Faithfully Frazzled

I have to write about this now or it will be lost to the chasm that is my ADHD brain. It’s 7:35 as I begin writing and these events took place over two hours ago but I just know I will treasure this evening for a long time to come. I think I’ll start by asking my readers (all twelve of you 😝), have you ever had your heart so massively filled up that it broke in two? Well, this is precisely what happened to me tonight and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Around 2 PM this afternoon I headed over to The Inn at Bear Trail, the nursing home we settled my mother into in November. I had taken my eldest, Nina, to church where she was to teach church school to the 2-5 year olds, no mean feat. Nina has found herself actually enjoying this endeavor which, in itself is a minor miracle. Up until a year and a half ago she was intent on being a graphic designer – something she’d pursued even in high school in a special vocational program. She gave herself over to the cartooning world and even pursued a degree in it at a small art and design school in nearby Dayton until things became too fraught for my high-functioning autistic daughter to handle. In truth, art school is hard on those nowhere near the autism spectrum so she ended up returning home and began studies at a local community college. It’s been a tumultuous ride but she’s really found herself since switching to Early Childhood Education, something we never saw coming. She’s realized that she has a natural way with little children and enjoys coming up with lessons to teach them about their faith. Today I observed her teaching for the first time and I was still riding that high when I got to the Inn this afternoon to see my mom.

I hadn’t been to see her in 2 1/2 days which in dementia-time could feel like a decade. I hate to leave my mom alone but I’ve realized that I have to be kinder to myself and not spend every ounce of energy taking care of her. I still have two daughters with special needs that rely on me and, not for nothing, I have pretty tenuous health myself so I have to approach everyday life more gently than I used to. Regardless, missing a couple days of being with mom weighed on me so I was excited to see her. Since the decline, or rather the uptick, in mom’s dementia she has been exceedingly fixated on me and my presence. Anytime I’ve left her, whether in the hospital or nursing home, she’s been very vocal about her disappointment with me. I realize it’s the disease talking but as a devoted daughter it definitely still stings.

When I walked in mom’s room I was happy to two of her oldest friends sitting with her. They are friends from her and my dad’s seminary days and had not seen mom in quite some time. They were busy chatting about the old days when Nancy and mom were in Capital University’s Chapel Choir touring places like Japan, Taiwan, and China. Nancy’s husband Phil was best friends with my dad in seminary so the ties with these three were palpable. They knew me as a newly-adopted baby in South Carolina. Friends who are family, essentially. Even though mom was not always coherent the love and the laughter were still there. Pastor Phil who is now wheelchair bound asked if he could say a benediction over mom so we all grabbed hands around her behemoth of a recliner and bowed our heads. Pastor Phil started praying in his shaky 83 year old voice,

“The Lord bless you and keep you.

The Lord make his face shine on you and be gra…..”. His voice trailed off as he began to sob. Nancy looked at me and said, “it’s ok. This happens a lot after his stroke.” I chimed in, “The Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you.” Pastor Phil continued,

“The Lord look upon you with favor and g……”, he sputtered. “…look upon you with favor and give you peace”, I finished. I was standing over him in his wheelchair and leaned down to squeeze him and give him a peck on the head. Mom was I tears too so I went over and kissed her head too. Nancy and I just smiled at each other. After they said their goodbyes I walked them halfway out through the maze of corridors and we chatted about mom’s condition. They were heartily sorry to see how much she’s deteriorated recently but assured me we’d done the right thing by finding her an excellent home such as the Inn. Oof. You don’t need validation until you get it.

I walked back to mom’s room feeling lighter than I had I awhile. I’ve been spending so much time at the Inn that I’ve gotten to know some of the residents, if not by name then by face. I try to have a smile on my face the majority of the time because, even though this is one of the warmest and friendliest care homes I’ve been in there’s still an atmosphere of sadness that pervades. As I passed by mom’s neighbor, Shirley, in the hallway I greeted her by name and she recognized me – not always a given in Memory Care – and she gave me the biggest smile. She thanked me for my smile and told me how pretty it was. Not gonna lie, I needed that. I went back to mom’s room and told her it was getting close to dinner time and I would stay with her for that.

Mom tends to attract lots of different types of people but there’s one type in particular that really get attached to her. They’re the people with, shall we say, questionable social skills. Maybe at one time in their life they were more adept at having boundaries but in their declining years have lost that ability. One such woman, we’ll call M, latched onto mom from the get-go and has to be constantly reminded that she and my mom are not related in any way and she cannot just barge into mom’s room at all hours of the day. Lord, have mercy! I bring up M because from the first day we went to the dining room for dinner mom has been seated at one particular table. I have gotten to know all the ladies at the table as best I can given their varying levels of dementia. Unfortunately, M is also seated at this table so today in a fortuitous event the path to mom’s table was blocked and I asked the two ladies at a four-person table if we could sit with them. They were delighted and said not to worry about the two regular diners that usually ate with them. “We’re tired of talking to them. You sit here and don’t worry about them”, one of the ladies said. I should’ve known better. No sooner had we sat down then the regulars showed up. I apologized and asked if we could sit there just for tonight. They were so very sweet but insisted we could all fit around this table so we all squeezed in together. You don’t mess with status quo at the Memory Care dinner table!

Mom was really out of it and not speaking much so I started asking the names of all the ladies. The lady to my right lives across the hallway from my mom and I already knew her name was Joann which impressed her. 😅 One her right was Sally whom I’ve waved to many times but never formally met. Next to her was Carol and then her friend (also a resident) Nel, or Nelia. Nelia took one look at me and said, “You must be Italian!! Are you?!” I laughed and said, no but I gave her another guess. When I told her I’m half Indian, half white, she scowled and said, “Hm…I’m pretty sure you’re Italian.” I told her mom and I love Italy and that she’d even met Pope John Paul II a couple times. We had a good laugh about that. Not sure if they thought I was kidding or serious but no matter, we were having a good time.

We chatted amiably about all manner of things but things do tend to get quiet around the dementia dinner table. I asked them if they were all from Ohio and they went around the table telling me about their homelands. Miss Joann was from Denver, Colorado. She isn’t so sure about her former husband bringing her to Ohio but she guesses it’s ok. It’s supposedly an Eastern state but she said it doesn’t feel that way. Miss Sally is from Virginia where it’s nice and warm. Carol, a former athlete and probably the youngest resident, changed the subject because she was very concerned that I wasn’t eating. She kept getting up to ask the aides why they hadn’t given me food. We had the same conversation at least three times about my gluten allergy and that I was perfectly content to just sit with them. Didn’t stop Carol from fussing over me every two minutes. Joann and mom were shivering so I went back to the room to get two shawls. I put them around both their shoulders and Joann said, “I didn’t want to tell anyone I was cold” and I said, “Well, you already told me!” “I did?!” “You sure did Miss Joann so just warm yourself up!” You’d have thought I’d given her diamond earrings. Finally, Nel said she’s homegrown here in Columbus, Ohio. She seemed very proud of that fact. 🙂 Go Bucks!

The dining room plays music throughout the meals which, at first I found disconcerting but the longer I’ve spent there the more I realize it actually keeps the residents’ spirits bopping, figuratively and literally. One of the nurses of African descent came dancing over to the table while Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree played and made a big show of giving everyone their night time pills. To Miss Joann she said, I have two little baby pills for you. Can you keep them safe for me?” Joann popped them in her mouth with a mischievous grin and said, “I just ate those babies!” We all laughed. The nurse confused the heck out of my mom with her über chipper nature and sweet talked mom into taking her dreaded meds. This is a recurring theme in Memory Care. Why should we have to take pills? Why are there four pills and not three? Who keeps forcing me to take this poison, and so on, and so forth. These nurses are my heroes. As Nurse Happy Pants danced off one of the ladies from my mom’s usual table, Susie, came over as the song Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses played. We all remarked that we saw her subtly shaking her hips to the song and she proceeded to shake what the good Lord gave her, all four feet of her. Her toothless grin gives me life. Oooh boy…little old ladies getting down is good for the soul.

By this point mom was looking a little rough so I asked her if she wanted to head back to her room. Joann asked me a few times if she could keep the fleece shawl I put on her and I said, of course. I knew where she lived if I needed it. Another hearty laugh. Suddenly, she turned to me seriously, grabbed my hand and said, “When your mom passes I want you to hold on to that shawl and keep it close. You’re going to need it.” 😳 I had previously told her that it was a prayer shawl given to her in the hospital by a church friend. She looked me dead in the eyes as if to put a period on the sentence. I thanked her and collected mom from the table. I said my goodbyes to the ladies and waved to the ones at mom’s former table. As we walked off Sally who has walked her wheelchair away from the table and said it was so nice to meet me and in her very feeble voice said, “Elizabeth” and smiled. “I won’t forget you.” I blew her a kiss and wheeled mom back to her room stifling the sobs that were now rolling crocodile tears down my cheeks.

I should probably apologize and you’ve read this far hoping for some momentous story and all you got was this little vignette from an old folks home. I can’t adequately express how much beauty and sadness mingle in places such as these. It’s somehow at once heartbreaking and life-giving. Even at the end of these beautiful soul’s days there’s just so much life. I’m humbled to get to witness even a glimmer of their former glory. Praise God!