Tag Archives: ALZHEIMER’S AND TRAVEL

Ralph–A Change of Perspective

Ralph and I just spent almost a week in New Orleans together babysitting while my daughter and son-in-law were away. With the change of scenery came a change of perspective.

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Here on the farm, life plods along. We get up in the morning and drink our first cups of coffee together and then we go about our days.  I have various deadlines, meetings, and activities at home and around town that keep me active so I’m not necessarily paying attention to how Ralph is filling or not filling his time. Of course I check with him regularly to make sure he is following his life list and of course he calls me repeatedly—whether over the phone or in person from the bedroom to the kitchen or over the phone from the bedroom to the kitchen—to ask whatever question has lodged in his brain for the day. And yes I am increasingly involved in getting him to do small activities (Did you take a shower? is one of my favorite nags and is about to go on the life list) and driving him to doctor appointments. But I don’t yet have to think about him minute to minute.

In New Orleans, we were much more in each other’s faces. While BabyRalph was in pre-pre-school, Ralph and I were alone in a house with an open floor plan where neither of us had space to escape to. Ralph wasn’t tucked away in an office or the bedroom. Ralph actually found the stairs to the bedroom too steep to climb more than absolutely necessary, a fact I have to note as I look for a house for us. He was either on the living room couch “reading” (mostly with his eyes closed) or on the back porch smoking. I was sitting in the kitchen trying to concentrate at my computer as he asked me repeated questions when he wasn’t sleeping.

And then there was the smoking. At home, although it drives me crazy that I can’t sit on my front porch anymore, I can almost ignore his smoking. In New Orleans I was responsible for a two-year-old who cried to be with his Bop. If I said, “Bop is outside,” BabyRalph said, “I want to go outside with Bop.” Of course I couldn’t let him outside with Ralph, or to play in his own backyard where the smoke from Ralph’s cigarettes hung paralyzed in the damp heat.  And each time Ralph came back inside, he had to, or at least had to be nagged to de-cigaretize (i.e., wash his hands, etc.,) before he could be around BabyRalph.

And he did love to be around BabyRalph. In the late afternoon for a few hours, Ralph and BabyRalph were inseparable. While they played, and that is what they did-play—I was free to clean up the house and get dinner ready. Ralph was fully engaged with BabyRalph in a way his own children never experienced him.  Of course, we are all more playful and relaxed with our grandchildren than we were with our kids. But there is definitely added-value in Ralph and BabyRalph’s case. Ralph was energized by BabyRalph because they share sense of presentness. BabyRalph has very little past to remember, while Ralph has very little memory of a lot of past.  And neither thinks about the future.

But I do. And what I have realized is that the biggest reason to move to New Orleans is not that we need to downsize or get and give family support but that Ralph needs to interact regularly with BabyRalph, oops now ToddlerRalph, as much as possible because those interactions bring him to life in a way nothing else does.

Living in the Moment

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BabyRalph’s first birthday is coming up at the end of the month. Ralph so enjoyed having the family together at Christmas that the day everyone left he actually agreed to drive with me  to New Orleans for the birthday celebration. Of course, I have avoided bringing up the coming trip too often to avoid unnecessary anxiety.

But yesterday I asked Ralph to help me put together one of BabyRalph’s birthday presents, a scooter. (I am not going to bore you with my own grandmother obsessing about finding the perfect present except to send a shout out to GG if you’re reading.) Of course, Ralph resisted at first, but as you can see he didn’t resist long. In fact he got totally into the project, which turned out to be the perfect level of difficulty: just easy enough for Ralph to manage and just challenging enough for him to feel good about managing. In other words, I actually could have put the scooter together myself, but not with Ralph’s innate ability using tools). It took less than an hour to complete the scooter and Ralph was really pleased. We both were.

So this morning, drinking coffee I brought up the scooter again. I told him the scooter would be his special GrandpaRalph present to BabyRalph, an idea he loved.

“So we’ll give it to him at Christmas, right?”

I looked at him and bit my tongue, the urge toward annoyed correction still strong.

“No his birthday,” I said as calmly as I could. “We just had Christmas.”

“Oh.” He looked flustered. “What month is this?”

“January.”

“Remember we had a big Christmas, everyone here.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He nodded and sipped his coffee thinking. “Who came this year?”

I wonder how all those people who told me Ralph seemed cognitively better this Christmas would react to knowing he’d forgotten about their visit (and in some cases who they were to him) already.

In a nutshell this is Ralph, happy in the moment as long it lasts, his past and future fraying away daily.

RALPH TRAVELS TO BABYLAND WITH MIXED RESULTS

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The picture above of Ralph holding his namesake may be a bit misleading. During the recent ten days Ralph and I spent in New Orleans to hang out with our now three-month-old grandson, Ralph held babyRalph exactly twice.

And that was after much prodding.

But he did hold him. And he did survive ten days away from the farm. (In fact I had booked an airbnb for ten days knowing we might leave early if necessary.) So over all, I’d say it was a victory, a pyrrhic victory…

He was not unhappy. Our son came down from NYC to surprise Ralph and meet babyRalph. Big Ralph was pleased and quite animated the first night. After that he read his book and napped a lot on the couch while the rest of us cared for and played with babyRalph in the next room.

Mostly Ralph drank coffee or beer and smoked cigarettes on my daughter’s front porch. Pretty much the same way he fills his time at home. Fortunately, my daughter recently moved into a renovated New Orleans shotgun with both a front porch. By the second day, Ralph had met pretty much everyone on my daughter’s small street where the neighbors all interact —white, black, Latino, gay and straight, elderly and hipster. Everyone thought Ralph was charming because while talking to strangers who demanded only the smallest small talk, he came to life. But with us inside, he was slightly removed, in a vague fog or intimidated by the hubbub surrounding the baby.

Frankly I found grannynannying while watching out for Ralph exhausting. Physically exhausting because I was running him back and forth from the airbnb where he slept twelve hours every night while I helped with the baby’s early morning feedings. And definitely emotionally exhausting as I tried to be grandmother, mother, wife and caregiver.

On the drive home, we shared what has become a rare moment of genuine conversation. Ralph acknowledged that travelling seems to make his memory worse, that leaving the comfort of his routine was difficult for him. I said I could see that. Then we went back to listening to a Bob Dylan cd.

But the unspoken message hung in the air—no more travel for Ralph.