Tonight was a difficult night. Bo was confused and frustrated, fixated on an idea.
“What do I have to do tomorrow….?
“But when do I have to get up tomorrow….?”
“But when do I begin….?”
“I thought I was to help a girl or take someone….”
He holds his head unable to finish his confused thoughts.
“There’s absolutely nothing you have to do,” I say emphatically. “Not go anywhere or see anyone.”
He starts again:
“But what time do I have to get up?”
“Tell me if there’s something I have to do.”
“I would. I do,” I say.
“But what do I start tomorrow…I thought I had to be out there?” I try to help him find words to say what he means, but they won’t come.
“There’s nothing you have to do. Nobody is coming. You don’t have to go anywhere.”
“But what time do I have to get up? I thought I had to take someone…..”
Each statement ends in mid-thought. He can’t think of the rest of the words. His head is mixed up and he’s so sad. I can’t help him.
“So what time do we have to get up tomorrow morning? The usual?”
Still he ponders the question. Some event had passed through his brain, or did he remember part of an earlier conversation? I don’t know. Where did this come from? Maybe he confused my telling him what I did this morning with tomorrow?
He turns to Emma dog who is staring at his ice cream dish, “I’m really getting bad.”
Usually he forgets things within moments, but there are these fixations. On an incident, a memory, something I’ve said (and should never have mentioned) …. so frustrating for me. I instantly regret my words. Why didn’t I think before I spoke? I must choose my topics of conversation carefully because I can set off a string of questions that never seems to stop.
Then he asks for perhaps the 15th time, “So what time do we get up tomorrow morning?” this man who was so sharp, who never needed to make a note or keep a calendar, who was so under control. I watch him walk out of the room, tired and slow, so confused and unsure about everything.
He turns and says, “You have to tell me what I have to do and when I get up. “
“OK” I say, trying to be casual.
He starts up the stairs. “So what time do I have to go tomorrow?” I take deep breaths, telling myself to be calm before I answer again.
And then he calls down the steps one more time, “What time do I have to go tomorrow?”
Finally, I hear him upstairs moving around in the bedroom, getting ready to lie down, and I hope he will sleep well. Hopefully, he’ll forget all of this by morning.