The Case of the Missing Strawberry Shortcake

I am sure that some of this has to do with my own disappointment. I continue to tell myself, "Don't take it personally." But I take it personally. I can only imagine how he must have felt but for me I tried to do something nice for him and it only caused more problems. I keep trying.

The other day I planned to make us a nighttime treat. After dinner I made a batch of baking powder biscuits. Then I plucked and sliced the strawberries, sugared and lightly watered them to bring out their juices, and gave them a partial mash. Finally, everything was set aside for later.

After dinner we watched some TV then went into the kitchen together to assemble our dessert. G sat on the stool and watched as I sliced the biscuits and placed them on a plate, topped them with strawberries, and loaded the creation with lots of whipped cream. Kiddingly, Gregory used to say, "The only reason for shortcake is to be able to have lots of whipped cream."

I picked up my plate, pushed the other plate towards him saying, "Bring yours," and headed back to the TV room. A few minutes later (actually a few to many minutes later) Gregory arrived with the baggie of extra biscuits that had been set aside for breakfast.

"I am confused, aren't these too many?"

"Those are for tomorrow. Your strawberry shortcake is on the counter in the kitchen," I said amazed at where a short circuit of his brain had taken him. He had watched me assemble, he saw me pick up my plate, he had heard me say "Bring yours" as I pushed it towards him, but none-the-less he showed up carrying a baggie of leftover biscuits announcing he was confused.

At times like this my brain goes numb with disbelief as I struggle to interpret what had happened, remain calm, figure out the next step, still trying not to just do it for him. Maybe I should be grateful that he knew he was confused. Sometimes he doesn't realize he is confused and behaves as if he knows what he is doing.

So he went back to the kitchen to look for his strawberry shortcake and was gone again for quite a while. Waiting is difficult for me but I still believe that it is important to allow him time to solve his own problem. Sometimes he is able to do so.

Finally I got up and went to see how he was doing. I found him looking around the kitchen not knowing what to do. By then he had probably forgotten where his strawberry shortcake was, the kitchen in his mind must be a HUGE COMPLICATED place, and maybe he had even forgotten why he was standing there.

I pointed out his plate and he said something like, "Oh that was easy." 

For him, maybe. For me, devastating.

I know, I know. You are probably thinking why didn't I wait until I was sure he picked up his plate? Why didn't I just bring his into the TV room as well? Why didn't I just go back and get his for him? Why didn't I just do all this calmly without taking it personally, letting it diminish my good intentions, causing my mind to go numb, bringing a few tears  of despair closer to the surface? That's easy for you to say.

At least this time I stayed calm and didn't get angry or say something like, "How could you not know what to do?" or worse. At times like this I have to balance back and forth between perceiving and treating him like he is normal and behaving and treating him according to his "current normal." Or figuring out in the field what to do next when what usually worked didn't work this time.

Not an easy job. I do get better at it. But my guess is that Gregory's decline will constantly my outpace improvement. The question is will I survive to outpace his Alzheimer's? Bon appetite!