Being Patient

Sunday 5:45a.m.
It’s the last weekend of summer and the windows are open; I’m in a light weight nightgown and perfectly comfortable.
“I’m fridging.”
“What?”
I’m fridging … er it’s ... cold in here. I’m … I’m…”
“Freezing?”
“Freezing. I’m freezing.”
As always when he gets out from under the covers, Bob reacts instantly to what he experiences. In the life of a person with Alz no later or before exist. Only now which is … you know, fridging.
I get up and give him the long sleeved blue shirt he’d worn around the house the day before.
“What’s this? I want the shirt I wore yesterday.”
“That’s it.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Ok, let’s just try this and see how it works.”
“No, I’ve never worn this one.”
Sigh. “Ok, let me get you a sweatshirt.”
“Good.”
I get one down from the closet.
“Thanks. I wore this all day yesterday.”
No, you didn’t. “I think you’ll be too hot shortly.”
“I won’t. This is perfect. It’s what I wanted.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Not 10 minutes later we’re sitting in the living room and he starts fidgeting.
“Can I help with something?”
“This shirt is bothering me.”
“Oh?”
“Well, it’s too heavy and it scratches my neck.”
I do not say but you wore it yesterday.
“Want to change into something else?”
“Yes I do.” I’m kind of hot in this too.”
I hand him the long sleeved blue shirt he’d worn the day before.
“Perfect.”