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An Interesting and Very Nice Day

Despite the fact that Kate was up at 6:00 yesterday, she was in a very good mood all day. In that respect, she was nothing like she was the day before. In fact, except for a little normal confusion immediately after getting up, she displayed relatively few of the obvious signs of her Alzheimer’s the way she has done in the past. She did ask my name once or twice at Panera but not once the rest of the day. In addition, she also mentioned our grandson, Brian, by name in an afternoon conversation without my saying anything to prompt her. She didn’t asked me where we are or the names of anyone else. She did ask me the name of the restaurant where we had lunch two or three times while we were there.

Of greater significance, is that we had a very good conversation when we got home after lunch. This is one of those times I wish I had a better memory. I would love to tell you exactly what she said. I’ll do the best I can to capture the moment.

As we drove up to our house, she said, “I remember this place.” I couldn’t be sure of what she meant. Right before this, she was talking about Madison. Did she think this was our place in Madison or simply that she recognized the house we live in now. Once in the house my uncertainty continued. She said something similar about the family room when we walked inside.

She was especially drawn to the back of the house and the trees on the property of the neighbor who live behind us. We sat down in the family room. Each of us had an iPad, but she continued to talk. I wanted to listen and support the conversation. She talked about our years in Madison when I was a graduate student. She commented about it’s having had a great impact on both of us. She said it was a time when we both grew up. Much of what she said comes from things I have said to her in the past, though not recently.

As in most other conversations, she talked about our marriage and how fortunate we have been, but there was something very different. In recent conversations, she has sounded like a nervous talker, just chattering away. This time she was so very normal and thoughtful as she spoke. There was no sign of concern or worry or fear about her memory loss. In many respects, she seemed quite normal. There was one difference that has become more common recently. The struggles with finding the right words to communicate what she wants to say. Often she says, “You know what I mean.” In most cases, she hasn’t told me enough for me to know. I find myself guessing what it was she wanted to say. More than half the time I guess after a few attempts. Other times, I don’t. Then she either drops the point she wanted to make or she goes on with the larger message she is talking about.

I found the conversation to be as rewarding as I found other recent ones to be sad. It was a good reminder that changes are not usually abrupt. They are gradual. They begin with something that happens on a single occasion and gradually become more commonplace.

We ended the day at Casa Bella for jazz night. We both enjoyed ourselves though as on other occasions, Kate was very quiet. There were six of us at our table, and four of us are talkers. Kate and one other woman tend to be on the quiet side.

I would love to see another day like that today.

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Off to an Early Start

I’ve spoken a lot about Kate’s sleeping late over the past few months, so I should let you know that she was up at 6:00 this morning. That itself is not unusual. She often gets up between 5:00 and 7:00 to go to the bathroom and then back to bed. Today was different. I saw her getting ready to shower. I told her what time it was and that she could go back to sleep if she wanted. She indicated she was ready to get up. I got her towels and clothes ready for her and left her. She was ready for Panera before 7:30.

We surprised everybody at Panera. We had never arrived so early. We even beat the group from the Catholic Church who stop by for coffee and pastries after mass each day. The two people working the front counter commented on our early arrival, and one of the managers came to our table to say she had missed us lately. We have seen several others we know. It was like “old home week.”

Being so early led to a humorous moment. About 9:00 (an hour and a half after our arrival), Kate gave me a look that I recognized as “I think it’s time to go.” We got things together and said goodbye to our Catholic friends. When we got outside, Kate said, “Now we can get some lunch.” I told her it would be a while before lunch and asked if she would like another muffin. She said she would. We turned around before getting into the car and took our place at the table we had just left. Our friends at the “Catholic table” chuckled and welcomed us back. They all know about Kate, and are very understanding.

When we came back in, I set up Kate’s iPad while Kate went over to get a drink. I noticed that she was a little unsure about what to do and asked if she would like me to get her drink. She said she would. Then she asked me where I wanted her to sit. At that moment, we were standing beside our table with her iPad opened to her puzzle. She rarely sees it without my pointing it out to her.

A little later we received a phone call from our daughter. That, of course, was a bright spot in our morning. Before going back to our table, Kate responded to a woman seated near us. It was someone whose husband had been a friend of my dad’s. Both of them died five years ago. It had been that long since we had seen her. We had a nice conversation with at her table. When we were through, Kate asked for my help in getting back to our table that is about 12-15 feet away.

It is now 10:45. It looks like we will be here until we leave for lunch. I’m not sure about Kate, but it’s been a very nice morning for me. I think it’s been good for her. Although she doesn’t talk as much as I do, I think she benefits from the stimulation of being with people. All the encounters are pleasant ones as well. I think it’s good for both of us.

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Not Quite Herself Yesterday

When I got home yesterday afternoon, I was eager to see how things had gone with the sitter. Kate seemed so disoriented that I hated to leave her. I left a DVD of Les Miserables for Mary to use if they wanted to watch it. They did watch it, at least Mary did. She said that Kate watched a while and then took a nap. They had just returned to the family room from our bedroom before I arrived. Mary said that Kate seemed to enjoy it before deciding to rest.

After Mary left, Kate said she was glad to see me and then asked my name and her name. Then she asked if we had children. When I said yes, she wanted me to tell her about them. We continued the discussion as we drove to dinner. I mentioned something about our grandchildren. When I told her their ages, she was floored.

We Apart from asking questions about us and our family, she was rather subdued today. She didn’t say much at dinner nor after we got home. The DVD of Les Miserables was still in the player, so I backed it up and played the last fifteen minutes for her. She continued working on her iPad without showing much emotion. I have tried to be very upbeat with her, and she has responded momentarily. It didn’t last, however.

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Forgetting Les Miserables

We went to Panera for lunch today. In the car, Kate asked my name. After telling her, I mentioned Jesse. She said, “Who?” I said, “Jesse is our daughter.” She said, “What’s her name again?” I told her. Then I told her the names of her husband and their sons. At lunch, she asked my name at least three or four times. She asked her father’s name and her own.

I told her that this afternoon I was going to meet with our insurance man who is retiring and wanted me to meet the man is taking his practice. I also mentioned a dental appointment after that. Then I told her that Mary would be staying with her and that I had set up the DVD player for them to play Les Miserables if they wanted to. She looked puzzled and asked the name again. When I told her, I was the one who was surprised. She didn’t remember the musical at all. She said she would try it but didn’t express any enthusiasm. It was hard to believe we have watched it so much over the past seven or eight weeks. It seems like her memory is getting worse each day.

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A Very Sad Moment

I just went into our bedroom to wake up Kate. She opened her eyes right away. The soft music I turned on about fifteen minutes before must have worked. I sat down on the side of the bed and told her good morning. She looked up at me and didn’t say anything. I said, “I love you.” When I did, tears welled up in her eyes. She had a very sad look on her face. As I have noted before, she is not one to cry. She held back her tears but didn’t say anything. Then she said, “What’s your name?” I rubbed her back for a few minutes and then told her I would always be here to take care of her. She said, “That’s good.” I told her I would like to take her to lunch. After a few minutes, I helped her up and showed her the clothes I had picked out for her. Then she went to the shower.

I can’t be sure what brought on the tears or the anxiety last night. Her tears followed my saying that I love her. I wonder if my expression of love and her not knowing my name hit her in some way. It hasn’t done that before. I don’t believe she remembers that she has Alzheimer’s. I know, however, that she recognizes the changes that are taking place. She has expressed that concern before. I believe that is causing her anguish. She knows she is losing touch with the world around her and wants it to stop.

It is ironic that when I was at Rotary on Monday, one of the members asked me how Kate was doing. I told her. Then she said, “At least she is not aware.” I quickly said, “Oh, no. She does know, not that it is Alzheimer’s, but she knows she is losing her memory.” I must admit that I thought by this time she would just drift away without realizing she has a problem. That’s another of my expectations that was wrong.

As I have mentioned many times, the most difficult part of this journey is the sadness I  experience at moments like this. It is very painful knowing that she is troubled. I don’t look forward to the next part of this journey when she won’t have the same recogition, but I hate to see her suffer now.

The sitter is coming this afternoon. I have a meeting at 1:15, a dental appointment at 2:00, and another meeting at 3:15. It’s going to be harder than usual for me to leave her. I think I will set up the DVD of Les Miserables so that Mary can play it for her while I am gone.

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Predicting the Future and Planning Ahead

Among the news dominating the airways today is Hurricane Florence as it approaches the East Coast of the U.S. It reminds me that at some time or other all of us find ourselves attempting to predict the future and consider our options. Of course, some things are easier to predict than others. Predicting the path of a hurricane has improved decidedly over the years; however, a lot of the things that you and I try to predict are much less reliable.

That leads me to comment on my own expectations for the future with respect to Kate’s Alzheimer’s as well as how I will respond to it. First, I’d like to say that I have recognized the importance of living in the moment with Kate. Just about everything we do is geared toward making the most of our time together. I am satisfied that it has worked to our benefit.

On the other hand, I tend to be a planner. I believe in the value of making preparations for the future. For me, that has meant understanding the various options available to us depending on Kate’s situation. Since Kate and I played a significant role in caring for my mother, who had an undiagnosed form of dementia, and Kate’s mother, who had vascular dementia, I have been painfully aware of where the journey ends. I am also well-acquainted and experienced with the variety of care options that are available to us during the progression of her illness.

As far as knowing if and when we might need to exercise one or more of these options, I’ve been far from omniscient. My mother died about four years after her doctor (actually, the social worker) told us she had dementia. My dad and I knew it sometime before then. If I had known then what I know now, I would have approached the doctor earlier. I suppose I was like most people. I just thought she was experiencing normal memory loss that accompanies aging. Besides that, I didn’t recognize ways in which Dad and I might be proactive in making Mom’s life easier. Looking back, I think Dad intuitively did the right things. He kept her actively engaged. Even near the end of her life, he usually took her with him when he went out. Of course, he had little option since he would never accept our getting help.

Kate’s mother died six or seven years after a stroke that led to her vascular dementia. For almost that entire period of time, she received in-home round-the-clock care, a year or two in her home in Fort Worth and almost five and a half years in our home in Knoxville.

Based on these two experiences, I never would have guessed that Kate and I would be able to enjoy ourselves so much at this stage of her illness. My approach as always has been to continue to do all that we can for as long as we can. At each stage, I have tried to look ahead to be prepared. Along the way I’ve asked myself the following questions. How long can we live a normal life?

How long will we be able to travel?

What will happen to our annual trips to Chautauqua?

When will I have to seek in-home care?

Will I be able to keep her at home as her mother did for her father? As my father did for my mother? As we did for Kate’s mother? If so, when will need 24/7 care and for how long?

Will I need to consider either or both of us moving to a care facility of some type? Independent living? Assisted living? Skilled nursing? A continuous care facility?

Shortly after the diagnosis, I thought that in 5-7 years we would be unable to have much pleasure. Within a couple of months, Kate and I both realized that we were living just as we were before. For the most part, that continued for another year or two. I realize now that this varies from one person or family to another. We have been more fortunate than I expected the entire way.

As far back as 2014, I thought our international travel was over. We traveled to New Zealand for three weeks. In May 2015, we took a trip to Switzerland for a similar period of time. That trip convinced me that was our last trip of that nature. It was simply getting too difficult for me to manage her and to handle the travel arrangements as well. In the Fall 2015, I made initial plans for a Mediterranean cruise from Barcelona to Amsterdam for May 2016. I could cancel without a penalty until the end of February. As Christmas approached, I began to question the viability of those plans. I decided to take a one-week cruise to the Caribbean in January 2016 just to see how well she (and I) got along. That experience convinced me to cancel our May cruise. Kate simply didn’t enjoy it as much as I had hoped. I think everything was too unfamiliar for her. It was simply too confusing.

Spending a week at Chautauqua during the summer was one of our favorite things. In 2016, for the first time we spent three weeks there. I was anticipating that as our last time there. I was wrong. I decided to try one more time. We went back in 2017 for a one-week stay. We enjoyed ourselves, but I was convinced that we would not be back. This time I was right.

Making the decision to engage in-home care was a big step. I never felt that I really wanted it from an emotional standpoint. I did, however, believe it was important to seek help if I wanted to care for Kate at home for the entire journey. This past Friday we completed our first year with a sitter. Once again, my guesses regarding the future were not accurate. That is probably a year or two later than I might have guessed after her diagnosis. We began with a schedule of three days a week for four hours each visit. That is still our schedule. I’ve moved slowly on increasing in-home care. I am grateful that we have been able to enjoy many pleasures a good bit longer than I expected, but I see more dramatic changes ahead. That is raising new questions about the future.

I suspect that this fall or winter I will add additional time. I haven’t been particularly good at predicting the future. I hope it won’t be necessary for a while longer.  I’ll say more about that and the possibilities for long-term care in Part 2.

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I love it when things go well with the sitter.

Recently, Kate has indicated that she likes being with me and that she feels “safe” with me. I suspect that she means something more than safe. I think she is expressing her dependence on me. She feels secure with me because she can ask me anything. I don’t  believe she feels the same way with our sitters. Several times lately, she has given me a scowl as I left her with them. She has been very careful not to convey this to the sitters themselves, at least when I am there.

Yesterday, when I got back from Rotary and a meeting at the Y, I found Kate and Anita sitting on the sofa in the family room going through one of her family photo books. This one focused on her mother’s family. While I was bringing in some things from the store and looking at our mail, the two of them continued for another ten minutes. They both seemed to be happy. That really made me feel good.

A little later at Barnes & Noble, Kate was working on her iPad when she needed help with several of her puzzles. This was far from the first time, but the specific problems suggest how difficult they are getting. She gave up on two of them and let me finish them for her. On another, she had only three pieces to complete the puzzle and was stumped. This is a 16-piece puzzle, so the pieces are large. One of the pieces was a corner. I showed her the piece and explained that it had two flat sides and would have to go in one of the corners. Then I showed her the three corners that were already filled and pointed to the empty space at the bottom right corner. I told her the piece would go in that spot. She didn’t understand. I put it in for her.

Next, I showed her the empty adjoining spaces and the two pieces that would go there. She couldn’t tell which one went where. This must be getting frustrating for her. I do hope that she doesn’t have to give up her puzzles.

It wasn’t long before she asked my name. I told her. She started to repeat it. Then she said, “Tell me again.” I told her. Within minutes, she asked again. I told her. She asked again. I told her again. Then she said, “And I am?”

We went straight from Barnes & Noble to Chalupas for dinner. Then we came back home. She went to brush her teeth. When she didn’t come into the family room, I looked for her. I found her in the hallway. I said, “There you are. I was looking for you.” She said, “Where do you want me?” I told her our bedroom and that she might want to get ready for bed. She asked me to get her something to wear. When I got back to her room, I found that she had been in bed in the guest room next to our bedroom. It was obvious that she had gotten confused about where she was to go.

At dinner, she told me she was tired and not likely to last long. She was right. She called it a night just before 9:00. Before she got to sleep, I walked into the bedroom humming something. She laughed and said, “You’re cute.” Then she said, “What’s your name?” And then, “What’s my name?” A few minutes later she said, “Where are we?”

It was a nice day, but I really wish she didn’t have to go through this.

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A Nice Day, But More Confusion

Kate surprised me by getting up early yesterday. She has always been slow to wake up, but I notice more confusion upon waking now. I walked in while she was brushing her teeth. Her first words to me were, “Who are you?” I gave her my name. Then she said, “What’s my name?” When I told her, she said, “You got it.” Then I wasn’t sure if she was just playing with me or if she really didn’t remember her name.

I think her confusion is why it takes her so long to get ready in the morning. Just taking a shower (usually short) and getting dressed sometimes takes over an hour. It often takes her longer to dry off after a shower than to take it. Since I am selecting her clothes, that doesn’t require much time except when she decides to wear something other than what I have chosen. The difficult part is getting the clothes on the right way. In the morning, I usually let her do that on her own. At night, however, I am usually with her when she undresses and puts on her night gown. It is not unusual for her to ask for my help. I see how challenging that is. That leads me to imagine greater difficulty getting fully dressed. I have started checking on her when she is getting dressed and ask if she would like my help. Sometimes she says she would. Most of the time, she likes me to leave her alone to take care of it.

Because Kate was up early, we got to Panera for the second day in a row. We were a little late, however, to see many people we know. Only two of the group from the Catholic church were there. They told us they had had a big crowd that morning.

At lunch, I said something that I wish I hadn’t. Our server asked us if we had done anything special during the week. At first, I said no. then I said, “Well, we watched Les Misérables for the seventh time in about seven weeks.” Kate was surprised. After the server left, she asked, “Did we really watch it seven times?” I told her we had. Then she said, “How could I forget that?” I said, “I don’t know.” Nothing more was said, and I saw no sign of any lingering concern on her part. I do wish I hadn’t said that. I don’t like to do anything that might cause her any additional anguish.

During our meal, Kate said she was tired. I thought that she might rest when we got home, but she didn’t. We spent the afternoon there. Late in the afternoon, we called our oldest grandson, Brian, who was 20 yesterday. Before we placed the call, Kate said, “I’ll just let you talk to him.” I don’t ever recall her saying anything like that before. I suspect it is another reflection of her insecurity. She is quite aware that her memory is poor. It does make conversation more difficult for her. We had a nice conversation with him and then talked with our granddaughter as well.

After the called ended, I asked if she would like to go to Barnes & Noble. She said, “What would we do there?” I told her she could work on her iPad. She didn’t want to go. Now that I reflect on it, I suspect she had forgotten that we normally go there to pass time in the afternoon. She seemed a little bored, and I thought it would be good to get out of the house. Instead we remained at home for another 45 minutes and then had an early dinner.

She wasn’t as chatty at dinner. She didn’t even ask my name or where we were. She was also little confused at home. She is clearly getting mixed up on the rooms and where she is to go. The previous night we had finished most of Les Miserables. I put it on and backed up about 45 minutes that we had watched earlier. Once again, she was enraptured right away. When it was over, we were off to bed. It was a little earlier than usual, but I thought that might help in getting her up this morning.

Just before 7:00 this morning, I heard her and went to the bedroom. She had just come out of the bathroom. I asked if she needed anything. She said she didn’t know. Then she said, “I think I’m supposed to go someplace.” I told her I couldn’t think of anything. She said, “I think it was to get my hair done.” I told her that wouldn’t be until next week and that it wasn’t yet 7:00, so she could rest a little more. About thirty minutes ago, I started some music. She hadn’t stirred, so I sat down on the bed. She looked up, and I told her I would like to take her to lunch. She said, “Okay.” I went back again at 10:35. She was awake but still in bed. I told her again that I would like to take her to lunch. She said she would like that. Then I said, “Of course, you would have to get up.” She said, “What will I wear?” I pointed to the clothes I had put on the chair beside her bed. I told her I had the shower all ready for her and pointed in the direction of our bathroom. She looked puzzled and said, “There?” I said yes. She didn’t look like she believed that was the bathroom. I told her to come with me, and I would show her. She got up and must now be in the shower. We’re running a little late, but we will make it. I’ll probably ask Anita to meet us at Panera.

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The Power of Music (Again)

As Kate loses more of her memory and experiences more confusion, I am happy to say that music continues to be uplifting for her and, of course, for me. I enjoy both the music and seeing her derive so much pleasure. It has led me to experiment a little more. As I mentioned in a previous post, I replaced a DVD of Sound of Music when she didn’t put down her iPad to watch. I wondered if she would respond differently to Les Miserables, her (and my) favorite musical. She responded immediately by putting down the iPad and watching intently. Last night, I picked up where we left off the previous night. Once again, she was quickly engaged. Periodically, she audibly expressed her pleasure. At one point she said, “I know we’ve seen this before, but I’m enjoying it just as much as this time.” That was the first time I recall her indicating that she had seen it before. I didn’t tell her it was the seventh time in the past seven or eight weeks.

Incidentally, I believe it is more than the music itself that causes Les Miserables to have such an impact on her. That musical is sometimes referred to as one of the most operatic of Broadway musicals. That is because virtually all the dialogue is sung the way it is in operas. That is especially true in the concert version that we have been watching. The production moves continuously from one song to another. That way she doesn’t get lost in the plot. All the other musicals we have are traditional in that there is a lot of dialogue in between songs. She can’t follow those. Thus, she can’t appreciate that part. Les Miserables allows her to simply enjoy the music without worrying about the plot at all.

In the past week, I have applied music to two other situations. The first is in the morning about 15-20 minutes before I would like her to get up. I’ve played a Joshua Bell album of very soft, melodic music. Yesterday, I asked if it bothered her. She said, “No, I love it.” It also seems to have the effect of gently waking her. I make sure that the volume is not too low, or she might sleep even longer.

That leads to my second experiment. I’ve always liked playing music at bedtime, but she has usually asked me to turn it off. The past few nights I have played an album of Russian sacred music. I had the volume turned down very low, but she noticed. She said, “That’s beautiful music. I like it.” It is ideal music for meditation, and I am hoping she finds it a relaxing way to drift off to sleep.

I have always told Kate that if I ever had a stroke I wanted her to make sure to play music for me. I went so far as to say that I was going to write down types of music and specific albums to play at different times of the day. I’ve never actually done that, but the advent of the iPod gave me the idea of storing my entire music library on one and creating the appropriate playlists. Now that technology has evolved even more, I do have my entire library on my phone. The funny thing is that with streaming there is little need for that. I still haven’t created those playlists, but I’m a lot closer to getting there. I never guessed that I would be playing music for Kate rather than her playing for me.

Much has been written about the power of music with people with dementia. I don’t need any formal studies to prove it to me. It has been great therapy for both of us.

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Kate and Conversation

Over the past couple of months, Kate has been far more talkative than at any time since the first year or two after her diagnosis. We discontinued her Trazadone in late May or early June. I think that might account for the change. It doesn’t help to fret, but it makes me wonder if we should have done this a lot earlier. It’s been a long time, but I remember times when she was so tired that she kept her eyes closed when we were at restaurants waiting for our food. I used to feel a little embarrassed about what others looking at the two of us might be thinking. Did they think I had hurt her in some way? She often looked so sad. That might have been avoided if I had connected it to her medication.

Talking a lot more is not the only change. As her memory has declined, she has had less to talk about. When the two of us talk, we stick largely to how we feel about our life together as well as our families. She speaks frequently about her mother and expresses very positive feelings but very few details about her. She also feels that we are very fortunate people. Again, she can remember few details. She most often mentions how fortunate we are to have been happily married for so long and to be so proud of our children. I fill in the facts on all of these things. I tell her about her mother and father, the things we have done, and what our children are doing.

Increasingly, she is asking more questions. That was especially true yesterday. At lunch at Applebee’s, she looked at me and asked, “Are you my father or my husband?” I told her I was her husband. Then she said, “I was afraid of that.” (Yesterday was also a day when she teased me a lot.) A minute later, she asked, “What is your name?” I told her and moments later, she asked again. That was followed by “Where are we?”

Questions about our family and names of places dominate her questions, but she also asks more surprising questions. For example, shortly after asking where we were, she asked how many Applebee’s there are. That didn’t surprise me. She has asked quite a few times before though not enough for me to remember. I always pull out my phone and get the answer. It isn’t limited to Applebee’s. As you might expect, she also asks about the number of Paneras and other franchises. One time she wondered how many times we had driven on the street that leads to our neighborhood. I did some quick calculations and came up with a “guesstimate” of 40,000. She’s asked a similar question about the main road that leads from town to our house. I haven’t calculated that one.

I find it interesting that she retains some interest in news events. That occurs when I am either watching the news on TV or on the radio in the car. She picks up something that is said and doesn’t understand it. In those cases, she wants me to explain. I always try but am often unsuccessful. Those conversations frequently end when she says, “Why don’t you tell me about it later when I’m more alert.”

On the way home from lunch, she asked, “Where is our house?” I told her Knoxville, but she wanted to where in Knoxville. I gave her the name of a hospital that is near the house. That worked. Once home, she stopped in the kitchen and said, “I’ll follow you.” That is always a sign that she doesn’t know where to go.

After dinner, we spent some time in the family room relaxing. She worked on her iPad and periodically looked out on the dense growth of trees on our neighbor’s property behind our house. She loves that view. At that point last night, she may have still thought we were staying someplace other than our home as she had earlier.

After I took a shower, she came back to our bedroom where I turned on a DVD of Sound of Music that we had started earlier in the week. I thought that she might immediately take an interest, but she was more interested in her jigsaw puzzles. That led me to see if she would react differently to Les Miserables. I didn’t say a word to her. I just took out Sound of Music and inserted Les Miserables. As soon as the music came on she looked up. Shortly thereafter, she put way her iPad and devoted her attention to the music.

I was hoping to turn it off before 9:30 so that she could get to bed. When I mentioned that to her, she said she wanted to watch a little more. At 10:00, I stopped it and suggested that she get ready for bed. She agreed even though she would have continued watching for a good while. This was the seventh time we have watched it recently. Her response was as enthusiastic as it was the first time.

We were in bed around 10:15. I was the one who was ready to go to sleep. She was in a talkative mood. She talked a lot about how fortunate we had been as a couple. Although she has forgotten a lot of details, she does remember some important things. For example, she mentioned the fact that her parents and my parents had long and happy marriages. Her parents and mine really were devoted to each other. She said, as she has many times before, “The most important thing is that we have had a good marriage, and we are proud of our children.” That is interesting in that earlier in the day I had said something about our children. She said, “I have children?” The last time I glanced at the clock it was 11:00. She was still going but slowing down. I don’t remember much after that.

Although she has been more talkative with me, she is less talkative in groups. Except for greeting people when we get to Casa Bella for their music nights, she talks very little. I would have to say that it can be a challenge. We often sit with three couples. All three of the men are talkers. I don’t think, however, it is just that. She simply doesn’t remember enough things that people are talking about to make a comment. When people ask her direct questions, she usually looks to me to provide the answer.