Coffee Time Past

Today "Coffee Time" almost disappeared. Gregory always has coffee at 5:00. He pours this morning's leftover coffee into a mug, adds milk, heats it in the microwave for one minute. Then he selects three or four cookies and sits at his desk studying the sunset taking place on the roof top garden outside the condo window. He has been doing this for two or three years now.

Yesterday he asked for some help so I got his coffee ready for him. Today, he arrived at my desk and asked for help again. This time I told him to go ahead and I would help if he needed me. He returned a few minutes later and told me he was afraid, so I joined him in the kitchen. I still did not want to help so I told him I would observe.

He had placed an empty mug on the kitchen counter, got the coffee pot, and with the pot sitting on the counter, kept tipping it until he could see the coffee in the spout (he didn't notice that you could see the coffee level through the glass pot itself,) but he did not know how to go further. He seemed to have lost track of the mug sitting there.

He went through the same motions of tipping the pot and pointing to the spout. It seemed to make sense to him but he did not know how to proceed. He would notice out loud that there was coffee showing in the spout if he tipped the pot far enough. He actually tried pouring a little bit of coffee on the counter to see if that was what he was supposed to do but stopped saying, "That's not right, is it?" I said nothing.

He did this over and over and suddenly began moving the tipped coffee pot towards the mug but then studied and hesitated and put the coffee pot back down on the counter. Finally he seemed to notice the mug sitting there, made the connection, and poured the coffee into the mug. "That easy, huh!" he mumbled.

Next he knew that he needed to add milk. He got the gallon milk container out of the refrigerator, took off the lid, and went through the "tipping" routine again. Another five minutes worth of tipping, studying whether to pour it on the counter or not.

Then he began returning to the refrigerator, milk bottle in hand, and tried to pour milk into the refrigerator on the shelf where it is stored. Over and over. He returned to the counter and added trying to pour the milk onto the bottle cap. He didn't actually pour it on the counter or bottle cap but repeated the motions over and over asking, "Is this right? Is this how you do it? What is wrong here?" Approximately five minutes of attempted milk pouring.

He kept seeking my approval and I kept saying something like, "I am observing to see what you will do." Eventually I suggested, "You want to pour the milk into the mug." He responded as though he understood what I said but repeated the counter and bottle cap routine several more times. He kept looking to me for help and I kept saying, "I am here with you."

He began rehearsing pouring the milk into the mug. He did this three or four times and finally poured the milk into the mug. He was pleased. "Strange isn't it?" was his observation.

 "Yes," I answered.

On the way to collect his cookies from the cabinet he told me, "I love you."

"That was never in question," I responded as I often do, "I love you too."

He hugged my head and said again, "I love you."

"Me too," I replied. After assembling his cookies, he correctly put the mug in the microwave for one minute, and was back on target.

It is very painful for me, but every now and then I have to just wait it out and only get involved if he gets too overwhelmed. This time he was in a problem solving mode the entire time. By watching and letting him try to figure it out, perhaps, if he doesn't get too upset, my not helping allows him to keep his self confidence. It allows me to carefully observe so I can try to figure out what is happening.  

While I am writing this, he is enjoying his coffee and cookies. Wonder if the skill will be back tomorrow. If it isn't, I will intervene right away and verbalize what I am doing. Maybe that will help. I keep trying.