Brains & bunnies

H says to me in the car on the way to a local park, "I can really tell that my brain is not what it used to be. "

"How so honey?" I know the answer, but am wanting to encourage him to talk.

He says, "I can't remember hardly anything anymore and I keep having to re-learn how to use programs on the computer. And I've had to learn them again and again."

"That must be very frustrating," I say. What else can I say?

"And I can tell what's from the dementia and what's from the stroke and the epilepsy and what's from the meds."

I nod and say, "That's a lot of stuff, isn't it? Honey, you have gotten more than your share. And I'm sorry for that."

"Yea, me too. I thought it would get better without the (anti-viral) meds, but it isn't."

I say, "Give it some time, honey," not believing what I'm saying.

When we get to the park, he sees a bunny and goes on about it for quite some time. "Oh, look a bunny…." He's standing there pointing his cane at it, bending down and talking loudly to it. People looking at him being so excited and smiling kindly like they do for a little kid. I find it challenging to stand there.

We walked a bit in the gardens, but it became very clear that he was struggling just to walk around on level ground. I'm learning to be more patient and go slowly with him, which is hard as my gut just wants to run away.

And later on the way home, he says, laughing, "It just made my day to see the little bunny. I love rabbits, you know, so soft and furry and kind."