A Small Glimmer

Role Playing

To follow up on a previous post or two dealing with Gregory's new found interest in role playing, here is a list of current routines. I believe that he uses them as a form of interaction, definitely not communication as there is no sense in what he says.

Italian
Russian
Jewish
Developmentally Disabled
French
Silly
Baby Talk

To really picture what I am talking about, you need to experience him as he plays. Once he gets going, sometimes there is no stopping him until I pop a cookie into his mouth.

I get great joy out of the interactions and both Gregory and I usually dissolve into the giggles and at times get so tickled that we cannot stop laughing.

Laughing into Tears

Crying is so much like laughter and laughter is so much like crying. Sitting with Gregory at the hospital I found that we would laugh together with tears right behind. Emotions Emotions go away. Come again another day.

In some way I am feeling numb again, which I have experienced at various stages in the progression of Gregory's illness. This time it is as if he has died and in some ways he has. There are a lot of "never agains" and "forevers."

He will never be able to come home again. He will never visit the condo again. We will never be able to decorate for Christmas at home. Many traditions are gone and over. The kitties miss his being here and he will never be able to take a nap in the bedroom with them ending up in his lap asleep and purring. Dinner parties? Overnight guests? Holidays? Birthdays? Grocery shopping? Sitting in the TV room? and on and on.

Slowly I will get used to living alone. Last night I panicked three times when waking up, realizing that he was not in bed with me, afraid he had "wandered," and then realizing that I didn't need to worry about where he is.

As you know, I do not believe in prayer, but it seems anyway appropriate to say that I just hope that he is able to settle into the Lieberman Center and that he is not aware of what his surroundings really look like.

Cats and Knock Knock Jokes and Farts

This morning while sitting at my computer, Gregory stood there quietly waiting after he was finished shaving. I realized that I had forgotten to put his underwear out on the bedroom bench. 

I got up to get them, kiddingly saying , "Oops I failed you by not living up to my responsibilities." 

Going into the closet and continuing my monologue, "I will leave the closet door open so the cat can  try to sneak in again." (Which she does every single time the door is open even though she knows the closet is off limits. With a gentle "No" she always turns around and leaves.

Then I mused, "I guess the cat is a lot like you, Gregory, she always forgets the same thing, over and over."

We both laughed.

• • •

We watched the movie South Pacific last night. An old "Knock/ Knock" joke came to mind and I tried to tell it to Gregory. 

The problem was he did not remember how to do a "Knock/Knock" joke, so I tried to teach him. I say, "Knock/Knock." You say, "Who's there?" Then I say the punch line.

I said, "Knock/Knock." He replied, "Yes?" We laughed.

I repeated, "You are supposed to say, "Who's there?

Knock/Knock."

"What is it?" he asked. 

We laughed some more. 

This went on for several iterations. The laughter turned into giggles then we couldn't stop as we both were tickled with the progress of our conversation.

Finally I just gave it to him:

"Knock/Knock."

"Who is there?"

"Sam and Janet."

"Sam and Janet who?"

I sang: "Sam and Janet evening. You will see a stranger. You will see a stranger across the crowded room." etc.

"Not a very good joke," Gregory replied.

• • •

This mooring while Gregory was shaving I was sitting on the pot. (Spoiler: FARTs ahead.) I gave a deep fart and Gregory mimicked the sound with his mouth. We both were quite tickled. I gave a long, sweet, high fart and Gregory imitated it again. We laughed and laughed. He was very proud of himself for having made a joke. Laughing is fun. Almost as fun as farting.

Life on the Outside Looking In

Ken, companion, took Gregory swimming. When they returned, Ken helped Gregory get changed from swimming. "First you need to hang up your swim suit." This brought a confused look to Gregory's face. "Your suit is wet, you need to hang it up to dry." No response. "Hang your swim suit up in your bathroom."

Finally a response from Gregory, "My bathroom."

"Yes, your bathroom." No response or acknowledgement from Gregory. "Your bathroom where Michael is right now." No response. "Here, let me show you."

"My bathroom?"

"Yes, your bathroom, here where Michael is standing and laughing."

Gregory was not offended by my laughing as I commented, "You must be exhausted from your swimming" to which Gregory agreed. Ken took the swim suit from Gregory and hung it over the shower door saying, "See, here. Hang your suit in your bathroom."

Ken, as usual, was very calm and not negatively or emotionally involved with the activity.

The reason I was laughing is multi-fold. First I was able to see from a non-emotionally involved point of view how silly the interaction seemed and how amazing the manifestation of Alzheimer's can be.

Next, I was interested that I could be peripherally involved but not have the frustration that usually comes with these types of interactions. It felt good to be OK with the situation.

Finally, I was pleased (does this make me bad) that someone else could see so explicitly and directly what I go through SO MANY times a day.

Every Now and Then

Every now and then Gregory says something that tickles both of us. I was trying to direct him to reach up on the wall and take down a painting.

"The one with the white edge."


No good.

"The one I am pointing at."


No good.

In exasperation but in a good mood I asked, "What do you understand?"


"I understand some things and not others!" was his matter of fact reply. We were tickled and laughed tears.

A Day in the Life of a Caregiveer

This morning Gregory told me that he had some blood today while he was getting dressed.

I asked, "Where?"

He replied, "On the bathroom counter."

Not erring on the side of too much information, lets just say I figured out what he needed, took care of it, and got a good laugh out of it as well.

Making Up Words

I was helping Gregory with some grooming using a barber's scissors to trim the hair around his neckline. "Wait!" he blurted. "I have to get stattle."

I lost it and began a fit of giggling, he joined in. "I know, I know," he said, "that's just my version."

When I regained my control, I was able to say, "Yes, a combination of steady and stable equals stattle."

How am I able to figure these things out?

Only Two

Gregory and I had a long conversation today.

It was good for me, I am not sure how much of it he was able to follow. But my belief is still that I have two choices when things go wrong: 1) Pretend that nothing is wrong or 2) Discuss it with him.

He always chooses the later when offered the choice so I continue to discuss it with him when things go wrong. Most often the steps are too many and he cannot follow the discussion but we try anyway. If it really doesn't matter, I do pretend.

After our conversation today, Gregory said that he felt bad that his problem might mean that I can no longer be away from him to do the things I like to do.

I replied, "You know there are only two times when I feel bad about our 'situation.'

One is when I loose control and get angry or short or impatient or disrespectful and the other is when you feel bad.

We laughed.

A Very Narrow Approach

Today I am entertaining an acquaintance who is thinking of moving into downtown Evanston. She wanted my take on living here so I invited her over for some home made banana walnut bread and a cup of coffee.

She knows Gregory. I suggested that  he be here for the beginning of the visit but that he take himself out to lunch after a while. The timing of her visit cuts into his lunchtime. Also, he would probably not enjoy sitting around for the few hours while my guest and I chat.

I suggested he could have lunch at Pot Belly or Lulu's, both of which are within a block of the condo and ones with which he might be comfortable going to on his own. He replied, "Don't worry, I'll find food." I am worried. 

Then he said, "You know I think I will eat at that place .... No, never mind because I can't think of the name .... You know its on the street ... at the end of the block .... way down there."

I asked, "What kind of food do they serve?"

"The usual," he replied.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to comment, "Well that narrows it down quite a bit." Gregory got the joke and we both laughed.

Then he continued. "You know .... We ate there .... Once .... Don't worry I'll find food."

One-Up-Man-Ship

Gregory and I were at Old Orchard today to run a few errands. I wanted a new black brief case to match my "artist in black wardrobe" for the team planning meetings of Michael's Museum at The Chicago Children's Museum on Navy Pier. I also needed a new charger for my iPhone and as any Appleophile knows, visiting the Apple Store is always a treat even if you do not need to buy anything. I also thought that it would be nice to have a few new shirts for the fall/winter season.

Still a fan of Ralph Lauren, we stopped in Macy's to see their selection of Polo shirts. I am in love with long sleeve Chambray, oxford cloth solids or flannel plaids. I guess I am still a "Polo Mystique" kind of guy. When I was teaching my "costume" consisted of one of a number of pair of kaki's hanging in a row in my closet and a Ralph Lauren flannel or Chambray or oxford cloth shirt.

My costume was so predictable that one year, to help celebrate my birthday, my students planned a party for me. Every one of them, with paper mustache attached under their nose, wore kaki slacks and a plaid flannel shirt. When my colleagues gave me a retirement party, all the teachers wore kakis and a Chambray shirt.

So there Gregory and I were in the dressing room and I was trying on shirts. Sadly to say, while I do worship that temple which is the body I live in, I have progressed from an XL to an XXL size shirt. I tried on a shirt and looking at myself in the mirror commented outloud, "God, I hate how big my belly is!"

This was where Gregory was able to one-up-manship me. He replied, "Well you have your problem (my stomach) and I have mine (Alzheimer.") We both got so tickled that we couldn't stop laughing. Marilyn, our sales lady (of the last thirty years or so) came through the open dressing room door to see what fun she was missing.