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Change and Adaptation

Like most people, I tend to look for explanations for why “things happen.” I think that is part of our natural curiosity. In addition, I have spent a career looking for reasons that people do what they do, why they change, and what they might do in the future. Since Kate’s diagnosis, I have tried to understand everything that is happening as well how to prevent and solve problems. The most important thing I have learned is how difficult it is to know what is coming next and why.

I’m thinking about this while at Panera. It’s 8:37, and we’ve been here about thirty minutes. This is about the third time we have been here in the last few days. In some ways, this doesn’t seem unusual to those who have read my earlier blog posts or those with whom I have talked about our almost daily visits here. Those regular visits declined over a year ago. I related that to changes in her sleeping. In turn, I attributed her sleeping later to the progression of her Alzheimer’s. For months our visits have been infrequent. What has made her get up earlier recently? Is this something that will continue for a while, or are these a few isolated events?

The answer to these questions is “I don’t know,” and that is the answer I have given for most of the changes that have occurred during the past nine years. What I do know is that Kate’s changes mean that I have to change as well. My natural tendency, however, is to continue doing what I have done before. I admit to being a creature of habit. The only thing that saves me is my desire to provide Kate with the best care possible. If that means I need to make a change, I do it. I don’t mean that making a change is necessarily easy. Each one comes with a measure of psychological discomfort. I like routine and predictability.

Early on, I thought that a writer like Neil Simon could have a field day writing about a couple like us, one with Alzheimer’s, the other with OCD. It really could be comical. On the other hand, I am pretty sure that even if a caregiver were not driven by a desire for order and routine, he or she would ultimately find it challenging to deal with the unpredictable changes that take place with this disease. I feel for those who can’t. I have read many posts on Facebook and Twitter and online forums in which caregivers rant and rave over the behavior of their loved ones. I know it can be very hard. My own situation is much easier because the relationship that Kate and I have now is a pretty good extension of what it was before. The major change would be her dependence on me, but she is generally cooperative and loving.

This morning was a good example. I keep a close eye on the video cam so that I can get to her quickly if she calls me or is getting up. I don’t, however, keep my eyes on it every moment. Today, I went outside to check the water level on our pool that has a leak. When I got back inside, Kate walked into the family room. She was looking for me.

It turned out that she had waked up and was ready to get dressed for the day. Of course, she didn’t know where to go or what to do. She was glad to see me, but she hadn’t panicked and was in a good humor. I apologized for not being there as she got up. It hadn’t bothered her. She just wanted her clothes. I told her I could help her. Then I took her to the bathroom to get the process started. When she started to brush her teeth, she asked, “I sure am glad you are here. <pause> Who are you?” When I gave her my name, she wanted to know “Who are you to me?” I told her I was her husband. She was surprised. I said, “Would you rather think of me as a friend?” She said no. During the next twenty minutes, we repeated this exchange several times. She was always surprised, but comfortable, with my answer. When I helped her dress, she said, “You know, you’re a pretty nice guy. I think I could like you.” I think that captures well what her attitude is like.

Now what does this have to do with change and adaptation? I’m about to tell you. This is the third day in a row that Kate has gotten up early. Each time it has been before or during my morning walk. I like that walk. It is not simply a time for a little exercise. I also listen to books. For me it’s a nice way to start the day before my responsibilities with Kate begin. After my walk, I work on my blog. When Kate is up early, it leaves me to find another time to write.

My point is that I like routine, and changes like her getting up much earlier change that routine. I’d rather not change. On the other hand, she was so nice this morning that I want to take advantage of the time we have to enjoy ourselves. That is a higher priority for me, especially at this stage. I may be having a harder time getting other things done, but it is a pleasure to have time like this.

An hour has passed since I started this post. We are still at Panera, and Kate is still working her puzzles. That’s an unusually long period of time without her getting frustrated. I have been helping her throughout, but she is doing better than she has done in a while.

BREAK

Whoops, it is now 10:45. As I was in the middle of the previous sentence, Kate hit a roadblock with her puzzles. We came home where I will now close and upload this post.

Despite her having trouble and wanting to stop, she was still in a good humor and wanted to help me gather our things together to go home. Once here, she hit her recliner where she is resting. That’s a good thing because I have a noon lunch meeting at United Way. That’s an hour earlier than the sitter comes. I arranged for a church friend from to take Kate to lunch and get her back home for the sitter at 1:00. I have done that once before, and it worked well. This is a person who used to be on the staff at church when Kate was the church librarian. They ate lunch together frequently and have always had a good relationship though we don’t see her often these days.

While Kate has rested, I took care of a number of household chores. Those never end, and I am always behind. It’s been a nice morning. I am glad she got up early even if it meant no walk that I didn’t finish this post until now. Until next time, have a nice day.

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A Strange Experience Last Night

As I reported in a previous post, Kate and I had a great time yesterday morning. Reading and taking a tour around the house was fun for both of us. When the sitter arrived, Kate acted glad to see her. Although she did want me to go with them to lunch, she didn’t show any uneasiness at my leaving for Rotary.

When I arrived home, I expected to see her resting on the sofa. Instead she was seated on the sofa across from the sitter who told me that Kate had been very talkative while I was gone. I don’t know how long they talked, but I got the impression it was a long time. I didn’t ask what they talked about. Last night I got a taste of this myself.

I got Kate ready for bed before I took my shower. Just after I got out, Kate opened the door to the bathroom. I was surprised that she was up and asked if she needed to use the bathroom. She said she was looking for the girls. I had no idea what she was talking about. I do know that once in a while she believes we either have company in the house or that someone is coming to visit us. I told her we were the only people in the house.

Then she began a conversation that last more than forty-five minutes, fifteen in the bathroom and another thirty in the bedroom where she asked me to sit in a chair while she took a seat on the bed a couple of feet away. She stumbled over her words so much that I couldn’t everything she said. I was able to make some sense of what she was communicating but not what motivated her to do so.

She thought she was in Texas and a member of a group that apparently had been all women but now included men. She talked about being on a committee that was charged with identifying women who might become new members of this “group” (club?). I gathered that the group might be a “leadership” organization of some type because she talked a lot about the quality of the women who had recently joined and the prospects who were being considered.

As she talked, she asked me if I knew “Richard.” I told her I did. She said, “He’s a nice guy. You would like him.” She went on further to talk about him. She said, “You might say ‘He’s my . . . She paused as she looked for the right words. I was eager to see if she would say “husband.” She said, “guy.” Then she added, “He might even be the one I marry.” She continued talking about her club and mentioned “Richard” several other times but couldn’t recall the name and didn’t for the remainder of the conversation.

She only stopped her conversation because I mentioned that I was going to get ready for bed. I got her in bed and told her I would be in bed beside her. As I said this, I wondered how she would react to that since she obviously didn’t recognize me as Richard. Would she think it strange that we would now go to bed together? Not at all. We got into bed as we always do except that we didn’t snuggle. I was afraid that would seem too abrupt for her. We slept well without any further conversation except that we had had another good day. Now I wonder what she talked about with Sandy. Was it the same kind of conversation? If so, that must have seemed especially strange to her. It seemed that way to me.

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Morning Crisis

Yesterday, like a number of days recently, Kate was up at 7:30. That meant I didn’t get my normal walk, nor did I have time to upload a new post. This morning I was up at 5:20. I thought this would be a good opportunity to write a post about an experience we had last night. My plans changed quickly. I was about to walk out of the bedroom when I noticed that Kate was awake. I walked over to the bed to let her know I was going to the kitchen to fix my breakfast. When I reached the bed beside her, I recognized the look on her face. I said, “Are you afraid?” She nodded. I told her I could help her and that she was going to be all right? Then I said, “Would you like me to stay with you?” She said, “Oh, yes.”

She wanted to go to the bathroom. As I helped her up, she said, “You’re very nice to me. You’re the only one I can talk to.” I wasn’t sure if she knew who I was and said, “My name is Richard.” She said, “I know that. <pause> What’s your name?”

After using the toilet, she wanted to brush her teeth. I asked if she were still afraid. She said she was. I asked what she was afraid of. She said, “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do?” She talked a couple of minutes about that and said things like “I don’t know what’s going to happen to all of us.” “I just want to get out of here. I don’t really mean that, but . . .” (She didn’t finish.) “Thank you for helping me. You’re the only one I can talk to.”

I assured her that I could help her, that she could depend on me. I said, “Right now, I think you need to get back in bed and rest. We’re going to have a very nice day.” I started to leave for the kitchen for my computer, and she said, “Please stay with me.” I told her I was just getting my things from the kitchen and would be right back.

As you might expect, I turned on some soft soothing music and sat in the chair beside the bed. It wasn’t long before she was asleep.” I began to think about leaving to fix my breakfast, when she awoke and saw me. She had a smile on her face and said, “You’re here. How nice.” She seemed like herself, but now I feel I should stay a while longer. At least for now, the crisis is over.

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A Terrific Morning

Yesterday morning before Kate was up, I posted a tweet that said, “Feeling grateful today. At Stage 7 #Alzheimers, Kate often fails to remember my name or hers, doesn’t know her way around the house, needs help with everything, and is losing her ability to speak, HOWEVER, we still enjoy life and each other.”

I thought a while before posting it for two reasons. First, I don’t want people to think we have escaped all the negative aspects of Alzheimer’s. We haven’t. Second, I don’t want other caregivers whose situations are much different than ours to think they must be doing something wrong or they would also be enjoying life the way we have. From the start, I have wanted to provide an accurate description of our lives. It seems like being able to enjoy life while living with such a devastating disease needs to be told.

After posting the tweet, I realized that my grateful feeling could be easily followed by something that would bring me down from my perch. That could have happened. It is not unusual for us to experience such swings from high to low and back again. I am happy to say that our morning turned out to be a confirmation of our good times.

Kate was up at 7:30, in a cheerful mood, and ready for the day. We were at Panera before 8:30 and back home before 9:30. I wasn’t surprised that she wanted to rest. While she did that, I did a few household chores.

At 10:00, she had rested enough. I asked if she would like me to read a little of Charlotte’s Web. We spent the next hour reading. We both had fun, but I found my voice was getting a bit hoarse. For the better part of the day yesterday and the day before she didn’t recognize our house as ours. I’m not sure whose she thought it was. I suggested that I show her around the house. She was ready.

We spent the next hour walking first through the kitchen, then the dining room, through the living room, and back to the family room. Along the way we made numerous stops as I told her the stories behind many of the pictures, furniture, and other items some of which had come from her parents’ house. She was enthralled. As I expected, she was particularly excited about the variety of things that had been her parents. You might think that because we had so many things of her parents and that I talked about our having them in our home she would have come to realize that she was in our home; however, I never got a sense that she recognized it as ours. In fact, three or four times she asked, “Who owns this house?” Each time I told her that we did, but it never seemed to stick.

Once again, we had had an experience that can be looked on with sadness – sadness that she doesn’t recognize her own home or the many things that should be treasured memories for her. I am just glad that with my help she can experience them in the moment. Yesterday morning was a very Happy Moment for her and for me. I am grateful.

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Update on Reading

I am glad to report that Kate and I have continued reading together. We have now read The Velveteen Rabbit four times. Each time she has enjoyed it just as much as the first time. We have also read more than 100 pages of Anne Frank’s diary. Yesterday, we started Charlotte’s Web and have read more than 100 pages of it.

It has been exciting to see how much she has enjoyed everything I have read to her. She audibly expresses her reactions which seem to be appropriate to the things I am reading, for example, laughter at something funny, sadness when something bad happens.  I have been very careful not to overdo it. I stop after chapters in Charlotte’s Web and  daily entries in Frank’s diary and ask Kate if she would like to continue. So far, I have been the one to reach a stopping place. One of those times was with the diary. Kate was getting too sad, and I suggested we take a break. She agreed.

It is a special pleasure for me because I actually enjoy what we are reading as well. I’ve always liked Charlotte’s Web and had never read Frank’s diary. It is nice to add a new activity that involves both of us. The down side is that it takes away from my personal time, but I believe it is a net gain in pleasure for me.

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Little Things from the Past Two Days

Each day brings with it a variety of little things that characterize our lives. For example, Kate is losing more of her vocabulary. That leads to her saying things I may understand but are not precisely what she meant to say. Yesterday morning as we walked through the family room, she once again took note of her ceramic cat. I had walked ahead of her a few steps and heard her say, “Kitty Pat. Kitty Pat.” I looked back and said, “What?” She pointed to the cat and repeated enthusiastically, “Kitty Pat.” This is just one example of changes in her speech. She continues to forget common words like salmon, steak, and sweet potato fries. There are many more. By the way, when she stops to look at the cat, she seems to understand that it is not real. Other times I’m not sure. As she looked at it yesterday, she said, “He’s looking at me. Now he’s looking at you.”

At the same time she loses certain skills, she continue to amaze me with her self awareness and, especially, her insights about me. She was a little uneasy when we went to lunch yesterday and asked me to sit beside her in the booth rather than across from her. In a few minutes, I said, “It looks like you are relaxed now.” She said, “Not quite, but I’m getting there.” Then she surprised me. She put her hand on mine and very gently said, “If I were really upset, you would say, ‘You’re going to be all right. Just relax. You’re going to be all right.’” These might not have been my exact words, but they were pretty close. Her tone of voice was “right on.”

Later in the day, she asked where we were. Before I could answer, she said, “I must make you miserable asking you the same question over and over.” She forgets many things, but she clearly remembers things of which I thought she was unaware. It’s not only that she remembers, but she also grasps that it could be irritating. Of course, I told her it doesn’t, and it’s true though I’m not sure she believed me.

She is often concerned about what she should do or say in social situations. This usually comes up before we are going somewhere, but other times it is out of the blue. That happened yesterday as we got in the car after lunch. She said, “It’s really good to see you.” She wanted to know if that was correct. I told her it was. Then I said, “As a former English teacher, you could appreciate that there are different ways you could say the same thing. Some could have slightly different meanings.” I went on to say, “For example, you might simply say, ‘It’s nice to see you.’” I explained that it wouldn’t convey the same degree of pleasure or emotion. Then she asked what she had said. I said, “It’s really good to see you.” She immediately said, “Or I could say, ‘It’s so good to see you.’” Because there is so much that she doesn’t remember or understand, it is easy to think that she wouldn’t be able to grasp something like this. That would clearly be wrong – at least this time.

There is something else that has occurred regularly for a long time. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it. She has ridden with me a lot over the eight years since I bought it. We’ve had only one car since December 2013. For the past three or four years she has been unable to identify it at all. The fact that I point and say, “That white car is ours.” doesn’t help. In addition, she doesn’t know which side of the car she is to enter (even when I take her, and I always do.) or whether to get in the front seat where I have opened the car door or the back seat with the door closed. It’s a good reminder of just how much her rational thought processes have diminished. I should add that she has never had any interest in cars. That was long before Alzheimer’s. I know that she knew she drove a Volvo station wagon for a few years, but I’m not sure she ever knew what kind of car I drove.

There is one other thing I should add. I’ve mentioned a lot about her poor eyesight. She frequently will not see specific food items on her plate at meal times. She has salmon and sweet potato fries every Saturday for lunch, but she often doesn’t see the salmon. When the server put her plate in front of her, I am careful to turn it so that the salmon is right in front of her and the sweet potato fries above that. I feel certain her love of fries is part of the reason she sees them. When I point out the salmon, she has great difficulty seeing it even when I use a knife as a pointer and touch it. The surprising thing is that she frequently sees small specks on the table or floor or in the car. They must stick out because there is usually nothing around them, but it is a reminder that her eyes are working. It is the brain that has trouble differentiating different items that are close together.

Let me close with something I’ve said before. We still enjoy ourselves. Yesterday and Friday were especially good days. These days may be waning, but, obviously, it is possible for a couple “Living with Alzheimer’s” to derive pleasure even at this late stage of the disease. I know that everyone’s experience can’t be like ours nor would I deny the low points that are a part of everyone’s journey. From the memoirs of other caregivers, however, I know that our experience is not unique. That should be encouraging to people who have recently received their diagnosis. It’s good to know that life after Alzheimer’s is possible, at least for a while. For us that has lasted almost nine years.

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Our Thanksgiving

Like so many other things, Thanksgiving has come and gone. Despite the rough beginning in the early morning hours, it was a nice day though it was bitter-sweet. There was no denying the dramatic change in Kate since last year when we were in Texas with our son’s family. I predicted then that it might be our last Thanksgiving with family, and it was.

I’m not at all sure what next year will be like, but I know Kate’s changes will not be for the better. Kate is unable to grasp this, but I am convinced by the things she says that she recognizes her condition is not good. She was essentially saying that when I went in to get her up for lunch yesterday morning. I said, “It’s Thanksgiving, and I’m thankful that I have you.” She reached up and grabbed both of my arms and said, “And I am thankful for you.” I said, “I know that.” She said, with emphasis and with a slightly sad expression on her face, “I want you to know I really mean it. I mean it.” She knows she couldn’t make it without my help and is very appreciative. I continue to be amazed at her self-awareness.

Since we eat out for lunch and dinner, finding a place to eat on Thanksgiving is a challenge. We did, however, have a good Thanksgiving meal at Ruth’s Chris. For a long time, Kate has been able to get along quite well without anyone’s suspecting she has Alzheimer’s. That is one of the big changes that has occurred in recent months. It was evident yesterday.

As the hostess walked us to our table, she was walking rather quickly. Kate is always very slow. The hostesses at our regular places are well aware and take their time. I decided to let this one know. We hadn’t gone far when I looked behind me and saw that Kate had stopped to talk with a woman at another table. I walked back and discovered that she was complimenting the woman on her hair. She was overdoing it, and I know the woman thought it somewhat strange. When we got to our table, we went through something with which I am accustomed. I am sure that our hostess was not. She was, of course, supposed to wait until we were seated and hand us our menus. It took what must have seemed to her an interminable amount of time for Kate to realize which seat was hers and to be seated. I was glad I had informed our hostess. She was very understanding.

After Kate’s making a few initial comments to our server, I handed her one of my Alzheimer’s cards. I was glad that I had although she might have guessed anyway. Both when I ordered and when the food arrived, Kate asked, “What is that?” She was referring to the sweet potato casserole. She also asked the same question when I ordered a filet for us to split. I think she was confused about the whole situation. We are not regulars at Ruth’s Chris, and it had an air of formality that we don’t experience at most other restaurants. She was very concerned about doing something wrong and asked my advice a number of times. That is not something unusual, but the way she asked sounded like she was more uneasy about this situation.

Despite these things, the lunch went quite well. There were two other couples seated at the tables beside us, but the sound was quite muffled. We felt a certain measure of privacy even though the restaurant was packed. We had a good conversation and talked about the many things for which we are thankful.

Once we were home, Kate wanted to rest and did so for about an hour before getting up. I asked if she would like me to read The Velveteen Rabbit to her. She did. She was more enthusiastic this time than before. Once again, I was also touched. It is so good to see her enjoy herself in this way.

It didn’t take long to finish. Then I asked if she would like me to read some of the Diary of Anne Frank. In spite of her previous interest, I was a little afraid this would sound like too much for her. I am glad to say I was wrong. We read another 20 pages. As I did before, I asked if she wanted me to continue after each entry. We only stopped because it was time for dinner.

It was another good day for us. The meaning of this holiday did not fall on deaf ears. Each of us experienced the spirit of Thanksgiving.

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Alzheimer’s Doesn’t Know It’s a Holiday, But We Do.

Kate and I talk a lot about the many things for which we are grateful. We’ll do more of that today. Let me say first that I am grateful to those of you who take time to read my often rambling accounts of our lives. I hope it provides an accurate glimpse of what “Living with Alzheimer’s” is like for us and that you may be gaining a little insight into the world of Alzheimer’s. The overriding message for us is how well we have gotten along. That easily claims first place among the things for which I feel most fortunate. I only wish that could be true for everyone who lives with this disease, but I am very mindful that others face far greater challenges than we have.

I am grateful for the kindness of family, friends and acquaintances who provide support, often without realizing it. I have also been touched by those who serve us in restaurants and customers in places we visit. Just this week I took Kate to the restroom at lunch. I’m always a little concerned in these situations because she has on several occasions locked a door to the stall or the restroom itself and been unable to open it. Sometimes she doesn’t know where to go once she is in the restroom or how to find the exit door. That day I opened the door and peaked in to see if anyone else might be in there. A lady was washing her hands. I pointed Kate in the direction of the stall and told her I would be right outside the door. It wasn’t long before the door opened and the lady who had been washing her hands invited me in. She told me she was a nurse and would stay with Kate. That wasn’t the first time people have helped in that situation. Little gestures like that have made the road smoother for us, at least emotionally.

It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining, and the today’s temperature will be in the low 60s. I look forward to this day with Kate. It will be the first we celebrate alone. Now don’t feel sorry for us. We will certainly miss being with family, but it will be easier on both of us that we are not traveling or hosting this year. I have an increasing recognition that our time together is limited, and I treasure the good times that we have when it is just the two of us.

Now let me segue to another aspect of our lives. Although we have many “Happy Moments,” they vacillate with more trying ones. Thus far, we have been able to handle each one of those. That includes one we had early this morning.

At 3:00, Kate said, “How do I get inside?” I said, “You’re inside right now. You’re in your own bed.” She wasn’t buying that. She asked again. I said told her I would show her but that it was the middle of the night and thought it would be better to do that in the morning. That wasn’t of any help. Then I told her I would show her. The first stop was the bathroom. Then we walked hand-in-hand through the bedroom, down the hallway outside our room, into the family room and kitchen, stopping in the laundry room. During our walk I tried to comfort her. She kept asking if we were going inside. I assured her that I was taking her inside. I turned her around and we walked back to our bedroom where I helped her into bed.

As I pulled the covers over her, she said, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?” I told her I would never leave her and that I would be right there on the other side of her. When I turned around to walk to the other side of the bed, she must have thought I was leaving. She said, “Don’t leave me.” She seemed very frightened. That didn’t stop immediately. I got into bed, moved close to her, and put my arms around her. She gradually felt at ease. By that time it was about 4:10. She was quiet until 4:30 when she asked again not to leave her. I assured her I wouldn’t, and I didn’t hear anything more from her. I think I went to sleep pretty shortly after that. I know I slept until 6:50 which is unusually late for me, but I know I needed it.

My best wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving to each of you.

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Another Success with Reading

Having been successful with The Giving Tree and The Velveteen Rabbit, I decided to try another book that I bought at the same time, Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl. I knew this could be a more challenging read for Kate but thought it was a worth a chance. I tried it Sunday evening after dinner.

I began by telling her a little about the book and that we had visited the place where Anne Frank and her family had hidden for two years. She was interested from the start. I am sure this was a book that she had recommended many times to her students when she was a librarian, but, of course, has no memory of it now.

When I finished the first entry, I asked if she would like to stop or if she wanted me to read some more. She wanted me to continue reading. After each entry, I asked if she wanted me to go on. We read twenty-five pages before I suggested we stop for the night and pick it up later. I was quite surprised she retained her interest for so long. Once again, I was encouraged about my adding reading as a source of pleasure for her.

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The Velveteen Rabbit

One of the major themes running through “Living with Alzheimer’s” is change and adaptation. That has been continuous since Kate’s diagnosis. Of course, it really started before that, but I can’t pinpoint a specific date. I can for the diagnosis, so I always use it. At first, our lives changed very little. The primary difference was a focus on the bad news and how we were going to handle it.

Over time, we dropped many things that we had done in the past. Most recently, that has involved Kate’s difficulty working jigsaw puzzles on her iPad. For several years that has taken up 6-8 hours a day. That is now less than an average of an hour a day. This past week there were three days when she didn’t use it at all.

That has put me in the position of creating more activity for her. The sitters and I have been doing that with the aid of her family photo books. That is going well, but I felt the need for something else.  She tries reading magazines, but she doesn’t see well enough. Since she enjoys my reading the text that accompanies the photo books, I began to think about reading other things to her. Several things increased my motivation. One of my Twitter friends reads to her mother and said her mother enjoys it. I also have a colleague at the office who read to her mother in the latter stages of her life. It meant a lot to both of them.

In addition, our Rotary club has recently adopted a new project that involves placing children’s books in public places frequented by children. It made me think of buying several children’s books and trying them out with Kate. Two weeks ago, I took Kate with me to Barnes & Noble to browse the children’s collection. It was right after lunch, a time when she almost always wants to rest. I didn’t have much time to do any serious looking.

Last week, I had a conversation about reading to Kate with my colleague. She mentioned The Velveteen Rabbit and The Giving Tree as good possibilities. I went back to Barnes & Noble on Wednesday and looked for them along with other possibilities. They have a pretty large collection, but I didn’t see either book. The next day I checked Amazon and got them along with two other books.

Prior to their arrival on Friday, I looked on some of our book shelves to see what I might find. I saw a book by Erma Bombeck, Family: The Ties that Bind . . .and Gag! I read the two short introductory chapters to her Friday morning. In her humorous way, she first relates what her own birth family was like when she was growing up. Then she describes her present (present being some time ago) family as they take their annual Christmas photo. It’s a funny contrast of the generations. I wasn’t sure how Kate would react, but she enjoyed it, and I plan to read more at another time.

Sunday morning she was up a little earlier than usual. I didn’t want to go to Panera for a muffin and the quickly go to lunch, and Andriana’s wasn’t going to be open for almost an hour. I didn’t want her to feel my reading children’s books to her was, well, too “childish.” I explained about our Rotary project and that she might help me decide if the books I had bought would be suitable for me to give to our project. She, of course, was happy to do that. My first experiment was reading The Giving Tree. It didn’t take long for me to discover that she liked it. She audibly expressed her feelings as I read. I was encouraged by her reaction.

We still had plenty of time before we needed to leave for lunch. I picked up The Velveteen Rabbit and read it. This was a blockbuster. She was touched the whole way and in tears before I got to the end. I admit that I was touched as well, especially by her response, and shed a tear or two myself.

When I finished reading, I put the book down in my lap. We were seated side-by-side on the sofa. She picked it up and started to look through it from the beginning. She looked at the title page and the page of illustrations. I hadn’t paid much attention to the illustrations as I read, so we looked at them. Then I suggested we go to lunch. She held the book up to her chest with both arms around it and asked if she could take the book with us. I told her she could. She said, “Should I take it into the restaurant?” I said it would probably be better to leave it in the car. Then she decided it was best to leave it home. I mentioned that we could read it again if she would like. She said she did.

It was a beautiful experience for both of us. I was hoping she might enjoy my reading to her since she has enjoyed my reading from her photo books, but I wasn’t at all sure she would understand the stories well enough to appreciate them. I feel sure that she missed a lot, but it was clear that her intuitive skills were working. She was clearly moved. Her reaction encourages me to try more. Wouldn’t it be nice if her love for reading that seemed to have been lost could be rekindled in this way? How appropriate for someone who was a lifelong reader until Alzheimer’s entered our lives.