Today He Cried For Joy

This morning's routine was the same for Gregory. He woke up thirsty but didn't know what to do about it. He needed reminding to sit on the toilet for a while. Then he needed reminding to shave, to have the shaver taken out of the medicine cabinet for him, to be turned on, and to be put into his hand as it was guided towards his face. He needed help with putting on his deodorant and his face cream. He needed guidance into his undershirt oriented correctly for him and his underpants as well. He slipped his arms into the correctly held for him sweat shirt and his sweat pants as well.

All this was done with love and patience and kindness without making him ask first or struggle trying first. This has always been the conundrum for me, in which if I do it all, he looses the ability more quickly but if I hold back we run the risk of frustration and fear. He has gotten to the point recently that I have just decided to do it all for him because he cannot do it for himself anymore.

After we were finished, he held me and cried into my shoulder muttering about how proud he was of himself that he was able to do it all with out help. So my doing it all for him caused the memories of his doing it all for himself to be strong and the ruler of his emotions. A strange lesson for me to learn but a good one.

The Amazing Disappearing Undershirt

I have posted previously about Gregory's continuing difficulties with identifying underwear (sending or receiving language) let alone getting them on in the correct orientation.

This morning a new development:

"What is the purpose of this?" asked Gregory holding up the undershirt that was waiting for him on the bench in the bedroom as he was getting dressed.

"An undershirt. It goes under your shirt." I replied.

"Isn't that amazing!" he mumbled as he struggled to orient it correctly.

He got his arms through the sleeves but got hung up at that point.

Hurtful Words

When Gregory is having a lot of trouble with getting dressed in the morning, in my frustration I sometimes take over, fully dressing him. Most of the time I am able to do it lovingly but now and then I am mean. I tell him, "I learned how to do this when I worked in the hospital with sick and dying people."

I say it in an even voice but still, the words are hurtful (at least I think they are to him and I know for sure they are to me.) "Isn't it good that I know how to do this? Sick and dying people need lots of help. I am happy to help."

I took a close look at why I need at times to say this. Maybe I am setting myself up for Gregory's eventual death and to cope with his dying a little bit every day, every minute. You know the expression "24/7/365?" I have a new one for Alzheimer's 

"DEATH24/7/365/DEATH"

Helpless Helping

I must supervise you every time you go to the bathroom. I always tell you to use the bathroom before we go out and I suggest you use it after an hour or two has gone by at home. I visually make sure that you pull down not only your pants but also your underpants. Lately you lower yourself with great uncertainty onto the toilet seat.

I listen for "plots" or "tinkles." When you seem done, I tell you to sit for a while and sure enough you do more. You don't know when you have more to do so the waiting works. I can't ask, "Did you shit?" "Did you pee only?" to tell me what kind of help to give so I either have you "wipe" anyway or ask you to stand up so I can see what in in the toilet bowl.

I verbally go thought the steps with you of taking toilet paper, wiping, tossing into bowl and repeating until clean. I tell you to use a wet wipe next and sometimes have to help you open the box they are stored in. I flush in-between wipes if you are using a lot of paper.  Telling you to "Flush" doesn't register and confuses the process so I do it for you.

You are always amazed and sometimes upset when "something is happening down there" as if moving your bowels or urinating is an amazing, unusual event in your life. I used to say something like "taking a dump is good" but have stopped bothering and just say "It's OK. Good job."

You do not know how to use a kleenex to blow your nose but instead use fingers aiming the blow towards the floor. You did OK once I showed the box of tissue but then you did not know where to throw the used tissue. You did not know how to open the garbage can once I showed it to you.

You do not automatically know how to use the knife and fork any longer, and you use your fingers to eat a lot, which I don't mind at all. But now being able to pick up a piece of food in your fingers and biting off a piece is the next skill you are loosing.

You know you want a glass of water, and sometimes can even identify the glass sitting in front of you, but then you stare at it not knowing the next step.

It's hard enough to get you ready to go outside during the winter but even with help putting on your coat, you get your arms all tangled up in the sleeves, untuck the scarf once I have tucked it, stand at such an angle that I have difficulty zipping the coat closed, take your ear muffs off once I have put them on for you, cannot coordinate your fingers and thumb in the correct orientation, as well as closed position to put on your gloves.

When we arrive at our destination and I am helping you take off your coat I unzip the zipper, I tuck your gloves and earmuffs into the coat pockets, I tell you to take off your coat. This causes you to immediately take the gloves and earmuffs out of your pockets.

Fastening and unfastening your seatbelt in the car takes place correctly about fifty percent of the time. One time you got yourself so wrapped up and knotted up in the straps that I didn't know how to get you out. Finally figured it out but had to put you through some contortions. Often you do not know how to open the car door.

About half the time now when you read you forget to put on your glasses and wonder why the reading isn't working. Another half of the time you put on your glasses and wonder why the room is blurry. Sometimes you do OK with your glasses but I have to monitor when they are dirty and clean them for you.

We watch TV together a lot and that is a nice pass time. At times, your responses to my comments make we wonder if  you really understand what you are watching and sometimes the responses make me tip my head and wonder if we are watching the same program.

In our day to day conversation (meaning my talking) I'll point out something through the window of the condo or that we are passing while in the car. I can tell by the focus of your eyes that you are not looking at the same thing I am pointing out. Sometimes I try to directed your gaze and you finally register what I was talking about. Other times it just does't work and the experience has passed. I just say, "Never mind." It sound rude but what can I say. Maybe "Oops we missed it."

So even as I help you, I cannot help you and that makes me sad. And the part that probably makes me the saddest is that we cannot talk about what went wrong or about either of our frustrations. And I am sad that sometimes I do not know how to begin to help or what to do to help. And then there are times I am sad that I am sad and that makes you sad.

I still try to show you, or explain the steps as simply as I can, or demonstrate. I touch, I poke, I push, I suggest physically. Most of the time nothing works. Most of the time I feel so helpless especially as your needs continue to increase and mystify. And most of the time I feel sad.

A New Language

As you know, Gregory has difficulties with language retrieval as well as generation not to mention connections between words and their meanings and/or associations. When he is focused on an item, no words or pointing can distract him from that focus. So if you say "Give me the fork," often he can. But if he is looking at or thinking about a glass, you can "fork" until you are blue in the face and you'll only get "glassed!" Got it?

Meanwhile, I realized recently that we have been creating a new language that we use more successfully. When he gets undressed at night, I stand at the closet to collect his clothes to be hung up for the next day. Often he puts the item of clothing being taken off on the bed ... or on the bench ... or on the floor. When I say "Hammy" (a verbally joined together combination of "Hand it to me," he seems to understand and hands me the item of clothing.

He will take off most of his clothing but then get distracted or not realize that he still has on his underpants, undershirt, and/or sox. So I say, "Take off more" followed by "Hamme" and he takes off the next item of clothing and gives it to me. I continue this until he is standing there nude. Then I hand him his night clothes and he usually knows what to do with them.

Often he takes the night clothes into the bathroom because it is warmer in there, puts on the top or bottom, depending, and comes out of the bathroom not realizing or knowing that he still has the bottom or top, depending, to put on. I point and say "You stopped!" and he gets it.

Why does this new language work? I do not know, but I will be more aware of it and see how many new words I can add to make our life a little easier.

Be Amazed. Be Amused. Be Astounded.

Morning.

Undershirt on right side out. Check.
Undershirt on right side up. Check.
Undershirt on right side front. Check.

Amusing because not usual.

Underpants on right side out. Check.
Underpants on right side up. Check.
Underpants on right side front. Check.

Amazing because not usual.

Sweatshirt on right side out. Check.
Sweatshirt on right side up. Check.
Sweatshirt on right side front. Check.

Astounding because not usual.

Sweatpants ... well that was a different story this morning.
Once upon a time ... well not that kind of story.
Sweatpants upside down being held by the legs.

Amusing.

Sweatpants turned around 360º, 2 or 3 or 4 times in a row.
Sweatpants tossed up into the air to see if that matters.
Still not quite right.

Amazing.

Spread upside down legs of sweatpants and study them.
Turn the sweatpants 360º again and study them.
Still not quite right.

Astounding.

Finally turn them over and hold by waist of sweatpants.
Put them on backwards.
Say, "Oh no." Take them off.

Finally,

Put them on right side out. Check.
Put them on right side up. Check.
Put them on right side front. Check.

Five to ten minutes later, able to move on with the morning.

The Scourge of Helpfulness

There is an old story that goes: You can tell the difference between old age and Alzheimer's Disease. In old age you forget where you put your glasses. In Alzheimer's you forget you wear glasses!

This morning Gregory came into the bedroom. Something is wrong. He had been trying to take his morning pills in the kitchen but his glass of water was in the bedroom. Sometimes, when I am in the kitchen with him, I remind, "Your water is in the bedroom." Sometimes this helps, other times it doesn't. Other times I walk him into the bedroom and point at the water. Sometimes this helps, other times it doesn't. Still other times I take him over to the nightstand and hand him his water. Still yet other times I bring the water into the kitchen to avoid all this confusion. Either way, he does not associate having a glass of water with part of the process of taking his pills. At least not all of the time and now-a-days less and less.

Next he was at his table in the living room (which he cannot associate by name as in "Please go put this on your table.") fumbling with his reading glasses. He put them on his glass case, then next to his glass case, then under his glass case. I helped, "Put them IN your glass case." Didn't help so I backed out. This upset him so I explained, "No problem ... I tried to help but it didn't help so I backed off ... No harm done ... No babies are dying ... I love you ... That is all that matters." To which he replied, "OK."

When he sat down to read the newspaper, I realized the problem. He had some vague idea that he needed his reading glasses to read the newspaper but didn't connect the pieces, i.e. get glasses, sit down in front of your newspaper, put glasses on, read the newspaper. Instead, after the previous short circuit, he just sat in front of the newspaper confused. Again, I tried to help. I asked, "Can you read the newspaper?" "What?" "Can you see the newspaper?" "What do you mean?" So I went over and got his glasses and handed them to him. "Yes, I was going to get my glasses," he replied. OK.

Now how to handle all of this may seem obvious to you. And what I should have said, or not said, may be what you are thinking about. And I too, in looking back, realize several different ways I could of handled this. And maybe next time I will be able to handle it differently. At least this time I didn't get angry, or rude, or short, or impatient. But also I wasn't helpful. I also realize that no matter what I do, being helpful most often backfires on me.

And don't judge until you are the one trying to figure out how to go about ANYTHING with a person who is fairly advanced in Alzheimer's.

A final example. This morning he got his undershirt and underpants on correctly but had his sweatshirt on backwards. He realized this and corrected it. Next he got his sweatpants on backwards and corrected it three times only to have them on backward again. I helped, "You keep putting them on the same way. Try turning them around." So he held the pants up in front of himself and turned around. Not the pants but rather his body. Then holding the pants in front of him (oriented incorrectly) he walked forward and then backward and did this two more times. I got up and using his hands, slowly helped him to turn the pants around the correct way, in my mind trying to demonstrate the process. "Now try them on I suggested." He did, they were on the right way, but I don't think he really understood what had happened.

Somehow, I keep going.

Yesterday - Sox in Hand

Gregory was getting dressed yesterday and he got the giggles. He couldn't figure out why his sox didn't fit correctly. He turned them around and it still didn't feel right. He thought this was quite funny. I pointed out that he had his sox on his hands ... not his feet.

Situation corrected.

Sunday September 15th: So Far A Day Much Like Any Other Day

I would say that in normal conversation, Gregory is missing approximately 80-90% of his language word associations. "Close the DOOR." "Turn off the LIGHT." etc no longer work. "Your newspaper is on your TABLE." ... "on your TABLE." He headed to the front door.

Memory is another thing.

He asked if the pile of clothing on the bench (where I put his underwear and sweats every morning) were mine or his. When I explained that they were his clothes, in the same place every morning, he began getting dressed.

He proceeded to forget the underpants. On being prompted to put them on first, he did not know how to get into them ... beginning with backwards ... followed quickly by both legs in one hole. With help, he figured out what to do.

Sweat pants went on backwards. With help, he figured out what to do.

For the first in a long time he got on his undershirt and sweat shirt correctly the first time.

If he had to name any of these foreign objects, he would not be able to.

He is currently reading his NEWSPAPER at his TABLE wearing his UNDERPANTS, UNDERSHIRT, SWEATPANTS, and SWEATSHIRT.

Lord (if one exists) only knows the comprehension level of his newspaper reading. He cannot answer any questions about it and cannot share any of what he read. Now and then he will bring the paper to me to show me a picture.

I am currently writing this BLOG, flumoxed although calm. The cats are chasing each other around the condo. Our day has begun.

Two Second Forgetting

Every evening I pile Gregory's slippers,

Sweats, and underwear on the bench,

So he can get himself going in the morning,

Hopefully without my help, my assistance.

Every morning he asks anyway, "Are these mine."

Two second forgetting isn't his fault.

For a while I resented having to reply, "Yes!"

After having gone to the extra trouble,

Having laid out his stuff ahead of time.

Now I just say, with understanding, "Yes."

That makes it easier, without resentment.

Two second forgetting isn't his fault.

Sometimes he takes part of the pile

into the bathroom and for some reason

gets distracted and leaves it there.

"Something is wrong." he will say.

"Yes," I will say. "Look in the bathroom. 

Two second forgetting isn't his fault.

After thinking a few seconds or minutes

He returns to see what he left behind.

Sometimes he finds what he is missing

Sometimes he cannot see in front of his eyes.

With understanding I will get up to help.

Two second forgetting isn't his fault.

Sometimes the undershirt is on backwards,

Sometimes the sweat pants are inside out.

Sometimes things are in the wrong order,

And sometimes in the wrong place!

So I smile. I didn't always used to smile.

Good for me. Understanding is easier.

Two second forgetting isn't his fault.

Two second forgetting isn't his fault.

The Coat and the Hanger: A Comedy of Errors

Gregory said he was cold. I suggested he put on a coat.

He went to the closet where a stick was placed through the handles to keep it closed from the cats.

He was able to take out the stick but that new situation caused him to forget how to open the doors.

With a little help he was able to open the door.

I suggested he put on his softer gray jacket to keep him warm.

He took it out of the closet and put it on but the hanger was still in the coat.

He realized what he had done and took the hanger out but didn't know where to put the hanger.

I suggested that he hang it back up.

While hanging up the hanger, he saw his brown jacket.

He took it off the hanger, put it between his knees, took off the gray jacket, put it on the hanger and hung it up.

I just watched.

He put on the brown jacket backwards pushing out the sleeves when they did not let him put his arms through.

The brown jacket was now on inside out.

He tried to zip the jacket but couldn't after many tries because it was inside out.

I mentioned that the jacket was inside out.

He took it off, turned it right side out and put it on and zipped it up, proud of himself.

While still standing there he took it off and asked me if it was right.

I said yes it was and asked why he took it off.

He put it back on and zipped it up. He took it off again and didn't know what to do with it.

I suggested he hang it up but he couldn't get the closet door open.

He handed me the coat, said "Do something with it," and out of exasperation I tossed it into the garbage can.

Start Your Engines Part II

Yesterday morning I work up before Gregory and lie in bed just being quiet. He started stirring and I offered, "Do you want to get up or go back to sleep?"

He offered about ten minutes of confused beginning utterances, hemming, hawing, etc none of which was coherent to me or most likely to him.

Finally I offered, "Get up or sleep?" He pushed back the covers and got up. Success!

Next I went with him into the bathroom, directed him to the switch that turns on the heat and he knew what to do. Success!

I pointed to the toilet, and he knew what to do. No details needed here. Success!

Next I opened the medicine cabinet and took out his shaver box (contains shaver, brush, cord.) He knew how to plug it in without too much study and shaved. Success!

When he was finished, he opened the bathroom door. I pointed to the underwear and sweats on the bench just outside the door. He knew what to do. Success!

He had a little trouble getting the sweat shirt on correctly (even though it takes the same understanding that getting his undershirt on does.) I held back, he tried several times, "Oh shit!" "Oh shit!" "Oh shit!" finally getting it on correctly. Success!

So what we have here is a lot of successes in a failing kind of way!

P.S. Last night as we were drifting off to sleep, Gregory asked, "Do you know where you are going?"

"I am not sure what you mean," I questioned.

Tapping my head with his finger he replied, "In here, in here."

Picture This: A play in three acts with epilogue but no prologue

EPILOGUE:
The bedroom. Gregory sitting on the bench fully dressed except his shoes. Me sitting at my computer.

SCENE:
From my right to left - A) one foot with sock and shoe on, B) one shoe waiting, C) one foot with sock on. I would have loved to insert a photograph here but didn't want to embarrass Gregory by taking one.

ACT ONE;
I could tell that he was studying what to do next but I didn't want to jump in to help. While it pains me to see him "suffer through" figuring out what to do, I realize that it is best not to jump in too soon because that only confuses him more and frustrates me.

Back and forth he looks between point A, point B, and point C.

From my point of view I am freaked out. How could he not know what to do in such a simple, straight forward situation? Does he not know how to put on shoe number 2? Does he not see shoe number 2? Does he not see foot number 2? Does he not realize foot number 2 is ready for shoe number 2? Is he just staring at the items (feet and shoes and sox) and having nothing register? Is he waiting for something but not sure what? He seems to know something is "wrong" but doesn't know what or how to process the situation.

Back and forth he looks between point A, point B, and point C.

CURTAIN

ACT 2
Finally I get involved. (I cannot remember or share with you the prompts I used to try to help him. If I could it would seem like a Comedy of Errors getting more and more complicated until we are finally discussing the nature of a shoe and its purpose, the various types of shoes, the fine art of polishing a shoe, how to scrape dog shit off of the bottom of a shoe, etc. Sometimes these conversations seem like this and/or my teacher self takes over and I find myself inadvertently trying to teach him how to do the task at hand knowing full well that we are both past the point of no return.)

CURTAIN

ACT 3
Just when I am about to get up to put his shoe on his foot for him (I remained calm this time so if he isn't ... at least I am learning) when he slips his foot into the shoe, comments, "That was easy." and stands up and leaves the room. CURTAIN

PROLOGUE: None! What can I say? An empty stage.

CURTAIN

Some Mornings

Some mornings he wakes up and nothing seems to work.

This morning he ran into problems with shaving. Shaver in hand, he called me into the bathroom trying to tell me something, but never was able to get to it. He pointed at the shaver, and then the mirror and said, "There is a little something."

That is as far as we got after his attempting to communicate several times. I waited patiently, guessed at a few things, and finally told him just to shave, which he did.

A little while later he called me again with the "light bulb" having gone on again, he struggled to tell me what he had realized, and failed again ... another dark communication. We have been up for 30 minutes.

He did OK beginning his shower, I was in the bedroom when I heard him shouting "Help! Help!" I came running to find that he was finished showering and had begun to turn the water off but only did so half way and was standing in the cold stream of water still coming out of the shower head.

I turned the water hot again so he could warm up and then we turned it off together. Actually he did so by himself without any help, just my standing there which made it a little more frustrating and confusing.

Next he struggled to put on his sweatshirt, arm through the head hole and out the sleeve. He kept mumbling, "No that's not right" and continued trying to figure out how to put it on. He sat down on the bed for a while seemingly trying to regroup. I held back and he finally did figure out how to put the shirt on.

We have been up for an hour.

While he was reading the newspaper, I set out the cutting board with his bread and honey and announced, "Your bead and honey are ready." He thanked me and came over to begin preparing his first of the morning food. I returned to the bedroom.

Some five or ten minutes later I went out to see how he was doing. He was standing by the toaster, looking back at the cutting board, and back and forth again and again.

He was unable to connect the toast needing to go into the toaster and the button needing to be pressed. We worked through the process together.

When the toaster was finished and his toast popped up, he asked, "Does that turn it off?"

I am grateful that he sought my help, that he was able to begin shaving and then to finish, that he was able to take a dump without my help, that he was able to shower for the most part, that he was finally able to figure out how to get dressed, that he kissed my head as he left the bedroom and said, "I love you," that he was able to read the newspaper, that he was able to eat his toast after putting on the honey, and that he was able to go back to his newspaper.

I am grateful that I was able to keep my patience, not jump in to help too quickly, that I didn't get emotionally involved, that I was able to move from one difficulty to the next without anger, and that he kissed me on the head and said, "I love you."

I am frightened that we are getting closer to my having to more closely supervise his shaving and showering, physically helping him get dressed, and not only making his breakfast but also toasting his first up before breakfast snack because when confused verbal instructions do not work.

We have been up for two hours.

Conundrum Continued

Yesterday morning, Gregory and I had a discussion (if you know can call it that) about the closet (if you know what that means,) selecting clothes (if you know the process,) getting dressed (if you are able,) and keeping the cats out of the closet (if you remember to do so,) etc.

The conversation lasted about 15 or 20 minutes (if one can measure time.) The whole time I knew I was using too many words and was not sure how much or what he understood. A brief summary of the event is:

Gregory: "I want to go back."
Michael: "You can't go back."

Gregory's morning sweats and slippers are laid out on the bench for him to use after cleaning up. I put them out the night before so they are waiting for him in the morning when he is ready. For a while he used to get them out of the drawer in the closet but I started doing it for him when most often he stood there naked, chilled, looking to me without words, saying "What do I do next?"

He struggled less this morning then he usually does with getting the sweatshirt on; correct arm in correct hole, shirt correctly oriented. Other times he stands there anyway wondering what to do next.

After his shirt was on, while I was sitting at my computer, he came over and went through the hemming and hawing and hesitating that begins our conversations. I stopped working, checked the expression on my face to make sure it looked pleasant, interested, and patient, and waited.

"I want to go back." That was the essence of what he wanted to say.

"I am not sure what you mean?" I asked. Eventually, because he was not able to tell me what he meant and because I could tell he was getting frustrated, I guessed, "Go back to picking your own clothes out of the closet?" The answer was "Yes."

I only wish you could have been here to see the confusion in him trying to express himself. Once I knew what he wanted, I also knew that we could not really discuss the issue because the associations and understandings do not exist. But I tried. I talked slowly and simply.

In as few words as possible, I talked about the problem with the cats chewing his shoe laces. I talked about his struggling with picking out clothes and then not knowing how to put them on. I talked about my not being able to go through this with him every morning. I talked about the "feel bad now or feel bad later" idea. I talked about the problem with Alzheimer's and how that has changed our life. I talked about not being able to go back. I talked to him about doing the best we can.

Eventually he, with great organizational difficulty, said, "You need ... to do ... what ... you must ... that is best for ... me." He cried and said, "I'm sorry."

I told him not to be sorry. At least not for me, that I am OK and I will do what I have to for him. "I am here for you. I will make good decisions for you."

But maybe we can go back a little bit, if we do it together. Instead of my picking out his clothes, I will go into the closet with him, my keeping the cats at bay, and my helping him decide what he wants to wear.

I'll make sure he has the pants, and the shirt, and the belt, and the sox, and the shoes. We will take everything out of the closet into the bedroom, put them on the bench and then I'll say, "Get dressed." The closet will be velcroed shut so he does not go back in looking for something already on the bench.

While I am sitting here at my computer, I'll make sure he keeps on his underwear while putting on his outerwear. I'll sit here and probably write again about my frustrations, fears, and anger. While he is getting dressed just in case he needs help, I'll surreptitiously monitor his behavior while I am typing.

The challenge of telling him (doesn't work,) showing him (doesn't work,) and doing it for him (which doesn't always work) will continue. Why do I have to be human when I want to be super-human and be the most patient person in the world?

Conundrum

conundrum |kəˈnəndrəm|noun ( pl. conundrums )a confusing and difficult problem or question: one of the most difficult conundrums for the experts.• a question asked for amusement, typically one with a pun in its answer; a riddle.ORIGIN late 16th cent.: of unknown origin, but first recorded in a work by Thomas Nashe, as a term of abuse for a crank or pedant, later coming to denote a whim or fancy, also a pun. Current senses date from the late 17th cent.While I chose this title to refer to the conundrum I found myself in today, it also fits into what I would call "The Riddle of Alzheimer's."After struggling with helping Gregory to select his clothes every morning for what has been at several months, I came to the conclusion that I should take over the responsibility. Because Gregory has such difficulties with word and item associations, my verbal explanations (although simple) and prompts were not helping. Even taking him into the closet and pointing at an item didn't help.For example this morning he had on undershirt and underpants and was holding his belt, knowing something was wrong. I prompted, "You need pants." He went into the closet, opened his drawer and began taking out a second pair of underpants. "How many pair of underpants do you need?" (Poorly asked question, slap my hand.) So he put back the second pair and began taking off the first pair.By the time I just took a pair of pants off the hanger and handed them to him, he was totally uncertain what he had to do next. "Put these on." That worked. Next, while he knew he needed the belt next, he fumbled with figuring out how to get it on. I had to thread it through the loops for him. I stopped "interfering" to see if he could pick up from here but with sox in hand, he pointed to his feet and said, "Something needs to go here." "Yes, sox." So he got up, went into the closet and got a second pair of sox. Before he could try putting on both pair, I took one and put it back in the drawer. He was able to select his shoes and put them on, today, and successfully after the sox were on. "Would it just be easier if I selected your clothes for you in the morning?" I asked gently. "You have been struggling with this for a long time and when I try to help, it doesn't seem to work."He thought for a short while and replied, "Yes. I think it would make it easier for me." He said this in a docile, earnest way. No anger, no frustration, no resentment, no loss. Obviously it was not the answer I wanted (although I knew it was the right answer) because I still want him to try to work through things. But his answer was much better then one of confusion, anger, frustration.It was the right answer because by now it was more than obvious that we were in a "loose/loose" situation. My help wasn't helping. If my "taking over" made him feel bad, it fit into the "Feel bad now or feel bad later" category. By my taking over, I will not get frustrated or short with him. I will easily be able to avoid snide or negative or resentful remarks (which I try keep to myself anyway but with which I do not always succeed.)The conundrum is that if I decide to "take over" at least there will be a predictability and a follow through for me but with him not having to work through getting dressed, he will loose the skill completely. Feel bad now or feel bad later?I will begin making the bed right when we get up so I can lay his clothes out in the right order without a rumpled bed to confuse him. I have velcroed the closet doors closed so he will not be tempted to dress himself, or get another pair of pants even thought I have put a pair on the bed for him. (Keeping everyone out of the closet but myself will also help with the recent problem of our new kitties chewing up our shoelaces.)As in the past, down the road I will ask Gregory if he would like to try taking the job of selecting his clothes back again. Sometimes he does and is successful. Other times he does and is NOT successful. Sometimes he just relinquishes the job calmly saying, "No thank you."The riddle is that maybe this new procedure will work, maybe not. Maybe it will work today but not tomorrow or maybe tomorrow but not the next. Just laying out his clothes every morning does not insure that he will be able to dress himself, remember to put everything on, and in the correct order. But as in the past, I will be ready to move on to the next conundrum, the next riddle, the next solution, or not.riddle 1 |ˈridl|nouna question or statement intentionally phrased so as to require ingenuity in ascertaining its answer or meaning, typically presented as a game.• a person, event, or fact that is difficult to understand or explain: the riddle of her death.
ORIGIN Old English rǣdels, rǣdelse ‘opinion, conjecture, riddle’; related toDutch raadsel,German Rätsel, also to read.

 

The Closet

Previously we talked about how to use a hanger and how that skill has disappeared. Just to bring you up to speed, there have been no changes, the skill is still gone.

So it makes sense that button-up shirts vs pull-overs would eventually become the same. If you only unbutton the top two or three buttons on a button-up shirt, you can take it off like a pull-over. Easy, no?

Then why after you unbutton a few of the buttons and slip your button-up off over your head would you want to button it up using all the buttons, especially since that prevents you from easily getting it onto a hanger. But we have already discussed the hanger issues.

And have you ever thought about how to navigate the three holes on a pull-over? You have a left arm hole, a right arm hole, and a center head hole. Get those confused and you could be for hours getting dressed.

The mind, or lack of it, is an amazing thing.

Progress or Progress? Mine or Alzheimer's?

Today I was able to automatically say, "If you don't know what to do with the hanger, leave it on the bench. I'll take care of it." I automatically did so in an even, loving manner.

Lately Gregory has been getting "middle age spread." Interesting that he took until 64 to begin. So a lot of his clothes, especially pants, no longer fit. Actually a while back I had though about getting rid of most of his clothes so his choices would be fewer. He is taking care of that himself now.

He will have two pair of kaki's, two pair blue jeans, and two pair of black jeans. One to wear, one in the laundry. One black belt to go with his black shoes, one brown belt to go with his brown belt, one pair of sandals, one pair of gym shoes. Black sox and white sox.  We talked about that today and he seems OK with the changes. He is SO easy going. Amazing how we are learning, through this Alzheimer's Journey, how much is enough.

Now extinct from his associative vocabulary: underpants, undershirt. He recognizes "Blacks" to refer to his morning before getting dressed clothes and "Sleeps" to refer to his shorts and "T" shirt for sleeping. He gets very confused between his WHITE night sleeps shirt and his WHITE daytime undershirt. I am working on that one. Maybe different colors?

Can You See A Pattern

Sometimes my postings are my way of getting the heaviness off my chest. Hopefully it doesn't end up on yours. I'll remind you that most of the time our days are good, full, uneventful. Getting there is often the battle. 

My guess is that if one reread my postings often or chose to analyze them, one would see the coming and going of abilities with their eventual disappearance. One would see my frustration wax and wane as I learned to cope with and to deal with these ability changes. So here is today's fun!

This morning I tried to help Gregory figure out how to put moisturizer on his face (unsuccessfully,) spent watching him struggle for 5+ minutes to put on his zippered sweatshirt before I helped (successfully,) and advised him in how to turn OFF the toaster once the toast had popped (neither successfully or unsuccessfully since a toaster doesn't need turning off once the toast has popped.)

Re Moisturizer: He can put body lotion on his hands, rub them together, and apply it to his arms, legs, etc but cannot relate that process to doing the same for applying moisturizer to his face after shaving. Recently the shaving has been irritating his face so I thought I'd try the Oil of Olay (which I use so it is a familiar object around the bathroom.) 

Gregory's approach is to put some in his hands and then rub his hands together so hard and so long that there is nothing left to put on his face. When I try to coach him through the process, he cannot spread it on both hands and apply to his face without tensing, shaking, and using only one hand at a time and therefore missing most of the necessary area.

On hold, haven't figured out this one yet!

Re Zippered Sweatshirt: It is like putting on a jacket or a shirt which he can do successfully. But for some reason when putting on the sweatshirt he has problems. He holds it up in the correct orientation then puts his hand in the wrong sleeve. He struggles for a while (since the sweatshirt is now incorrectly oriented,) takes it off and begins the process again after studying the garment closely. 

Today I watched for +/- five minutes to see if he would get it. In the past I have tried to verbally coach him (which doesn't work,) I have tried to do it for him (which is a little embarrassing for him,) and have also tried to let him figure it out for himself (which he does once in a while.)

Today I figured out a new approach to coaching him through the process. When he was holding the shirt in the correct orientation, studying the lay of the land, I gently got up saying, "Don't move!" Often he physically reacts in a way that sets the stage differently so if I was going to be able to help, he is no longer in the same position and any association to the event under scrutiny is lost.  This time he stood still. I pointed to the other sleeve hole and said, "Put your arm in here." He did. Success. "That's all it takes?" he remarked, amazed.

On hold, will see if this one works next time!

No need to discuss the toaster. Makes no sense to me but apparently makes no sense to him in a different way so when he asks, I just announce, "It goes off automatically. You don't have to do anything more." That is all it takes! 

Not on hold, easily solved.

This Morning

SO FAR THIS MORNING

Up at 5:00 getting ready for the day.

Back to bed with prompt.

Up for the day at 9:00.

Begins dressing, underwear on backward.

Confused removed night T-shirt with yet to be put on undershirt.

Tried putting undershirt on over sweat outfit top.

Tried putting sweat outfit top on backwards.

In kitchen, ready to take pills, something missing. Left water in bedroom.

Toast and honey laid out at his place.

Can't tell what number on which to put toaster.

Starts toaster, toast still on table.

Looking for honey in cabinet, already on table.

Comes in to see if it would be a good time to shave. Already shaved earlier.