She seemed sharper mentally yesterday–knew immediately who I was and remembered William’s name with a little coaching. (“It’s the same name as one of your favorite relatives,” a clue I’ve used in exactly those words for close to four years now.)
It was too cold to go outside, so I took her from the dining room (again, an hour and a half before supper) back to her room so we could visit. She still has a bit of a cough, and the swelling of her left hand is not completely gone, but overall she is much better.
There was something important on her mind, and she must have told me the same thing in different ways at least four times in 20 minutes.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you (“Mom”, “the nurse”). I just haven’t had any energy lately. I’m not sleepy, I just don’t feel like doing anything.”
Each time I explained that she had only been home from the hospital for a few days and it was quite normal for her to be tired. She’d agree, we’d sing a few of her favorite songs, and then she’d begin the same thing again.
“I guess it’s too far for Mom to walk here.”
I said I thought she was right, and asked what she would like to say to her mother if she could.
“I’d tell her I love her.” I told her I was certain her mother knew that very well.
She made a brief recording on WhatsApp for Layla and Ryan, her great-grandchildren, even though she hasn’t any idea who they are or how they are related to her. Today Layla sent a verbal message back, but she was riding in the car with her mom, and the back ground noise is such that Mother would not be able to understand her.
It doesn’t matter on this end, because she won’t remember having sent the message in the first place.