Whose Cat Are You?

March 2, 2011
Laughter and tragedy are not exclusive of one another.  My family has always been able to laugh, even in tragic circumstances.  In fact, we are finding that Alzheimer's Disease is no exception to the fact that even bitter tragedy often bears with it sweet laughter.

This morning, before I left for work, I walked into my parent's part of the house.  I wanted to make sure my father's disposition was stable before I made tracks for the office.  I have the ability to work from home and sometimes do so if it looks like it will be a rough day.

"Good morning," I called out as I entered the room.  "I'm about to head in to work and just wanted to be sure you two are okay before I do."

"Yeah, Seth," my mother responded.  "Thanks.  We're fine.  I'm doing better than I was doing last night."  She had been discouraged the previous evening, and I was glad to hear that her outlook had improved.

"Good," I replied, preparing to leave. 

"I've moved up in the world!" my mother said.  She gets a certain glimmer in her eye when she has something funny to say.  She had that glimmer now;
so I stopped trying to leave.  I did not realize this as a teenager, but I now know that my mother can be quite funny.

I glanced at my father.  He was lost in his world of cereal, not acknowledging my presence nor the conversation.  I looked back at my mother.

"I used to be his wife..."  

She paused for dramatic effect, the glimmer brightening even more.

"...and then I became a nice lady."  

Pause.

"Then, I became one of those women."  

Pause.

"And this morning, he wanted to know whose cat I was!"