Sunday was rather long. While it was a beautiful day and we made progress setting up her TV in her new trailer, and we were able to empty out and sort most of the drawers and cabinets in her kitchen, we also sat with her on the porch of the farm house for small chunks of the day, trapped in our seats by her endless repetitive jabbering. I’ve started tuning out, which is dangerous because sometimes she throws me a curve ball and asks a question. Then I have to respond with a vague shrug or ask her to repeat the question. At this stage I don’t think she notices that I’m not really listening. What I am still wrestling with is how to answer the same question asked over and over.
“Do you think I should just bring six place settings?”
“We have already put plates in your cabinet, you won’t need full place settings.”
“I guess I need to bring over my plates. How many place settings do you think I will need?
“Remember, we already put plates in your cabinet, you don’t need full place settings.”
But even the repetitions do not stress me as much as her denial, which leaves me at a complete loss about how to react. She’s been told she has AD and she certainly recognizes that something is terribly wrong with her memory, but she still acts shocked when she cannot find a word or forgets one of the grandkids’ name or can’t recall the content and conclusions of a conversation that took place only hours or even minutes before.
And then there’s the newest issue that reared its ugly head this week. She has forgotten how to add and subtract numbers in her bank register. The last thing we did last night was discover that she cannot subtract $63.12 from her bank balance. She said over and over how foolish she felt. My husband offered to take over her bill paying anytime she was ready.
“Uh, huh,” she replied, waving off what he had just said, “I just couldn’t find my calculator. I felt so foolish.”
How do you tell someone that her mind is melting?
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