t look insecure. “Irritated” would be a better description.

This was the longest I have left her, almost five rather than four hours. That made me wonder what she might be like when I got home. As it turned out, she and Mary were seated on the sofa looking at her mother’s family photo book. She didn’t even look up when I walked in the room. I was glad to see that. It encourages me to see her sharing moments like this with Mary. I feel that is an important bond. Mary has been with us for over two years while the Monday sitter has changed several times. I would hate to lose her.

After Mary left, Kate and I picked up the same photo book. We didn’t get far. She was tired and wanted to rest before going to dinner. At dinner, she expressed her desire to get to bed early multiple times. Instead, she became occupied with her iPad until 8:00 when I suggested she might go to bed. She was ready. When I joined her about 9:45, she was still awake. I’m not sure when she went to sleep. I know that I dosed off and woke a little later, and she was still awake.

I don’t know whether Kate remembered my name or our relationship the balance of the day. I know that she acted as though she did and didn’t ask my name again. It was a relaxing day, another day in which we enjoyed being together. I am happy to say that.

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Feelings of Insecurity and Appreciation

Yesterday was another of those days when I noticed more signs of Kate’s decline. She was especially dependent and cooperative in getting up and dressing. She was so cooperative that she was dressed and ready for the sitter in half the time or less. That turned out to be good because it enabled us to make a quick trip to Applebee’s for a gift card that the sitter uses to pay for Kate’s meal each Monday.

It was also a morning when she didn’t recognize me as her husband. She didn’t act surprised when I told her. She also didn’t remember her family. As we left the bedroom, I gave her the usual tour of the family photos in the hallway. We also looked at a few other pictures in the family room. As we went to the car, she became teary and thanked me for helping her. She tried to say more, but the words wouldn’t come to her. She suggested that I could say them better. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something like, “You want me to know how much you appreciate my help.” She nodded. She started to cry, and we stood a moment in the garage hugging each other. These moments are not unusual. They are times when our hugs communicate our strong feelings for each other, but I always wonder what else they might say. I know that on my part they say, “I know our time is running out. I want you to know that I love you and will care for you all the way.” Is she thinking about the seriousness of her own condition? That she is worried? That she is losing her ability to express her feelings? That she is afraid of the future? I just don’t know.

When Cindy arrived, I told Kate that the two of them would be going to lunch and that I was going to Rotary. She didn’t look uneasy about that, but she did say, “Why can’t we go to lunch together?” Then she gave me a look that suggested she thought I was deserting her. I walked over and gave her a hug and said, “I love you.” She said, “I love you too.”

After getting home, we spent a few minutes looking at one of her photo books. It wasn’t long, however, before she said she was tired and wanted to rest. I left the sofa to her and took a seat in a chair across from her. I put on an album of Barbra Streisand favorites. In a little while, I heard her whimpering. I told her that if I had known the music would make her sad, I would have played something else. She said, “No, I like it.” She wanted me to come back to the sofa and sit with her. We sat there enjoying the music for another fifteen minutes until it was time for dinner.

Today is starting the same way.  While working on this post at 8:00 this morning, I saw that she was sitting up in bed. I went back to her. She seemed to recognize me, but nothing was said to make me sure. I know that she was quite comfortable with me. I said, “I bet you wanted to go to the bathroom.” She said, “Where is it?” I said, “I’ll show you.” I helped her up. She didn’t try to assert her independence. She extended her hands for me to assist her. She continued to hold my hand on the way to the bathroom. She said, “You know, I am sure glad you’re here.” I told her I was glad too.

When she finished washing her hands (arms and face) and brushing her teeth, she looked around for a towel but didn’t see it. I took it from the towel rack beside her and handed it to her. She said, “I’m glad I have you. You always seem to know what to do and what to say.” Then she said, “What do I do now?” I told her it was still early and that she could go back to bed. She asked me to show her where to go and asked me to take her hand.

After she had gotten into bed, I told her I would be in the kitchen and to call me if she needed anything else. She appeared to be uneasy about that and asked where the kitchen was. I asked if she would like me to stay with her. She said she would, so I went to the kitchen and brought my laptop. When I got back, she said, “It means a lot to me that you’re here.” I said, “I think we were meant to be together.” She said, “Me, too.” She followed that with, “What’s your name?” I told her, and then she asked her name. A few minutes later, she asked my name again and where we were.

It could be another day of insecurity, but based on previous experience, she could be quite different when she finally gets up. I am getting a better appreciation of what I have heard from other caregivers about the difficulty predicting what comes next.

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A Bump in the Road While Preparing for Bed

After dinner last night, Kate and I spent over an hour looking at one of her family photo books. Both of us enjoyed the time together. Then I noticed that it was a few minutes after 8:00. That is when I usually try to wind down with the intent of getting her in bed before 9:00. I try to follow her between 9:30 and 10:00 so that I can get up between 5:30 and 6:00.

As usual, Kate wanted me to give her guidance on what to do. I told her she could start by brushing her teeth. I do that because she normally gets water on her clothes. If she puts her gown on first, she may need to change it before getting in bed. As it turned out, she forgot each of the things I said she should do even though I was giving her only one thing at a time. Before getting in bed, she brushed her teeth three times and used three hand towels and several wash clothes.

She was having a hard time following my directions, and we both got a little frustrated. She must have felt bombarded by instructions. I wanted to take my shower, but I wanted to see that she was ready for bed before then. Once I finally her night clothes on, I went to take my shower with the understanding that she would get in bed when she felt ready.

The first thing I noticed after my shower was that she was not in the bedroom. I went to the other bedrooms to see if she might be in one of them. When I found her, she had just pulled the covers back on the bed and was about to get in. I told her I would like for her to sleep with me. She spoke to me in hushed tones as though someone else was in the house, and she didn’t want them to hear our conversation. I tried to tell her we were alone, but she didn’t want me to speak. I walked her to our bedroom. She seemed a bit nervous and told me she didn’t know where to go. I felt bad about that. This was the first time in a year or so that I have gotten in the shower before seeing that she was in bed. She also felt bad about snapping at me a couple of times during the whole process. She apologized as she normally does. I apologized to her for rushing her.

She must have been unusually tired because she didn’t take any time to pull her hair once she got in bed. She went to sleep rather quickly. That is the first time I recall her doing that in a long time.

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Miscellaneous Interactions

Yesterday morning I helped Kate to the bathroom and back to bed. She was most appreciative. As I pulled the covers over her she thanked me and said, “I think I could marry you.” I said, “I love you.” She was excited and said, “You do?” I kissed her on her forehead and told her I would be in the kitchen if she needed me. She smiled and closed her eyes.

A number of times I have mentioned that she likes to pull strands of her hair when she rests or when she retires for the night. This can go on quite a long while. Recently, she has tried to make me a partner in efforts. At first, she just wanted me to watch what she was doing. She would explain it as I watched. Then she started asking me to pull her hair. I have tried to get out of it but given in on a couple of occasions. Last night she asked me to pull from the side and back of her head. Instead of doing it with my fingers, I used one of her hairbrushes. That worked fine.

When I finished, she went back to doing it herself. In a few minutes, she wanted me to look more closely at what she was doing. I got up from my chair and walked over to her. She said, “They were getting used to her and that they weren’t afraid anymore.” As she continued to talk, I couldn’t tell whether she was talking about bugs in her hair or the hair itself. I did learn that she has been trying to pull the strands of hair very slowly so as not to frighten them. I played along with her and didn’t act like I thought what she said was strange at all. This is not the first time I have observed her seeing or believing “things” were around or on her. She often sees confuses spots on a restaurant table or on pavement and talks about them as though they are alive.

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Insecure, Confused, but Happy and Appreciative

It would be quite an understatement to say that Kate is changing more now than at any other time since her diagnosis. Day before yesterday was a good example. Just as I have been adapting to her getting up late, she has surprised me several times over the past week. That morning she was up at 7:30. That’s at least three hours earlier than when I usually begin to wake her. It was also a day when she seemed comfortable with her surroundings. She acted like she knew I was her husband but didn’t. She was very dependent. She wanted my directions on almost every step from getting out of bed to where to go when I got her dressed. She was eager to have a shower, something I was happy about. She often resists.

We made it to Panera before 9:00 where she worked happily on her iPad an hour. Then I noticed that she was not working her puzzles, just sitting and looking a little discouraged. It was obvious she was frustrated. When I looked at what she had done, she had completed all but two pieces and couldn’t figure out where they went. I showed her, but she couldn’t understand. I put them in place for her. I felt sure that she was tired from having gotten up so early. It was early for lunch, but I decided it would be better than going home where she might nap and then have a hard time getting up.

She was quiet on the way to the restaurant. As I was helping her out of the car, she said, “I want to thank you. I feel better.” I told her I didn’t think I had done anything special but that I want to do anything I can to help her. She looked at me very seriously and said, “You do. You have no idea how much.” I am still not entirely sure what she was thinking about. It might have been the way I responded to her when she was frustrated over her puzzle. It could also have been that she imagined something as we were driving to the restaurant. As we walked to the entrance, she stopped as she always does to look and comment on the flowers just outside the door. When our server greeted her and asked her how she was doing, Kate said, “I’m doing much better now.” That’s exactly how it seemed. She was fine the rest of the day.

Eating early allowed us to get back with plenty of time before the sitter. I felt sure she would immediately head to the sofa for a nap. Instead she started working a puzzle on her iPad and continued until just before the sitter arrived. Then she decided to rest on the sofa. That’s where she was when Mary came. She greeted Mary with enthusiasm. When I told her I was leaving for my platelet donation, she smiled and said goodbye. She didn’t look at all unhappy to see me go.

When I returned, she was seated on the sofa looking at a photo book. She said, “We need you.” I took note of the fact that she said “we” and not “I.” Then Mary told me that she had not napped and explained that Kate had wanted to go outside. She stooped down to look at something in the yard or near a shrub, lost her balance, and couldn’t get up. Mary helped her but said it was difficult. I know what she means. I find that it is getting a bit challenging to get her into a sitting position when she is lying on the bed.

From what Mary told me, Kate had been a little upset and confused, but she was calm when I got home. The only problem then was that she was hot from being outside. I got out a small floor fan and used it to cool her off. Fifteen minutes later, she was fine again and ready for dinner.

At dinner we encountered something that is becoming a regular part of our dining experience now. She has difficulty knowing where she should sit. I always walk to her chair and pull it out from the table. I use my hand to direct her to the seat and say something like, “Sit right here.” Almost without exception, she interprets that as my chair and goes to the chair across the table from me. Sometimes I accept the chair she has chosen. When I have a specific reason for choosing a different chair, I may simply take her hand and guide her to the chair I selected. This, and the fact that she is very careful as she takes her seat, means that it takes longer for us to be seated than most hostesses are prepared for. Most of them seemed to be trained to remain at the table until you are seated. Of course, since we are regulars at all the places we visit, the hostesses are well aware of Kate’s diagnosis and are very understanding.

During dinner, Kate talked a good bit about what I do for her and how much she appreciated that. I told her our son was coming for a visit the next day. During our conversation, we spoke very naturally about our marriage. She commented on how happy we had been and then said, “What’s your name?” I told her, and she asked her own name. I am still amazed at how casually she does this. It’s the kind of experience that is both happy and sad. I am happy that she doesn’t seem frustrated, but it is also sad that she can’t remember. It makes me think about all the things she must not know if she is forgetting her own name and mine. What is it like to look around and not know who or what anything is? The good thing is that she still responds intuitively to people and things around her and still likes so many things. She continues to get pleasure out of life. That is something that may be hard for people without dementia to understand.

Later that night when we were in bed, she mentioned how good she feels when she is in Texas. I could tell by the way she said it that she thought she was in Texas at that moment. I didn’t say anything to dissuade her. She was happy. That’s a good way to end the day.

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Our Conversation This Morning

At 6:30 this morning as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard Kate say, “Hey.” I went to her bedside and asked if there were something I could do for her.

Kate:              “I want to go to the bathroom.”

Richard:        “I can help you with that.”

Kate:              “Where is it?”

Richard:        “Let me help you up, and I’ll show you.”

When she stood up, I took her hand.

Kate:              “Boy, am I glad you’re here.”

Richard:        “I’m glad to be here with you.”

As we reached the bathroom, she wanted to shed her overnight underwear.

Kate:              “This is no fun. I know it’s not for you either.”

When she finished, she went to the sink to wash her hands and brush her teeth. Then the conversation continued.

Kate:              “Richard, I’m so glad you are here. You take such good care of me.” (We embraced) “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Richard:        “And I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Kate:              “What’s your name?”

Richard:        “Richard, and I’m your husband.”

Kate:              “Oh. What do I do now?”

Richard:        “It’s still early. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

She did, and we walked hand in hand back to bed.

Kate:              “Thank you. You know I can’t live without you.”

Richard:        “I love you and will always take care of you.”

Kate:              “You already are.”

During our entire conversation, she never displayed any sign of anxiety or panic. She was, however, feeling insecure and grateful for my help. The way she acted it sounded like a rather clear understanding that she has a serious problem and views me as someone she can trust to care for her. We talk about our love for each other all the time, but in this moment it seemed that each of us fully recognized our situation for what it is.