In mid-July, the husband of one of my cousin’s died. He had Alzheimer’s for several years and it had gotten to the last stages and we lost him. His wife, Kathleen, said she found some solace in writing about Robert and remembering the happy times, and she sent me a story I’d like to share. Her title might be “Don’t stop the adventures.”

I took Robert to his regular primary care doctor’s visit on that Monday. The doctor examined him and then said to me, “In six months he won’t know who you are.” I told the doctor that I thought we had longer, but kept telling myself it is what it is and put on a smile. I didn’t want to distress Robert.

This visit to the doctor made me extremely stressed and, coupled with my cabin fever, after a cold, snowy winter, I decided we needed to make the most of the time we had left, before he stopped knowing me.

The next morning I saw an advertisement in the morning newspaper for a blues music group that was going to be performing at a local club. Robert and I celebrated our 40th anniversary in New Orleans and I thought this would bring back some wonderful memories, at least for me. The Big Mumbo Band would be at The Bend nightclub and although we hadn’t been “out” to see any of Spokane’s night life for over 25 years, I made the decision that we would go out that Saturday night.

Robert knew that something different was happening that night when I had him shower at 7 p.m. and put on the clothes I laid out — his Nero silky shirt and a great jazzy vest that matched. He looked great.

The show started at 9 p.m. but I wanted to get there a little early. The guy at the front told us there was a cover charge of $3, but as I dug for the money he changed his mind. I think he thought, ‘Here are two old geezers out for a night,’ and he changed the cover to $3 for the both of us.

When we walked into the club I realized we should have come earlier. The only place I could see to sit was at a table for four where only a single man sat. I gathered my courage and asked him if we could join him. He said yes; what else could he do?

We sat down and I decided I should explain that Robert had Alzheimer’s and after 9 p.m. his conversational skills were challenging. Soon after that his wife joined us. We chatted and realized we had much in common and they became our new best friends.

Robert and I ordered virgin Bloody Mary’s that were firecracker hot, so we had to order water too.

The music started and we were laughing and chatting when a blond lady — 50ish — came up to our table. She only talked to Robert. She said she saw him come in and he looked so cute. She was smiling widely. I thought she was just being friendly, but then I realized she was hitting on my husband. She asked him to dance.

Robert was confused and not really able to follow the conversation, so I said, “Robert, this lady wants to dance with you.” Just a few minutes ago he’d asked me to dance and I’d said we would after the break, when the band started again. He smiled and said, yes, he wanted to dance. The band started again so they did. After all, this was his last adventure maybe. They danced the whole set and Robert was so happy and by now it was 10:30 p.m. and time to take us home. We said good night to our new best friends and went home.

The next day I told our son about our adventure and said my cabin fever was over. He listened and then said, “Way to go, Dad. You still got it. Lucky you to get hit on.”

I smiled and thought, yes, way to go, Dad. He did better than I thought he would in the crowd and loud music and I was determined not to stop the adventures until …

Now, I say to you, my readers, don’t forget to have some adventures.

— Donna Lee Anderson  writes Hansville Happenings for the Kingston Community News. Contact her at WellToldTales@aol.com