Regan called this afternoon to tell me about her visit to mum and dad yesterday. As she and Cassy approached the back door, dad came out, looking very cheerful, and said:

'We were just reminiscing about the war.'

Once inside the house, they were greeted by mum who was also highly animated and tried to recount the conversation she'd been having with dad.

'He said...and I said...'

Mum was affectionately tapping dad on his shoulder, and looked well - better, Regan said, than she had seen her for quite a while.

Dad said, 'we were remembering our happy times - not that the war was very happy, of course.'

Apparently they had both been entertaining themselves to the fullest.

Mum then went into her room and returned with a china doll, which she presented to Cassy, saying:

'I don't know her name.'

They decided to call her Molly. Mum made the body and clothes for this doll many years ago, in an evening class.

This kind of interaction has been almost unheard of for many months - but may now be coming back. It reminds me of the day not so long when mum and dad were having a reasonably normal conversation about their school days. And for mum to give something away, in contrast to her habit of hoarding, is also quite a turnaround. I can only assign credit to Aricept, since nothing else seems to have changed.

Rachel emailed me this week and what she had to say supports the picture Regan paints. Rachel calls mum and dad every Sunday afternoon. Dad usually answers the phone and passes it straight to mum. Here's part of what Rachel said of her conversation with mum:
Apart from the fact that she asked me several times who I was, mum appeared to be comparatively alert and we were able to have a reasonably interesting conversation. The fact that she could say, 'and what's your name?' quite confidently was remarkable in itself. She laughed quite a lot in all the appropriate places when I said something amusing or silly and was able to volunteer information of her own in a conversational manner.
 
I'm telling you all this of course because I'm wondering if it might be evidence of her medication having some positive effect. Interestingly, after I had told her my name a couple of times and reminded her I was her daughter, she asked me where I was and my number. At first I thought she wanted an address but then I realised she was looking at the speed dial numbers. When I said I was number 2 it seemed to make more sense to her. I joked that next time I ring up I will just say 'It's number two here' - she seemed to think that was quite funny and had a bit of a giggle.
I hope that what we are experiencing is a temporary lull in Alzheimer's inexorable progress, rather than just a coincidental conjunction of lucid moments. None of us has any illusions that the current relief will be permanent, let alone improve - but it is good while it lasts.