Fog-man: He cometh and goeth.

Friday night on the train was a bit dreadful. I didn't experience it as completely dreadful though, since it was my first night of sleep deprivation in some time, and--in a way--I enjoyed the opportunities to see...Pittsburgh, Toledo, and some other random trackside burgs by night. Furthermore, breakfast and coffee brightened Jeff's mood and cognitive profile by enough that I ended up feeling optimistic.

Still, while I am very happy to be on the Southwest Chief myself tonight--Saturday--Jeff is looking and acting peaked, and I'm concerned that the experiment--2 nights by train--may have been pushing his limits. I hope that even though neither Santa Fe nor Flagstaff are home, we can do enough recuperating in a plush and sleepable bed that we'll reestablish something of his status quo.

Here's a difficult thing about the aspect of a human impaired by Alzheimer's: I see what looks like a down mood, a heavy head, a wan smile...and I want to call it depression, or a sad mood, or a heavy heart. And I want to consider the significance of those things as points relative to the norm--the norm being not-affected-by-Alzheimer's. But between those two points--the aspect I'm considering and a non-AD "norm"--there is a wide chasm. A tired, depleted person with Alzheimer's may not be so bad off as I imagine. I am possibly assigning the aspect more weight than I should. A nice sleep may be all that it takes, and the mood may not be one that I should be thinking of as extreme. (I realize, upon thought, that's it's our version of "sundowning," or the classic Alzheimer's condition of nighttime bringing a marked downshift in function and coherence.)

Well...let us see tomorrow. I think I'll be calling Rich the cabin steward to see if he can wrangle our compartment into sleeping configuration very shortly...

...In the glowing Colorado Sunday morning light, I can say that we slept much better last night. I gave the upper bunk a shot, thinking maybe elbow room would be helpful for both of us, but I quickly realized that from up there--with no room to sit up, no access to the cabin lightswitch, and a bit of contortionism involved in coming down--I was poorly positioned to help with the inevitable night-time bathroom requirements. So I shoved the upper bunk into stowed position as best as I could, and went with coziness below. It was the right choice. Fog-man, as we will call Jeff's nocturnal alter ego, had many concerns: Whose house is this? Why don't I have pants? Where are my pants? Maybe we should go home and get pants. Comfortable, snug, and with a fine view of the Kansas City rail station (where the passenger bridge strongly resembles a cattle chute,) I handled these questions with humor and aplomb, keeping Fog-man reasonably calm and settled, such that he could transform, by morning, back into a version of Jeff who appreciates coffee, breakfast, scenery, and a bit of adventure.