"I'll just go to the store and buy you some.... whatever it is we're looking for."

They say it's not Alzheimer's. It's some form of Dementia, though, and it's rapidly taking the man everyone knows and admires away. I refuse to let this happen, on my watch, without grace and humor.

Tuesday Ella decided that I should clean the oven racks with oven cleaner, and set the automatic clean cycle on the oven.The only oven cleaner I could find was the super cheap stuff I'd brought from home to clean the gas stove grates. It wasn't working.

"I know you've got 'Easy-Off' here somewhere," I told her. There was that day, a few weeks ago, that Don had applied it to an insect sting or bite. We searched in vain. Don got actively involved in the search. "You brought it up from the shed" I told him. (The word "remember" is stricken from our vocabulary when dealing with any kind of memory issue or Dementia, or Alzheimer's) He decided we should go to the shed, and he showed me the little key house where the keys are kept. Once in the shed, which was wide open and unlocked already, he began searching the shelves. "What does it look like?" he asked. "Blue can - and a lid like a paint can lid" I said. He handed me the Carburetor cleaner. "Hmmm," I said, "if my carburetor has a problem I'll be sure and ask for this!" He laughed, shook his head, and put it back. This was repeated with the oil, some various bug sprays, and garden supplies. I assured him it was not in the shed, but that it was fortunate we came down there, as the door was open and unlocked. He is so unsteady on his feet. As we left the shed he confided in me; "They won't let me work in the yard anymore." I'm telling you - if you want to be a caregiver you may have a heart that's a mile wide, but you can't cry at the wrong time. "I know," I said. "That's a pain, huh?"  He's shuffling now, walking toward the house. "Yes, it's a pain."

"You know what's behind that, though, Don? The real reason they said that to you?"
"No."
"Well - the truth is - they care about you."
"Yes, yes, I know that's true."

We got back in the house and he relentlessly searched high and low for that item. By this time he had completely forgotten what he was looking for, but he was on a mission. All cabinets, shelves, nooks and crannies were searched. Finally he came to me in the kitchen, eyes downcast.

"I just can't find it."
"It's okay, Don - I made do with the cheap stuff. It's totally okay."
"HEY! I'll go to the store and buy some... whatever it is we're looking for... for you!"
I look into his eyes, and say very gently, "Sir, it's absolutely okay. There is no need for you to go and do that for me."

The car keys have been hidden from him for months. He will never drive again, and I know this, but there is no way he knows this.

I wrapped up my work day, ending with preparing them a dinner they'd enjoy together, in private, later.

Sometimes when I'm leaving the house I want to hug him for a long time and take in that spirit. I truly never know when it will be the last time he will remember me, or even the last time he'll be there. Our farewells are always so cheerful, and hopeful. "I"ll see you Friday!" he says, with a big smile.