Saturday, January 26, 2013

"Their Heads Are Bowed, and This Isn't Necessarily a Prayer Meeting"


Kathy stayed with Mom a few minutes after I left, but Mom didn’t one to disturb the one person in the TV area, and she told Kathy that a particular resident, whom we’ll call Earl, was always trying to put the make on the women.
            “I’m annoyed with him,” Mom told Kathy.  “But I also feel sorry for him.”
            Kathy reminded me of what Dee says about Alzheimer’s.  “It’s like Swiss cheese.  Sometimes you get the cheese, and sometimes you get the holes.”

Sent: Thursday, April 28, 2011 2:57 PM
Subject: Mom Today, Thursday, April 29, 2011

Dear Suzy,
                Kathy was upstairs talking to Rosmary when I arrived at 10:45 this morning, and she joined Mom, Ada and me in the garden for a few minutes before Mom excused us both and we had the chance to talk.  Kathy had varied her path a bit in hopes of running into the nurse practitioner who lives a street over,  and sure enough, they met and had the chance to talk a bit.  BAR said she would look for an alternative to the  anti-anxiety medicine Mom is taking now, but first they’re going to up it.  Apparently this morning before I got there Mom went out on the small patio outside Perry’s cafeteria and started shouting for the police.  They gave her another dose of the anti-anxiety medicine then.  I think we’d be better off if we let Kathy give the details pertaining to medicine.  You and she know much more than I do.  I’ll cc her so she can correct any errors I make in that realm.
                Kay and Mom were in their room when I arrived, but Mom was talking to a couple of the aides and explaining that she shouldn’t have the earplugs or any other item that could cause jealousy.  I soon saw that she was the way she was on Tuesday and some date before (which I’ll look up).  She had a prominently displayed sheet of paper—maybe a piece of cardboard—saying, “I’ve admitted or will soon admit a crime.”  (It could have been “confessed,” but I think she just admitted it, and I could feel the frustration of not being sure whether this was your diary or your to-do list.)   
             I couldn’t find the visitors book that Kathy got for Mom, the one we’ve been writing in and putting pictures in, but I didn’t look very thoroughly.  I thought her frame of mind indicated a greater need for Contrary to Popular Belief, which I was able to find. 
            The big pot of flowers I’d brought on Sunday wasn’t there, but your pretty yellow rose plant was.  She’d moved it from the window to  the bureau diagonally across from the refrigerator. 
            Mom told me she’d had to get rid of some things that might hurt the children when they came.                 Mom asked Kay whether she would like us to go out or stay, and Kay, who was fairly friendly, told Mom, “Go with her.” 
            I said, “You’re invited too.” 
            When we left the room, Mom said, “Don’t be so stupid.  She wanted to go with us.”  
            I said, “I invited her,” and Mom said, “Eventually, but not right away.” 
            We sat down in the sitting room (!), and Mom said we had to be very quiet because the people who didn’t have visitors or any kind of life would feel hurt and sad if they saw us.  
            I looked into the next room and saw about six old people sitting still with their heads bowed,.
            “Yes, their heads are bowed,” Mom said, “And this isn’t necessary a prayer meeting.”    
            She said, “Some of these people haven’t seen their mom and dad since they were eighteen years old, and it’s like David, which makes me feel sad.” 
             I told her that we visited David regularly, and she had too for years and years. 
            She said, “I really don’t like this place.  I’d like to go somewhere else.  Not necessarily home.” 
             I asked her what kind of a place she’d prefer, and she said, “Oh, I think just a regular high school.” 
            She told me never again to bring my big bag (Dress for Less at Ross) because it just shouted out wealth to people who might not have anything better than a paper bag. 
             “I used to have a paper bag,” I told her, referring to the paper bag I’d take to spend-the-night parties.
            Mom  thought that was what I should bring next time. 
            She pointed out a man in the group of the bowed heads not necessarily praying and said that he was a man who…and then she had trouble finding her words (perhaps through the haze of the medication; she’s usually pretty good with words)…He liked to show off his…”What’s a word for man?”  I suggested male. 
            “Yes, his male…vegetation.” 
            I suggested organs. 
            “Yes.  His balls.  The things that men have-- balls and a pistol.” 
            I suggested penis. 
             “Anyway,” mother said.  “All that stuff.”   
             Kathy later told me that a wife visiting her husband, who she felt sure was going to get better and come home, found her husband in bed with another woman at Aegis and was very upset because that hadn’t been her idea of his getting better. 
            Kathy said that former Justice Sandra Connor also found her Alzheimer husband, the one she gave up the Supreme Court for, in a relationship with another woman and at first was too quick to pass judgment but later decided that he was someone else, so why shouldn’t the woman he was with be someone else too?  And he was happy.  But the wife Dee had to deal with wasn’t so easily comforted.       Mom says she doesn’t want to report the man who shows his male vegetation because she feels sorry for him, and that seemed to be the mood she was in today during the time I was with her—not afraid that anyone would kill her, not obsessed with her BMs, not confessing to or admitting any crimes (other than the one she’d put into writing), but just concerned about making the already forlorn more forlorn.
                When I directed her attention to Contrary to Popular Belief, Mom said, “Let’s find some to bend their tortured minds to someone else’s torture,” which wasn’t quite what I was hoping for. 
            We read a couple, and Mom had some problem with the word onomatopoeia and read about the Tower of Babel a couple of times.  Then Ada came by and asked me whether I could take her (Ada) out to walk. 
            I’d already suggested that to Mom a couple of times, and she said, “No, don’t you see?  You have to be very, very careful because they can’t go out.  How do you think they feel?  And I have to be with them when you’re not here, so I don’t want to do anything to upset them.”    
            When Ada asked and I said, “Let’s all go,” Mom said she was too tired, but then she said “All right” to Ada and crossed her eyes at me, and we passed the bathroom (“And I’ll bet that you’ve used the bathroom,” Mom said to me with a tone of resentment like the ones she’s afraid others will feel about her privileged status) and went outdoors to the beautiful garden, where Ada took off her shoes and socks and walked in the grass, put them back on, and then said, “Sometimes I think I’d like to take off my shoes and socks and just walk in the grass.  Wouldn’t that be crazy?” 
            Kathy joined us in the garden, and she and Mom sat on a bench and admired the cloud formations the way we did on the way over to the University of Davis Alzheimer’s Center in Martinez on March 1. 
            I told Mom I’d be back on Sunday with Javier, and she said, “Maybe you shouldn’t bring him.  Other people don’t have someone like him coming in to visit them.  How do you think that makes them feel?” 
            But I know Javier can be charming enough to meet everybody’s needs, and I did try to tell Mom a couple of times that the people with the bowed heads really aren’t very much aware of what we’re doing. 
             “You’re being recorded,”  she said,” and when I laughed at a little stuffed hippo on a chair nearby, she said, “Don’t laugh.  It might be someone’s mother, for all you know.”
                All in all, I think it was a pretty good visit, but definitely not the best.  She didn’t seem tortured.  She just seemed to be struggling, which is so much better.  She was struggling to keep the peace and find the words to explain it all to me. 
                Kathy and I had the chance to talk after we were dismissed, so I’ll let her elaborate on that—on what Kay’s family is saying about Kay’s needs and how they go about making a decision about when and where a resident will go.  But they say that Mom is NOT in danger of being expelled or even suspended from this not-quite-regular high school she’s in.

                Love,
                Tina

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