The Conversation
Who could possibly believe the conversations that transpire with a person who has memory loss? Pretend that you are invisible in the room!
Him: I need coffee.
Me: Here is your coffee.
Him: It is too hot. Put in an ice cube.
Me: (plopping in the cube) Here is the coffee with the ice cube.
Him: The coffee is too cold. Why do you give me cold coffee?
Me: You asked for the ice cube.
Him: I can’t drink cold coffee.
Me: Sorry about that.
Him: I want more coffee!
Me: The coffee is finished.
Him: Why?
Me: Because it was made earlier today and we used it all.
Him: I want more.
Me: You have had enough coffee. It is not good for your ulcer.
Him: I don’t have an ulcer.
She: Yes, you do. Too much coffee irritates it.
Him: What do you care? You don’t care!
(A few minutes later…. It begins again:)
Him: I need my B-12!
Me: You have B-12 on Thursday and Sunday. It is written on your check list.
Him: You did not put it in my ear!
Me: B-12 is taken under the tongue.
Him: Why are ear drops going under my tongue?
Me: No, B-12 is not for the ears.
HIM: Why are you lying to me?
Me: I never lie to you. (confession: that is not exactly true…but never about his medications…)
Him: Did you give me my ear drops?
Me: Not today. You have them on Sunday. Today is Friday.
Him: You never gave them to me on Sunday.
Me: Yes, I did.
Him: You are lying to me!
Me: (feeling a small discomfort in my chest… left side, could it be heart?) Let’s put your check-list away now. (Hubby’s clipboard with his “schedule” is his most treasured possession. It is intended to create order and a sense of calm for a befuddled mind. Him looks at it every few minutes throughout the day.)
Him: No. How will I know if you are doing everything right without it?
Me: (Thinking to myself:) You’ve got to be kidding!
Substitute Caregiver (C.G.): Let’s play a game.
Me: He likes “Word builder” in the newspaper.
C.G.: Let’s do the crossword puzzle.
Me: No, that is too hard for him. Do the “Word builder” please.
(C.G. Gives Hubby a piece of paper and pencil to write down the words.)
Me: No, you write down the words as he finds them.
Him: I found a five-letter word: “W I L E S.”
Me: (speaking to C.G.): Please write down the word.
(C.G proceeded to write the word as if it is Chinese, from the top of the page to the bottom.)
Me: (Thinking I am going quite mad) Why are you writing the word vertically?
C.G.: No answer.
Him: I can only find one five-letter word.
Me: Try some three letter words.
Him: I am not interested in those. I have one! …. W I L E S.
C.G: We have that one already.
Him: I cannot find any more five-letter words.
Me: Try some smaller ones too.
Him: Staring at the letters… (No response. He will not consider my suggestion. Is it “will not,” or is it “cannot?”) (Please read the DD chapter “Can’t vs Won’t”).
Me: (He has always liked this game. The challenge of the five-letter word was always his favorite. Now he reverts back to his previous inclination, and refuses to look for smaller ones. This game is clearly not working anymore.)
Him: (for the fifth time) – Do you have “W I L E S”?
C.G.: Yes, I have written it… look here on the paper.
C.G.: (Now looking at her phone, hoping to escape. She has thrown in the “proverbial towel.” She has the patience of a grasshopper.)
When I shared this experience with others in my support group, their responses gave me pause:
“At least your husband speaks.”
“I wish my husband could still talk to me…”
I cannot imagine a Hubby who does not emote every thought that enters his mind. I understand now… that the deafening silence is a greater enemy than the verbosity. I count my small blessings.
