Friday

As usual, it took multiple attempts to get mom out of the house for a walk yesterday. Just when I thought she was ready, she came downstairs in a warm sweater. I asked if she had something underneath--the day before, which was not as warm, she'd shed a layer as soon as we started walking. I wanted to make sure that if she shed a layer, she had another one underneath. Also the other day, she kvetched the minute we got out of the car--about how she wanted to go on the walk at the dog park, and how I didn't know what I was talking about since I'd never been there. Then, she came around and started talking about how beautiful it was by the river.


Yesterday, we finally got out and went to another spot on the river. It is true: I don't like the dog park. It's far away, and it's mostly a field and then the area around a hotel. Besides, we were going to stop at a store near this part of the river. So we get out of the car and mom starts kvetching, with no sense of irony, about how she wants to go to the dog park and once I get something in my head, it's stuck and I won't consider anything else. It is entirely beautiful there, but mom complains through most of the walk instead of enjoying what's around her. This is not a new behavior for mom.

We leave the trail just as it's starting to sprinkle. Dad wants to stop at the bank inside the supermarket on the other side of the parking lot, but they start having a prolonged conversation about whether it's going to rain, as I keep pointing out that they could get to the bank and back by the time it rains. That gets us out of the parking lot and into the store, but mom decides to wander so we don't get out before it starts to pour. I have a rain jacket, so I run and get the car to pick them up. By the time we get home, the rain has let up and mom starts complaining about how we left the trail too soon and she wants to go back and finish the walk.

Dinner brings the odd political rant, and then mom starts going on about how dad threw away all these beautiful things but thankfully the trash collectors salvaged them. I point out that the beautiful things--old calendars and mailing labels from charities--are still in the living room because mom took them out of the recycling bin. She says, no, there's more and they're gone forever. There's no point in arguing with someone with Alzheimer's--her reality is her reality--but if there was a way to make her feel better about the treasures lost, I was going to try it. Finally, we got to sorting the calendars and at least got her to let go of old ones.

We'll see if there's more drama over lost treasures today.