Sometimes I can convince her that we have come home and we have not left the house.
On other days and nights that is impossible. No night is the same. On this night we had to go home.
I gently got her in the car. I was proud of the fact that I did not get upset. As we drove around the block about 2 mile per hour below the speed limit – the ride is longer that way – I kept up some chatter about various things. Some stories about upcoming events on our calendar.
As we drove in front of our regular Pizza Tuesday spot, she told me about being there last Friday with Paul.
As I turned the corner to climb the hill, I asked her if she knew the way from here. I got no response. As we got to the top of the hill and she began to recognize some land marks she said, “I live on the other side of all that.” (She was headed home in her mind.)
As we got close to our driveway entrance I said, “It’s good to be home. Isn’t it?” she responded, “Yes, it is. I’m tired.”
Dementia, Capgras and Parkinson were in full cooperation this night.
I fear that this little drive around the block reset ploy will not always work. That makes me anxious.
Maybe God will provide me with another plan.