Loving Through Alzheimer's Disease Redux

Today, I have to buy my mother in law a clock because I stole her watch last night. It's true. I am a thief.

She spent so much of her time (and mine) trying her hardest to match it up to the main clock in the kitchen, all the while spinning that old knob on the side her beautifully petite watch with the very small and hard to read numbers and making it worse all the time. She often didn't know which way to hold it or how to put it on and it was starting to cause all of us a good deal of frustration.

Last night I started to feel mean and snarky about it instead of empathetic and sensitive to the situation, so it seemed like a good time to do something about that pesky watch. My great hope is within a day or two, she will have forgotten all about it and we will move on to something else to fill our time together. So, it is tucked neatly away in my own jewelry box for now, and I am on the look out for a new clock for her room to help her gauge the time a little better.

We have been travelling so much lately our main focus has been securing good folks to come and help take care of her while we were gone. Since returning from our last vacation, and gearing ourselves in the direction of preparing for the return to work and school in the fall, we are sitting back and taking notice of where Saribenne is, and what her needs are. In the last year we have seen a steady progression of her disease that has left us all experiencing a range of emotions that can be difficult to grasp at times.

Each day is definitely a new adventure. I sometimes sit with her and imagine what the Saribenne without the disease would say to me as I struggle to respond to what the Saribenne with the disease is saying. More and more, I turn to my roots in early childhood education to help me interact with her and reach her on an intellectual level of any sort.

This past weekend, sitting in the garden reading books with Saribenne and my three and a half year old, I noticed the rapt attention Saribenne held listening to the children's stories of Cinderella and of caterpillars turning into butterflies. She sat in the sun, soaking up every minute of it, all the while gently petting the dogs who stay by her side most of the day. She really was so happy and content in that moment.

After storytime, we took a walk down our street to the cul de sac and back. We stopped every few seconds to notice something new, and she listened with great intention as I told her the names of the flowers we were passing by. I noticed that she took the time to carefully, with a whisper, repeat the names, trying with all her might to hold them in her mind and just remember.

Black Eyed Susan. . . Black Eyed susan . . . Black Eyed Susan . . .

At one point, she mentioned she had never seen a bee before, or seen one that she could remember anyway. I was a little afraid that she may reach out and try to touch one, but she never did. She instead listened carefully as I explained what bees do to the best of my ability and then we moved on.

These days it seems easier to remember how precious each moment is, how urgent each existing memory is. It is daunting to think about the future, and a major task to think about all the things we should be writing down, documenting, remembering for her, remembering for us, for the days that we might not remember for ourselves. If one is interested in the idea of living in the present moment, of being here now, loving a person with Alzheimer's disease certainly helps that process along.

I am grateful for the opportunity to get to know Saribenne in this new way each day, to learn to recognize what reaches her now, what awakens old memories, what delights her senses throughout the day, what causes her joy and what brings her heartache. Saribenne is now and has always been her own thinker. She has a magnificant ability to recognize beauty all around her, to see it in the places that others might not.

She helps me to remember that there is significance and beauty in all things, it can be seen in every drop of motor oil on a side walk, a line drawn on a torn page, a scrap of metal on the side of the road, in every weed and flower in the garden, and in old fire hydrants just sitting at the end of the road in need of a new paint job.

And now, she stands behind me asking what staples are and why she has them in her room. I now possess a barely used package of staples, sure to come in handy someday.

I am off to teach kids in fellowship and then to by that clock. Wish me luck in finding a large LED digital display clock with very few buttons and no gadgets to confuse her, but mostly wish for me that I find the beauty in each day as well she does as I rush around trying my hardest to just keep up with myself.

Blessed be and much love!