No Two Days are the Same

No Two Days are the Same

Today was supposed to be a fun tailgate party at Featherstone to celebrate an Oklahoma vs Texas football game, I think. They served punch, baked beans, and hot dogs.

There were balloons hanging from ribbons and loose balloons on the floor. I went to get Carolyn a glass of punch, and as I returned I gave a balloon a kick. As luck would have it, it hit a nice little old lady on the head, and she spilled her drink on her lap. I felt terrible, and helped pick up bits of ice off the floor, apologizing all the while.

As we were nearing the end of the food, somebody came by with a frozen Margarita, which tasted really good. Carolyn wanted to try it, so I let her take a couple of sips. I was afraid to give her too much, because I didn’t want to cause any reactions with her medications.

They served cupcakes with RED frosting for desert. They were also doing face painting for some, but I figured with the frosting all over my face I didn’t need any of that. Carolyn had been using her fingers to pick off the frosting and eat it, so when she had enough, we went back to her room and washed her hands before she left red stains on everything she touched.

When we came back to the front, we saw they were playing games out side, so we sat down out there to watch the beanbag toss and the guy tying balloons together. Soon Carolyn asked to leave, and after we got back inside, she said the noise was hurting her ears. I’m not sure whether it was the shouting or the balloons squeaking, but we found a quiet spot in the central courtyard and sat at the table there.

She had a profoundly sad look on her face, so I asked her what the problem was. In very broken sentences and words, I understood her to say she knew she was forgetting everything and was afraid she would be all alone. I guess it was a little memory breakthrough, because for many months she has been unaware of her condition, and thus fairly easy to keep happy.

She broke down and cried, lips trembling and tears flowing, and I joined her as I hugged her close and told her I would never leave her ever. I reassured her that I love her, and I will be here for her, and she will never be alone. 

Eventually she calmed down, and we got up and went back to her room, where a bag of candy was hanging on the door. The staff here at Featherstone are so wonderfully thoughtful! We took everything out of the bag and inventoried the stash, and she started to eat one of the small candy bars. 

I joked with her about getting sick on candy, and then I hugged her again and told her I had to leave, but I would be back tomorrow for sure. I kissed her and went out, closing the door behind me.

I stopped in the front lobby and asked the nurse to check on her and let me know if she she was upset later in the day. I explained the little memory  breakthrough and how upset she was, and then I embarrassed myself by breaking down in front of everyone. I hate it when I do that. I’ve become a sentimental old codger, I guess.

I told them about giving her a little of my Margarita, and maybe that was what triggered the awareness moment. We joked about a new therapy for Alzheimer’s patients and they offered lots of sympathy and support and hugs whenever I need it. 

Then I left in the car.

Alzheimer’s is not a smooth slide downhill to the bottom. There are real bumps on the way. I’m hanging on as best I can!