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Yesterday was a full but good day.

A lot happened yesterday, and I know I won’t be able to capture all of the relevant things I would like. That’s probably a good thing. I’ve always admired people who seem to be able to recall the details of their experiences during a day. I’ve never been particular good at that, but I’ll try.

I need to back up to Sunday. That afternoon Kate took a two-hour nap. I finally woke her up and suggested we go to Barnes & Noble. I was concerned that she might not be able to get to sleep that night. It turned out that I was right. She was in a talkative mood at bedtime. I don’t know when she got to sleep. I know she was awake about 11:30. That concerned me because I knew we planned to drive to Nashville yesterday morning to have lunch with our friends Ann and Jeff Davis before paying a visit to Kate’s very close friend, Ellen, who is now in a memory care facility.

Kate surprised me. I knew that she was awake when I got up at 6:00, but I expected that she would go right back to sleep, and I would have to wake her to get ready. Instead, I heard her getting ready about 7:30. This was another time that I had gotten our bathroom ready for her shower only to find that she had gotten up earlier and showered in another bathroom.

She had already picked out the pants she wanted to wear. I went to her closet and picked out three tops and let her choose the one she liked best. I also put out her shoes and socks. When she came out ready to go, she was wearing a golf shirt that must have been mine by the size of it. It fit her like a tunic and had TCU emblazoned on the shirt pocket. She was also wearing shoes and socks that were not the ones I had picked out and didn’t match as well. I didn’t say anything about the shirt, but I did bring her the shoes and socks. She didn’t complain at all and simply changed them.

Before leaving, I mentioned that we were going to have lunch with the Davises. She frowned and said, “You’ll have to tell me something about our children that I can tell them.” I mentioned a few things. We both realized this wasn’t going to work. She said, “You’ll just have to do the talking.” I should emphasize that she wasn’t upset about visiting with the Davises; it was her own insecurity about her memory. This is another good illustration of how long into this journey she has been able to recognize her problem and to be insecure about it. She exhibited a similar reaction after our visit with Ellen.

As it turned out, the conversation with the Davises went very smoothly. A lot had happened since our last visit, so Kate didn’t get put on the spot to say anything about our children. They asked about our children, and I answered for her. It was a nice visit.

From there we went to Ellen’s. We found that she had declined noticeably since we saw her three weeks ago. We could understand very little of what she said. We also found she is beginning to exhibit a few of the symptoms that accompany dementia. One of those occurred shortly after we arrived. I had taken a DVD of Les Miserables. I had intended to play a portion of it later in our visit, but communication was so difficult that I put it on not long after got there. Initially, Ellen was quite interested. She was even a little disturbed when some of the staff were talking loudly and made it more difficult for us to hear. Then she turned around in her wheel chair and started to leave the room. I asked where she was going. Through a few words that I could pick up and her gestures, including touching her hair, I discovered that she thought she had an appointment with the hair dresser. I checked and found that the hair dresser doesn’t come until Wednesday. Then Ellen wanted us to go back to her room where we spent almost the entire visit.

Once we reached her room, I got out my iPad and opened the YouTube app, and we had an hour-long “concert” of music performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. That was a winner. She and Kate became engrossed in the music. We only stopped when it was near the time for us to leave, and Ellen wanted to use the bathroom. I called one of the attendants to help her and closed up the iPad.

As we walked to our car, Kate said, “I’m so sad.” She was disturbed to see Ellen had changed. She also seemed to be concerned that the staff had no awareness that Ellen was a musician (singer, pianist, choir director, and TV producer). We had mentioned this to someone the last time we were there, but, of course, the message doesn’t get around to everyone. Then Kate said, “I’m so glad I have you to take care of me.” I don’t know exactly what was going on in her mind. It sounded like she was thinking about herself and happy that she was at home under my care. In the car, she expressed her appreciation to me. She said, “I couldn’t get along without you. Well, I could get along, but it wouldn’t be the same.” She paused and said admittingly, “I really couldn’t get along without you.” She displays far more awareness of her situation and other people than I would have expected at this stage.

We capped off our day by eating at the same place we had eaten the last time we visited Ellen. It’s a bit fancier and pricier than what we are accustomed to but made for another special time together. I had a delicious sangria followed by an Ahi Tuna entrée. Kate had grilled trout that was quite good. She said it as “OK,” but she ate all of it along with the creamed spinach that came with it. We topped it off with a calorie-laden bread pudding.

The trip home was uneventful. That’s a good thing. It was another good day for us.

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Connecting with Friends, Discovering More Memory Problems

Kate and I are at that age when we take greater interest in connecting with old friends. We’ve done some of that in the past few weeks. The first is a long-time friend of Kate’s, Meg Wright, who lives in Dallas. She and Kate grew up together in Fort Worth, and Meg was a bridesmaid in our wedding. We don’t see her often, but we have enjoyed getting together with her when we are in Dallas. The last time was almost a year ago. She called a few weeks ago to speak with Kate. They had a nice chat. After they were finished, I sent her an email letting her know how much Kate had appreciated the call. When she replied, she indicated that she may be in the early stages of dementia herself. She said they were experimenting with some medications and was going to check in with the doctor soon. I have followed up with her in a couple of emails including this past week. Nothing is definite yet, but the signs point to dementia. I would have wanted to stay in touch regardless, but now I feel it is especially important to be someone with an encouraging word for her.

On Friday, I placed a call to Reggie Stone who lives in Raleigh. He and I became close friends in Madison where we were both PhD students in sociology. We both began our careers as professors and ended up in the business world. We were very close and had remained in touch for quite a few years. Somehow in the past ten years, we have had very little contact. I decided to end that with my phone call. They were not available at the time, but his wife and I connected via email and set up a phone call yesterday afternoon. Reggie and I talked for almost an hour. It was like old times, at least for me. I hope the same for him.

In our conversation, I learned about a second heart attack and their move to a continuing care facility. He and his wife, Dot, are still active and enjoying themselves, but it seems their lives are also changing. Reggie told me that he no longer drives nor works on a computer. When I asked him a question about something that had happened in the past, he said his memory was not as good as it used to be. I followed up with an email to Dot who confirmed that he has not yet gotten a diagnosis but is encountering memory issues.

In an earlier post I mentioned last week’s meeting with a church friend whose daughter may have early onset dementia. The problem they are having now is getting a clear diagnosis. All of these recent contacts with people I know illustrate that dementia is a more common experience than we often realize. It also encourages me to play a greater role in doing what I can to encourage and help others who are currently living with Alzheimer’s. At this point, my primary role is to care for Kate. I hope that this blog may benefit some people. In the years ahead I may be able to do more to satisfy my desire to help other caregivers and people with dementia.

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Confusion at Dinner

Tonight at dinner Kate said, “Where are we staying tonight?” I told her we were staying in our very own home that wasn’t far from the restaurant. I could tell by the question that she must have thought we were out of town. A little later, I asked our sitter for something. After that, she said, “I like traveling with you. Do you know why?” I said, “No, why?” She said, “Because your nice . . .” She couldn’t think of how to say what she wanted. I said, “Do you mean nice to the people who serve us?” She said, “Yes.” Once again, it sounded like she thought we were out of town. As we drove away from the restaurant, she said, “Exactly (with emphasis on that word) where are we now?” I told her we were in Knoxville and going to our home that was only a few minutes away. She seemed to accept that, but before we got home she said something else that made me think she was thinking we were not in Knoxville. I just don’t remember what it was.

This is not an unusual occurrence. As I reflected on it, it didn’t seem so strange at all. If she can’t remember where she is, every place can seem like we are some other place than home. For some reason that had never struck me before. This becomes just another example of how important one’s memory is.

Earlier we had been talking about our parents. I commented that I wished we had asked her mother and father to tell us what their parents were like as they were growing up. At our younger ages, we never thought of asking that. Now all we know about them is biographical information – where and when they were born, when they married and died, etc. We really don’t know a thing about their personalities and what they were like as parents. At some point, I mentioned something about her mother’s having married her father. She looked startled. She said, “My mother married my father?” I told her they were married in 1936 and asked, “Are you surprised?” She definitely was.

We had a very pleasant meal and are enjoying a little music and relaxation before adjourning to the bedroom to watch a portion of Sound of Music. Before we sat down, she was looking for her iPad. I knew it had been on the floorboard of the car on the driver’s side. Even though I was sure that I had come in with it, I went out to check. It wasn’t there. That confirmed that it must be in the house. I took a quick look around and didn’t find it. I told her I would use the “Find My iPhone” app to locate it. It frequently comes in handy. I got my iPad and walked from the kitchen into the family room. Kate was just walking into the family room from one of the bedrooms. I was focusing on the app and pressed the button to sound the missing iPad. It sounded immediately. It was in Kate’s arms. She had obviously forgotten that it was lost and I was trying to locate it.

Even with the confusion, we are getting along at the moment as if none of this confusion had occurred. It’s just an ordinary day.

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Kate and Humor

Although Kate enjoys humor, she’s never been a kidder. I grew up with a dad who lived his whole life as a kidder. The week before his 100th birthday and two weeks before he died, a young staff member at his nursing facility asked what advice he had for someone who wanted to live as long as he had. He answered, “Don’t die.” He was a light-hearted guy who saw humor in just about everything. He was even a “cut-up” in the emergency room where we made any number of visits. I tend to be a more moderate version of him. That may be having an impact on Kate right now. I find that she teases me a lot as her Alzheimer’s progresses. Not being a kidder by nature, it often fails to come across as humor though I recognize it as such. I’ve had a few examples of that already today.

Out of the blue at lunch, she said, “Those are the ugliest glasses I have ever seen.” That’s the first time I recall her saying anything about my glasses. Usually, she comments about my nose. That has been something of a family joke. Dad had a moderately bulbous nose that seemed to be more pronounced as he got older. I inherited his nose and have been kidded about that before.

Kate also frequently says, “I’m glad I married you even though you’re not handsome.” As we were driving home from lunch, she said, “I think husbands should be handsome, and wives should be beautiful.” Then she added, “I compromised a little in your case.”

I tend to be careful about running a red light and often stop the moment the caution light appears. Kate has always thought I overdo that. Today, I went through a caution light when I could have easily stopped. I said, “I should have stopped. I could have.” She said, “You shouldn’t worry about it. You’re a good guy.” Then she said, “Who are you?” She wasn’t kidding this time. I told her, and she said, “Who am I?”

That leads to something else she kids me about, my last name – Creighton. She likes her maiden name (Franklin) better. She often expresses this preference when I tell her my name. She passed up that opportunity today. In fact, a few minutes later, she said, “I think it’s a good thing that women take their husband’s names.” I asked her why. That put her on the spot. She didn’t say anything for a moment or two. I could tell she was thinking. Then she gave me an explanation that seemed not to make any sense at all. I said, “So you don’t think it would have been good for me to take your name?” It became clear that I was going too far. She said, “Let’s not talk about this right now. This is getting silly.”

We’re back home now, and she is resting on the sofa across from me in the family room. I have a Chris Botti album on the sound system. It’s a beautiful day though warmer than I would like. It looks like we’ll have a peaceful afternoon.

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More Surprises This Morning

I got home from my morning walk at 8:00 and went to the pool to meditate. When I came into the house, I noticed that Kate had gotten up. I went back to our bathroom where I had everything prepared for her shower but found that she had not used our shower. I decided to let her get ready at her own pace and went back to the kitchen. Just before 8:45, I went back to check on her. She was walking into the family room dressed for the day. I was quite surprised for two reasons. First, She rarely gets up before 9:00 and recently been sleeping until after 10:00, often after 10:30. Second, it usually take her an hour and a half to get ready. I didn’t see any signs that she had taken a shower. That, too, is very unusual.

As she walked toward me, she held up a pair of socks and said, “I have extra socks.” We both walked to the kitchen where I had put her morning meds. Then she said, “Underwear.” When she wants or needs something she often just uses a single word, so I asked if she needed underwear. She did. That told me she had forgotten where she keeps her underwear. I got it and brought it back to her.

When she finished her meds, I was in the bedroom and heard her call my name. Once again, she was able to remember my name when she needed something. When I got to the kitchen, she held up the pair of socks she was carrying a few minutes earlier and said, “Look what I found.” I asked what she was going to do with them. She said she didn’t know. I asked if she would like me to put them in her sock drawer. She said she did, and I took them back to her room.

On the way to Panera, I said something and could tell that she preferred that I not talk. I said, “I’m not going to say another word.” She said, “We’ll see. You can’t help yourself.” When I didn’t say anything else, she said, “What do you know?” She obviously remembers that I am a talker.

When we turned into the parking lot at Panera, she said, “Surprise, surprise.” It was clear that she recognized where we were. Just before we got out of the car, she teased me about something. I expressed surprise. She smiled and said, “I guess I’ve been married to you too long.” Aha, she remembered that we are married.

We had arrived before 9:00. While we were seated at our table, she said, “Panera.” Then she beamed. She was proud to have remembered. Since she hadn’t gotten to bed any earlier last night, I figured that we might not stay there too long. About 10:00, she said she wanted to go. Then she looked at her iPad and asked, “Is this theirs or ours?” I told her it was hers. We got our things together and came home where she worked on her iPad a while and then rested about thirty minutes. We left for lunch a short time after that.

On the way to lunch, she asked me at least three times where we were. When we were ready to return home, she wanted to use the ladies room. Even though it is very close to where we sit, I have learned that it is best to walk with her. While she was in the restroom, I chatted with our server. I told her that Kate had been making a lot of changes in the past few weeks. She was surprised. She said, she couldn’t tell any difference at all. When Kate came out of the restroom, she had no idea where to look for me. Fortunately, I stayed within ten feet of the restrooms. I saw her puzzled look and walked over to her, and we left. On the way home, she again asked where we were. Right now her primary questions seem to be “What is your name?” and “Where are we?” Those must be the two most important things she needs to know. I can understand that. What is hard for me to understand is what it must be like not to know the name of the person with whom I have the closest relationship or the name of the city I am in.

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There are always little surprises.

About an hour before we left for dinner Thursday night, Kate came into the family room and brought with her two pair of socks and a tube of toothpaste with a missing top. She pointed to the photo book her brother made for her and asked, “Should I take this?” I told her I didn’t think she would need it at Casa Bella. She said, “Okay” and sat down in a chair with her iPad.

As we were about to leave for dinner, she picked up the two pair of socks she had earlier placed on the table beside her. She said, “I want to take these.” I said, “Do you think you’ll need them?” She said, “Not right now, but I really want these black socks.” Then she added, “These white ones too.” I got up to go, and she said, “I think I had better go to the bathroom now.” She had the socks in her hand and said, “I want to keep these.” I put out my hand and said, “I could put them in your sock drawer.” She gave me a big smile and handed them to me. The tube of toothpaste remained on a table.

We had a very nice time at Casa Bella. This was not one of their music nights, so we ate in the smaller front section of the restaurant. Until we started attending their music nights the first, second, and third Thursdays of the month, we always ate in this section. It felt a little like coming home. Over the years, this is where we had come to celebrate special moments as well as to console ourselves when we needed to be comforted. It is very quiet and offered just the right setting for reminiscing. At one point in our conversation, Kate asked, “What is the name of this place?” I shouldn’t have been surprised that she didn’t remember the restaurant’s name, but I was. We’ve been coming here almost 47 years. We are here at least three nights a month. We know the family that owns it. As Kate’s brother, Ken, reminded me yesterday morning, she doesn’t usually remember my name and we have been married 55 years and had our first date a year and a half before then. I shouldn’t expect her to remember the name of the restaurant.

Both the strange behavior and the increasing loss of memory continue to mix with many aspects of her behavior that are perfectly normal. I suppose that is what throws me. Some things are as they always were while others are new. We can’t have things the way they were and are adapting to a new world.

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Kate changes. I change. Things don’t always work out.

As Kate has been sleeping later in the morning and also becoming more dependent, I have been making my own changes. I know that I have talked a lot about living in Kate’s world, and that it has worked. I’m not sure that I have also stressed that caregivers must also engage their rational abilities as well. That means shifting gears to solve or prevent problems. I’ll give you an example of what happened this morning.

It has become increasingly challenging for Kate to select her clothes in the morning. She has tried selecting them the night before, but she usually forgets some of the things she will need (e.g., her shoes, socks, a top, etc.). I decided to address this issue last week and have been selecting her clothes either the night before or in the morning before she is up. This has worked pretty well.

You may remember that she fell out of the shower last week. I decided it was safer for her to shower in our bathroom that has a walk-in shower. Some mornings, she chooses our bathroom anyway. This past week I caught her before she was about to use a shower in another bathroom and suggested that she use ours. That worked.

When she showers, she often uses several towels. That usually means at least two bath towels. In addition, she often uses one or more hand towels and, sometimes, the bathmat. When she finishes she drops or throws them on the floor or counter tops or whatever is nearby. That’s not a problem for me when she is using another bathroom; however, it conflicts with my OCD when she uses our bathroom. I try to keep all the towels, toothbrushes, and toothpaste in their “proper” places. That means a clean up after she showers. Since she doesn’t know which towels are hers, she often gets mine. To solve that I started keeping two on top of the counter directly across from the shower and pointed them out to her. Once or twice she has used at least one, but she still opens a drawer and pulls out one or two other hand and/or bath towels.

When I had the bathroom redone, I had two hooks installed inside the shower to hold towels. That way the person showering could dry off without opening the door. That gave me another idea. After my shower last night, I hung two bath towels for her on the hooks. In addition, I left the original two towels for her on the counter in case she wanted more. I thought I had it made. I had adequately addressed the problem, for me anyway. The shower issue was no problem for her. It was solely mine.

Now I can tell you the results I had with my little experiment. Kate went to bed earlier last night, so I thought about the possibility that she might wake up earlier this morning. I checked on her once or twice, and she was still sleeping. I got busy on my own things. When I checked on her again, I discovered that she had already showered and not in our bathroom, so I hung her towels back on the towel rack where they are normally kept. I can’t say that my plan for the shower didn’t work. I just slipped up and didn’t get to her quickly enough.

Next I noticed that she had left all the clothes I had put out for her right where I had put them last night. She had gotten out her own clothes except for a top. I went to her closet and brought one to her. I also got her a pair of shoes and socks. She suggested that I let her take care of the rest, and I did. When she was ready to go to Panera (yes, we were early enough for that), I noticed that she wasn’t wearing the top I had picked out. I didn’t say anything because the one she picked out was just fine. This often happens. I am never sure if she just didn’t want to wear the one I picked out or if she misplaced the one I had given her. I think both of those things happen from time to time. I don’t worry about this. The important thing is that she has a top to wear. However, it’s one more example of the things that I do to prevent a problem only to discover it didn’t work the way I intended. I’m just glad our problems are not bigger than this, except for her Alzheimer’s itself. That, of course, is the biggest issue we have faced in our entire marriage.

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What is different between caring for a parent and caring for a spouse?

Sometime during the late summer or early fall of 1993, I received a call from my mother. Calls like this one were always from my mother, not my father. In our conversation, she brought up the topic of their planning ahead and thinking of moving out of West Palm Beach to some place that would be closer to either my brother or me. We didn’t settle anything in that conversation, but after that I talked with Kate and then Larry who talked with his wife. Together we decided that being near to us would be a good option, and over Memorial Day weekend in 1994, I flew to West Palm Beach and drove them to Knoxville. The movers delivered their furniture the following day.

Although I knew that my dad had had several medical problems over the years, I didn’t think that might be the motivation for their move. I still don’t know. I do know that three or four years later, the social worker at their gerontological practice informed us that Mom had dementia. She approached the subject with us very delicately, but we already knew. Exactly when we became aware I am not sure. It wasn’t right away. Now that I have had a little more experience with dementia, I feel sure that she was showing signs of dementia before their move. She died in 2002, four or five years after the social worker gave us the news.

I spent a significant amount of time with my parents immediately after they arrived in Knoxville and through her death. After her diagnosis, I was particularly attentive to helping Dad to the extent I was able. I was still working and traveling, but I was with them a good bit. During the last year or two of Mom’s life, I frequently took them an evening meal. Larry and I worked with the social worker to design a plan for their care as Mom’s condition worsened. Dad was never receptive to having anyone come in to help. Neither was he interested in moving to an assisted living facility. He didn’t have the financial resources to pay for it, but Larry and I were already subsidizing their income significantly and would have been willing to pay for it.

Looking back, I am amazed that Dad was able to handle her care so well. I never heard him complain. He did many things to keep her active. They delivered Meals on Wheels. They volunteered at a local senior center. They attended a local theater. They made a lot of friends. When she died at home, he was turning her every two hours. Fortunately, that lasted only a day or two.

I thought I understood exactly what he was going through as her caregiver. Since Kate’s diagnosis, I feel I really understood very little. I also feel quite different about Kate than I did about my mother. I loved Mom, but I never felt as troubled or sad as I have felt about Kate. I have also read a lot about other caregivers who cared for their parents. As a result, I have made two observations. First, I realize how easy it is for sons and daughters to miss the many signs of dementia. Second, I am often surprised at how long it takes for us to take action. These go hand in hand. Unless we are living with our parents, we don’t fully grasp the symptoms of dementia.

I don’t believe that I have felt differently about Kate’s Alzheimer’s than that of my mother’s because I loved Mom any less. I believe it’s because sons and daughters whose parent is not living with them never have sufficient information to fully understand what is happening. It is easy to miss. Many of the people who have known Kate have been surprised to know that she has Alzheimer’s as well as how far along she is. That is because they don’t have the same opportunity to observe all of the symptoms. They see her doing much better than they can imagine. They generally imagine the latter stages of dementia.  They don’t understand how much time there can be between the first signs and the state of a person at the end. In addition, they don’t understand that someone with dementia still retains many capabilities even as they lose others.

Of course, there is something more that makes me respond differently to Kate than to my mom. That’s the nature of the relationship itself. At least in successful marriages, the two partners live such intertwined lives that in a way each becomes a part of the other. At lunch on Tuesday, I noticed a “Yin Yang” tattoo on the arm of the hostess. I pointed it out to Kate. It was no surprise that is something that has faded from her memory. She asked about it, so I pulled up a picture on my phone and then explained the meaning of it. As I did, I thought it applied beautifully to our marriage and that of many other couples as well. In significant ways, we are very different personalities, but we complement each other. We also overlap in other important ways. During the past 55 years, we have shared many highs and lows together. There is no other person with whom I have shared so many significant experiences. In our particular case, that has been especially important in helping us adapt to the changes brought on by Kate’s Alzheimer’s.

It also means that what happens to her also happens to me. When she suffers, I suffer. When her life changes, my life changes. This helps me understand the difference in the way I feel about her compared to the way I felt about my mom. Not living with my mom, I never fully understood what she was experiencing. Perhaps more importantly, the love relationship between a husband and wife is quite a bit different from the love one has for a parent. It isn’t that it’s any less. It’s just different.

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A Timely Reminder of How Fortunate We Are

Helen Keller is reputed to have said, “I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man with no feet.” I feel that way right now. I am writing from Whole Foods where I came after meeting with someone for two hours. I had planned to go straight to the Y, but I really would not have had sufficient time before getting back home to relieve Mary. This gives me a moment to say something about my meeting.

The man with whom I met is a church acquaintance. A friend had mentioned that his daughter was having memory problems that sounded like early onset Alzheimer’s. She suggested that I connect with him. On Monday, I sent him an email telling him that I had heard we might be experiencing similar situations. I asked if he would be interested in getting together sometime. He responded shortly thereafter and arranged for today’s meeting.

I was prepared to hear a very familiar story. Instead, I learned that he and his wife have been struggling for two years to get a diagnosis for their daughter’s memory problems. They have consulted a variety of expert experts in dementia and other neurological problems without success. The initial neurological examinations and tests at a well-known out-of-state hospital found no signs of dementia. Subsequently, they have consulted with other experts who are unable to provide a clear diagnosis. In the meantime, the daughter is on disability, and the insurance will soon stop paying her because they have not been able to find a physical cause. Her policy doesn’t cover psychological problems.

While I have no clinical expertise to hazard a guess as to the source of the problem, I can say that her symptoms sound very much like the ones that Kate has had. Her memory is poor, and she is no longer able to operate her computer that was an essential part of her job.

In addition to the memory issues, she went through a difficult divorce prior to this. To further complicate the situation, she and her daughter, who is between 20 and 25, are not getting along. There are other issues as well.

After hearing him talk for just almost an hour, I didn’t want to tell him anything about Kate and me. He felt bad about talking so much, and I gave him a brief summary. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him a lot. I thought that couldn’t help him and might make him feel worse. I did come away believing once again that Kate and I are very lucky people.

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Confusion, Growing Dependence, But Happy Times As Well

Kate’s confusion continues and along with that her dependence on me. Despite her confusion over our marriage, we had a nice lunch. We had two brief social encounters with friends we hadn’t seen in a while. One was a former neighbor, the other a member of our music club. After lunch yesterday, we came back to the house for a little over an hour before we went for our hair appointments. During that time, we relaxed in the family room where Kate worked on her iPad. The music was relaxing. It was a very pleasant moment in the day.

After our haircuts, we were off to Barnes & Noble where we also saw a couple of friends who stopped at our table to chat. From there we went to Bonefish Grill for dinner. Once again, we saw several people we know from our neighborhood and had a good meal.

When we got home, we spent a little time in the family room where I watched the news. Then we retired to the bedroom for more of Fiddler on the Roof. After saying yesterday that Kate only puts down her iPad for Les Miserables, I noticed that she quickly became engaged with Fiddler. We watched for an hour during which time she never opened the iPad. Watching an hour or so of a musical she enjoys is becoming a good way to end the day. She enjoys herself must direct her attention away from confusion and loss of memory.

I am noticing more confusion at bedtime now. It is something that has been happening for a good while. It’s just that now she seems to be especially confused about getting ready for bed. That has obviously happened in the past when she has gone to her room to get a night gown and not come back with one. During the past few days, I have taken the lead and said, “I’ll get your nightgown.” She says, “That would be nice” or “Thank you.” There is no sign of independence. I think by that time of the day she wants what is the easiest thing.

I woke her at 10:40 this morning. I think she was about half awake anyway, and I would like for us to get to lunch before Mary comes at 1:00. She got up easily, but it was obvious that she was confused. She asked me what I wanted her to do. I told her she could take a shower in our bathroom. She asked, “Where is that?” I point to it and told her I would show her. I got towels out for her. She seemed very unsure of herself. I definitely feel better about her showering in our bathroom because of the walk-in shower. She has showered there every day since her fall last week. I feel we were fortunate that she didn’t hurt herself. The next day I asked her if she felt any pain from the fall. She didn’t remember the fall and didn’t have any pain.

Life is quite a mix of things right now. I suspect this is only the beginning. I am just glad that we can still enjoy time together. I would not have believed it 7 ½ years ago.