There aren’t any crises to report this
month. That in itself is a
positive. Today Carol talked me into going
for a walk around the neighborhood. It’s
the last day of May and it’s already in the lower nineties in Northwest
Florida. Since my profile resembles that
of Buddha these days, I couldn’t turn her down.
We walked around the block and she asked me about the places where I
used to live. I told her all the places,
including Pueblo. I said that’s where we
met and got married. Every now and then
I ask her “remember me? I’m the guy from the courthouse,” which usually prompts
a “yeah! I remember you!” After I told
her about all the places I lived, then it was my turn. She remembered coming from Lamar,
Colorado. Then it was out to California
for a long time. She told me about her
Grandma and her kids. “Do you remember
their names – Cindy and Sandy?” “Yeah,
those were the kids. Where are they now?”
I told her.
About a week ago, she misplaced her wallet. This concerned her because it had her driver’s
license and some cash [but no credit cards this time]. It’ll turn up somewhere in the house, but I’m
not going to lose my own sanity trying to find it. I went online the other day to replace her
license, but found that she was eligible to have her license renewed for a few years. I jumped at the opportunity and filled out
the renewal paperwork. This was the
proverbial blessing in disguise because last year I had to get my license
renewed. I needed either a birth
certificate or a passport to prove my identity.
She doesn’t have a passport, and since she lost her memory we don’t know
where her birth certificate is. But
since I could renew it online, I can take my time about getting a copy of her
birth certificate from Prowers County, Colorado [Lamar]. She doesn’t drive anymore, but having a
driver’s license is a big deal because it’s her only photo ID. We expect the
renewed license in the mail sometime the first week of June.
She is worried about seeing her
parents. She just wants to “go home.”
Carol has some idea that things aren’t normal because I’ve been home a
lot. When we visited her sister in
Wisconsin last fall, we all made plans to have a family reunion in Fort Collins
in June. Those plans have since gone out
the window. Her folks live in a senior
living facility. It isn’t a nursing
home, but it is a place that “the virus” would put the residents at risk. For now, the only people allowed in the place
are people who are there to clean, and people who are delivering food. If we went there, we wouldn’t get past the front
door. She really misses her folks, but
going to Colorado at this point is out of my hands. Maybe we’ll go in July. If not then, we’ll try August. We’re on a month-to-month slip. It all depends on Colorado’s governor. I think the “family reunion” plan is gone,
but we’ll still make it there sometime.
Greg and Mark are both in their twenties, so they’re cordless now. They have their own things to do like work
and college.
Lately she has taken to letting our cats
outside for a few minutes at a time.
When Alex was still alive, he was our only “outdoor” cat. He would come home to sleep sometimes, eat
and read his mail [ok, maybe not the last part]. Alex passed away a few years ago, and we had
to put down the next-oldest cat [Bizzell] a couple of years ago because his
kidneys stopped working. That leaves us
with Blackie, Smokie, and Cleo. They’ve
been indoor cats since we fostered them ten years ago. Her letting them outside concerns me, because
sometimes large birds around here like to snatch up the smaller critters for
dinner. They don’t know what cars are,
and probably wouldn’t know to move out of the way if one approaches. They don’t know what dogs are. We don’t have a problem with dogs on the
loose here, but every now and then we’ll see a stray. I’ve said before that I’m a dog lover who is
trapped in a cathouse. I’m allergic to
cats, but Allegra allows me to tolerate their presence. I’m fairly attached to them now. Smokie and Cleo talk to Carol. When they do, it sounds like they’re saying “Carol.” Blackie is the one who talks to me. Smokie likes to sit on her lap while she’s
watching TV. When I come to bed, he’s
sleeping next to her, but then he gets off the bed when it’s bedtime for
me. I have to remind her to keep the
cats inside. When I awakened from my
Sunday morning medically-induced coma this morning, I heard scratching at the
front door. I knew what it was, but Carol asked me “what is that noise?” I opened the door and showed her – it was
Blackie. She didn’t remember letting him
out.
While I was watching another German soccer
match, I asked Carol if she remembered my name.
The answer was “no”. She doesn’t
remember having Greg or Mark. She’s been
having trouble eating lately. Things
sound good to her, but once she starts eating, she almost stops immediately. Anything and everything make her feel nauseous. I asked her if she wanted anything to
eat. She said she wanted something
round. “Like a hamburger?” “Yeah.”
It’s the same with anything to drink. We have soda, water, and Power Ade,
none of which appeal to her. She said
that maybe iced tea would do the trick.
I found a jug of peach-flavored Arizona tea in the pantry and put it in
the refrigerator. Maybe that will
work.
The tree people are back. She still talks to them, and they to
her. I’m not sure what is discussed, but
for now the tree people are ok, and they’re staying outside. Since this COVID-19 madness started, I’ve
been working from home. We have a room in the back of the house where I can do
work [such that it is]. The other day
she came in and asked me if I was ok.
She looked very concerned, like maybe I had a heart attack or
something. I assured her I was
fine. I don’t know what prompted
that. Maybe she remembered the time I
went to the ER with chest pains on 4th of July weekend several years
ago. It was not a heart attack. I had some bad back spasms that worked around
the left side of my chest to make it feel uncomfortable. I had the feeling at work earlier in the day
and didn’t think much of it. I felt it
again while we were out having dinner.
She insisted I go to the ER, and I didn’t feel like arguing with
SWMBO. The doctors confirmed what I
already knew – no heart attack. Maybe
something in her synapses triggered a memory. I don’t know.
Lately she has taken to having
conversations with her reflection in the mirror. I keep telling her that it was herself that
she was taking to, but she seems convinced the person in the mirror is someone
else. I guess as long as the person in
the mirror isn’t threatening her, I shouldn’t worry about it. Strangely, she’ll keep the bathroom light on
and the door closed because “somebody is in there”. I’m tempted to get some white shoe polish
[the liquid kind] and write “THIS IS NOT REAL” on the mirror.
