Your Mother Dresses You Funny

The first time you notice a new, interesting behavior with this disease, you think it's a fluke. But it isn't. It's just the first time it's happened. Mark your calendar.

My husband is a U. S. Navy Veteran, and I discovered last year that the Veterans Administration offers respite care at a nearby clinic. More on that in a later post, but when I went to pick him up and take him home, here's what he was wearing:  two undershirts (t-shirts), pajama tops, a heavy shirt, and a light jacket; two pairs of underwear, pajama bottoms, jeans, two pairs of socks, and tennis shoes. How he managed this was a mystery to me, but of course I blamed it on lack of care or attention from the staff.

We didn't have a repeat performance right away, so naturally my thoughts about the VA remained the same. I fired off heated emails and made phone calls of complaint to his doctor and all that. I'm sure you might have done the same thing if you were in my shoes.

About February, even though he was already dressed and looking good, he would get another shirt out of the closet and put it on. Over the one he was already wearing. This started happening regularly. Or he would be dressed and ready to go, but while I was putting myself together, he would change his shirt three times or put his pajamas back on. And then when I handed him his clothing, he would try to put it on over his pajamas. He was going through more wardrobe changes than a model at a fashion show.

The logical order of things escaped him. He tried to put on his pajama top by putting his legs in the armholes. He came out of our room wearing pajamas, a t-shirt, a shirt, and a sweater; his pajama bottoms were under his jeans. He started putting on his boots first, then trying to pull his jeans on. That didn't work too well, and he would get stuck. Being stuck is upsetting. Being upset is not great for you or anyone around you when you have Alzheimer's.

It was clear that this was going to be an ongoing situation. Needless to say, it started taking us a lot longer to get ready for our day, and we're often fashionably late. Okay, we were often fashionably late even before, but it's worse now.

One of the questions we are asked by doctors, I assume as a measurement of progress, is "Does he dress appropriately for the season and/or the occasion?" Uh, no. I've secreted all of his heavy winter shirts away, out of sight. He likes them a lot and insisted on wearing them in 100-degree weather. The other day, he came into the kitchen wearing an undershirt, a shirt, a t-shirt over the shirt, pajama bottoms, shorts over the pajama bottoms, a sandal on one foot, and a boot on the other. And a ball cap to complete the look. So, no.

For the past couple of months, getting ready for bed has become a rather dramatic affair on a regular basis. He frequently resists me when I try to help him remove his street clothing, batting my hands away as if a total stranger were trying to take his clothes off. I suppose I should find this reassuring? I have decided to pick my battles. Who cares if he's wearing a shirt and walking shorts to bed? Come to think of it, it might actually be a good idea in case he wanders out of the house.

But I'm absolutely putting my foot down on wearing shoes, boots, or sandals to bed. For now. Socks are okay, I guess. As long as they aren't the same ones he's been wearing for three days.