Cheryl has in her office files a phenomenal amount of random keepings of the pieces of her life and ours together. In her current state of Parkinson she will look through, take out, put back and reorganize these as she sees fit on certain days.
Pieces can come out of the office and land on the dinning room table for perusal and examination. A few days ago a real estate listing for our previous house appeared on the table papercliped to a receipt for home owners insurance for the first month that we lived there in 1980. If only I had been more interested in preserving the history of our small family I might be able to help her with discussions that begin “remember when… ?” I am disappointed in myself when I cannot help her. Much of that, for me, is lost in a fog of work, kids, school events, soccer games, parental worry, ( et al. ) none of which was collected in my memory with great detail.
I was adult then. Why can I not recall details like she can even through the mist of Parkinson? – although she has lost other memories.
Yesterday we went on one of our trips to a new place for lunch. She seemed to be doing well mentally and physically.
Tuesday we visited with her neurologist (MDS) which meant that Monday night through Tuesday morning she slept little. She was anxious to not miss the appointment. The rest of Tuesday and much of Wednesday was used up with recovery from lack of sleep, showtime for the NP, meds adjustments, pizza Tuesday with extra participants and simply mental fatigue.
These days her mind seems to have focused on Easter, so, much of our luncheon conversation centered on hard-boiled eggs, jellybeans, artificial grass and other items associated with Easter and Easter egg hunts. She ate her usual BLT and I had another sandwich with fires. We shared the fries. The Mason Grill was one of my favorite lunch places when I worked in my other career as engineer and Mr. Industrial Fixit guy. She remarked as we ate that she used to bring her Mom to this place and her Mom liked it. She reminisced about her mother and taking her to lunch when her mom was in assisted living.
Last evening she went to bed at the normal time and got up a few minutes later because her mind was racing around Easter services at our parish. She is unwilling to accept my premise that I will not let her miss anything important. I tell her this often. (In the background she recognizes that presence at church gatherings is not a high priority for me.) She sat at the dinning room table which has lately become her center of operations and read the church bulletin. She was very still staring at the bulletin for December 22, 2022. (I imagine inside her head her brain was struggling with Christmas : Easter : Christmas : Easter in a parkie way.) Words, dates and times lose their meaning in the evening.
I read my book for awhile longer and we went to bed at 11:15 or so.
Today I could not arouse her until 10AM. She was in the same position that she started in at 11:15 the previous night.
Another day passed.