One of the aspects of this disease that I find interesting is when Mom has a memory. Memory is probably a strong word ... she occasionally has a sense of having done something before. When we sit down at her favorite table at McDonald's, she will sometimes say something like, "I've been here once before, haven't I?" Or, as we turn down the street that she has lived on for 40 years, she'll say, "I used to know someone who lived on this street." I always find that comment sadly insightful.
After her shower this morning, Mom was sitting
on the couch, looking around, and commenting about things in the room...
"I've seen that before. You've brought me here before. This looks
familiar." Her comments and attitude makes me imagine how it must feel to walk
around, lost in heavy fog when, in the distance, you spy the outline of
a familiar building, only to watch it be swallowed by the fog again.
You're still lost, but for just a moment, you have the hope of finding your way home.
As for this morning's memories, I knew the fog had returned when she picked up a tissue from beside her and said, "Now this looks familiar!"