Oliver: Going apple-picking with Alzheimer’s can be a bit of an adventure

When a friend of ours suggested we go apple-picking, I jumped at the chance.

I ran the idea past my husband, Tony, who is in the middle stages of early onset Alzheimer’s disease. He’s mostly nonverbal these days but capable of letting me know whether he would be up for the trip. His broad smile told me that, at least for that moment, the plan was a good one.

Doing anything with someone with dementia is complicated. This is someone who has no idea how to dress for the weather, doesn’t know what shoes to pick, sometimes doesn’t want to put said shoes on, and the list goes on and on. I suppose it’s a bit like trying to get out the door with a 3-year-old. I have no experience in that, but I’ve heard stories.

When the day arrived to go to the orchard, Tony decided he wasn’t interested in putting on his “outdoor” shoes. No, he wanted to stay in his slippers.

After a bit of cajoling, we got it done. Since it was a beautiful fall day with the temperature in the upper 60s, I figured he’d be OK if he just had on his sweater.

Everything was going smoothly once we made it to the U-pick farm with an orchard that’s close to our house. Of course, it was packed.

Back in the days before Alzheimer’s, crowds were not Tony’s idea of a good time. Now, however, he didn’t react at all. I’m the one who became anxious, worrying that he’d wander off.

As we made our way to the apple trees, large raindrops started to fall. Not a lot, but enough to change the smile on Tony’s face to a look of displeasure. At me. As if I was the one trying to rain on his parade. Happily, though, it was just one passing cloud, and Tony soon was happy again.

At one point, Tony grabbed my friend’s hand. It took us awhile to figure out that he did that because his hands were cold. I should have brought gloves for him and probably a warmer jacket. Lesson learned.

Once we made it to the trees, the trick was to keep an eye on Tony while trying to pick apples. No, Tony, don’t pick them off the ground. Hey, try to keep up, please. Where do you think you’re going?

Despite the constant reminders, Tony did seem to be having a good time. He enjoys seeing people and he tends to be friendly even to strangers.

That friendliness might have confused the driver of a cart who stopped to see whether we wanted a ride back to the parking lot. Tony, I believe, thought the driver wanted to shake his hand. Who knows?

Our friend wanted to walk, and I figured the more walking Tony would do, the less restless he would be later. (I was wrong, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.)

On the way to the apples, I was able to hold Tony’s hand to make sure he stayed with us. On the way back, I had a bag of apples in each hand. That meant I had to keep looking behind me to make sure Tony was keeping up.

Still, we managed to make our way back to the main barn. Now our friend wanted to go into the store to get some apple cider doughnuts to take home.

We had already stopped for a doughnut to snack on before picking apples. Tony wasn’t quite sure what it was that I handed to him. Apple cider doughnuts always were a favorite of ours, so it was sad that he didn’t recognize that it was a treat.

It was only when we were trying to walk back to the car that Tony gave me a good scare. I looked back and no Tony. When I called his name, he didn’t respond. When he saw us, he did an “airplane” turn like a 5-year-old would do. Cute, but not really.

In the end, it was a successful trip. And a good reminder about how stressful any out-of-routine activities can be for me, with so many details to keep track of.

It did make me wonder what was going on in Tony’s head. I know he’s not processing the world like I do anymore. His brain is a place I’d like to visit, but I don’t think any of us would want to live there.

Including my dear Tony.

• Joan Oliver is the former Northwest Herald assistant news editor. She has been associated with the Northwest Herald since 1990. She can be reached at jolivercolumn@gmail.com.