The Case of the Missing Shoes

A flash back to the early stages of Alzheimer's

I fold the dish towel and hang it over the stove handle. Wheel of Fortune blares out of the television in the adjoining family room. I wipe down the sink and turn down the kitchen lights. I enter the family room to find Mom fidgeting on the sofa.

MIL: Hummph . . . ummmmm?

Me: Whatcha need, Ma?

MIL: My shoes. Where's my shoes?

Me: (Bending down next to the sofa and picking up her shoes to show her.) Right next to you.

MIL: Oh that's right.

I settle into the sofa across from Mom. About two minutes later she starts fidgeting again.

MIL: Ummmmmm humph?

Me: What's up, Mom?

MIL: Where's my shoes? (Craning her neck to look over the arm of the sofa)

Me: (Smiling and shaking my head) Next to you.

MIL: Oh yep, there they are.

I pick up my computer to check emails. Maybe three or four minutes pass.

MIL: Humph, humph! Umm?

Me: Yes, Mom, whadya need?

MIL: Shoes! My shoes! Where did you put them?!?

Me: (Smiling, trying to reassure her) Right here, Mom, next to you. Would you like them on a kitchen chair next to you so you can see them?!

MIL: (Sighing) I asked you this once already huh?!

Me: No, you didn't; I just thought it would be easier if you could see them!

MIL: Thank you. That would be good. Ummm where's Frank?

Me: At the firehouse, it's you and me tonight.

I put Mom's shoes on a chair next to the couch. She settles back into the sofa, turning her attention to the television, I realized a long time ago that it's just easier to answer her repetitive questions as if it is the first time I heard them, after all to her, it's the first time she's asked them! Although tonight I think, Crap how am I going to put Frank on the chair?!?