"People Will Gossip...They'll Say 'Nay Has a New Conquest.'"

{The same day I wrote to the journalist, September 20, 2011, I also wrote to Suzy, Kathy, and Jonathan about Mom but couldn’t get the letter out because I couldn’t open Outlook.  This was after a hosting a gathering of City College’s Returned Peace Corps Volunteers, celebrating the 50^th Anniversary of the Peace Corps.}

Here it is:

Hi~

                Mom was a bit better today though not at her best.  I picked up a chocolate milk shake for her at Jack in the Box on Contra Costa and also had the remains of the Peace Corps cake from Sunday, so she ate well, starting with the frosting scooped up with her finger tips and going to the cake itself with a fork.   Franz joined us.  The napkins they gave us matched Mom’s blouse.  Mother ate the piece of cake and the whole milk shake minus what I’d stolen on my way there. 

            Franz was pleasant but concerned.  He looked at the floral pattern on the napkin and said, “There’s a place where this begins.”  A couple of minutes later he asked me “What do you think about things?” 

            I said it was sure a beautiful day, and weren’t the flowers (this time pointing to the ones in the vase, not the ones on the napkin where there’s a place where this begins), and he said, “Yes, but what I’ve seen!” 

            Mom and I asked, “What?” and he said, “All that stuff is…loose,” and he made an expansive gesture showing how far looseness can go.  But he wanted a second piece of cake and got one.

                Mom had a cold.  I quoted that saying that if you take care of a cold, it lasts two weeks, and if you don’t take care of it, it lasts fourteen days, and she said, “That’s funny!” 

            Both she and Franz felt they should clean up the table and did. 

            Before we cut the cake into pieces, I showed Mom the Peace Corps symbol and asked, “Do you remember when I first heard about the Peace Corps and said, ‘That’s what I want to do’?”  Mom said, “Yes, and you did it.  And guess who visited you.” 

                I said, “You and Kathy visited me in Algeria.”

                Mom said, “No, Kathy didn’t go.”

                As usual I suggested that we go out to the garden.  Mom said, “No.  That’s not in my…portfolio today.” 

            She mentioned the toilet but without the usual anxiety.  It was as if only from force of habit.  She said she was tired, and I thought it would be nice to lie down, but Kay was in the room.  I was so surprised because I was just certain that once they said she was getting a roommate, it would be a fait accomplis.  (Just joking.  How long have we been asking?)

                She told me that she wanted to get a perm.  “I haven’t had a perm for about two years.”  She told me there was a place where Kathy had her hair done, and I told Mom there was a place just upstairs, and I offered to take her.  She might have gone, but as we passed from the dining room into the hall (where Mom said, “I don’t go here”) on our way to the door, Sylvia directed her walker to the door, and I knew we couldn’t go out while Sylvia was there, so we held back, and Sylvia set off the alarm. 

            Mom and I sat down in the little room between the TV area and the alarming door and I put my arms around her and told her I loved her, and she said, “People will come by and say, ‘There are two gay women.’” 

            I told her that was all right.  They could say that if they wanted. 

             Mom said, mimicking people,  “'Nay has a new conquest.’” 

            Later she said, “People will gossip.  They’ll say ‘Is the mother taking care of the daughter or is the daughter taking care of the mother.’”

            An aide whose name I’ve forgotten—Roger?  Something with an R?—came by and greeted Mom and asked whether he could get her anything.  She said no, that she was going to be going home shortly.  I asked about getting her a perm, and he said I could discuss that with the person at the desk.  I asked Mom whether she’d like to go with me, and she said, “No.  I think I’d like you to be my….secret emissary.”   

            After I’d been there about forty minutes, Mom suggested very gently that I go but that I could come back another time. 

                On my way out I forgot that I was supposed to be the secret emissary to make the appointment for her perm, so that mission hasn’t been accomplished.

                Tomorrow is Wear Purple day for Alzheimer’s.  I hope I don’t forget.  Maybe I’ll lay things out now.  

                Did you see the article in Sunday’s Chronicle on a Chronicle staff writer  whose father’s situation is somewhat parallel to Mom’s?  I’ll send you the link.

                Love,

                Tina

PS  I made no headway into taking Mom into the room that’s reserved for her birthday.  It was closed, which is unusual, and of course Mom didn’t really want to go out into that frightening hall if her secret emissary could do it for her.