Musings on the Alzheimer’s Mind

We approached the post office door as someone was leaving, his arm full of packages pressed up to his chin. He attempted to prop the door open for us, but dropped one of the packages. Cindy immediately responded with “let me” and feebly reached out her arm, touching the man’s arm. She perceived the situation and wanted to help, but that’s as far as it could go.

I’ve said it before; I’ll keep saying it. More goes on in the Alzheimer’s mind than is given credit. If a person is truly “out of it” with Alzheimer’s I suspect they are either very near the end or that’s where their mind wants them to be to handle the situation. Even with this figured out for myself I am fascinated occasionally with what might be going through Cindy’s mind.

The stairway has been an increasing adventure for us. Occasionally I must resort to grabbing first one leg, then the other, to step her down the stairs, while she leans on my shoulders. I go: “One foot, two foot. One foot, two foot.” Sometimes I even add in “Red foot, blue foot.” to underscore the reference to Dr. Seuss. I get to the bottom and declare: “We did it!” She smiles in a way to indicate her mind has bought into the concept that it is teamwork, not caregiving, that gets her down the stairs.

Halfway down the stairs I often stop to pet Garfield. Cindy pets him too, in a way, by patting my head while I’m bending down to pet the cat. In her mind this seems to work for showing her affection to Garfield.

I’ve always puzzled at how well Cindy handles the indignity of me helping out with the toilet. New light was shed on this when I commented: “I’ll do this, it’s easier.” She replied in an affirmative manner (I no longer recall the exact words) that indicated this was all a practical matter for her. It’s logical for me to do it because it’s easier, not that she couldn’t do it if she had to of course, but let’s just be sensible about this.

Then there is the pedicab. As in, Cindy knows what it is, knows what we are about to do, when I suggest it’s time for a ride in the pedicab. Two months ago I never heard of the word “pedicab,” certainly that’s true for her as well. Now she has learned the meaning and the significance.

More touching for me is something else she has learned since her affliction. On You Tube I share my progress on American Discovery: A Virtual Symphony, including the Second Movement I recently posted. The fourth movement about Joy has lyrics I’ve written. As I practice the movement while we sit out on the porch, Cindy occasionally joins in with the lyrics, very broken of course, but I can tell she knows them, has learned and can find meaning in “Joy of living, joy of life …..” even as everything else continues to deteriorate.