The smile

Here's the smile that people used to talk about. It was the first warm, sunny day this past spring. Carmen took the ladies out on the terrace, facing into the forest preserve. Derby Day was approaching, which inspired Carmen to break out her collection of floppy hats and sunglasses. Everyone was in such good spirits that day, and they inspired me to take a picture. I'm glad I did.  

Troublesome

A note came to me last Saturday. On Sunday, another one. Two people with essentially the same worry: haven't seen anything on your blog for two months, what's going on?

The simple truth was, there hasn't been much to write about. Whenever I visited May, she would greet me with a huge smile and we would walk around the grounds for a while. Staff people would pass us and say, "There's that smile" and they would smile in return. It was a smile-fest. That's basically how it was when I visited last Saturday and again on Monday. But yesterday, Friday, it was not like that at all.

She was seated at her place in the dining room, waiting for lunch that was still 20 minutes away from being served. There was no smile when she saw me. She made a move to get up, but seemed to struggle. I walked her out into the hallway and she was heavy and sluggish in her movements, and bent forward at the waist. She whispered, "These people don't like me." As we walked the central corridor, she mumbled that she didn't "know what to do." And then, "No one can help me." She started to cry. A few steps later, she stopped walking, put her head down, and let the tears flow. A staff person came along and asked what was wrong. "Where's my mom," she asked. The food cart passed us by, so I walked her back to the dining room. Nicole, who runs May's wing, looked at her and said "What are those tears?" May answered, "Where's my grandma?"

The words were coming out differently--slower, flatter, barely audible. Her posture was different--pitched forward, no swivel to her head, as if she could not look to either side. The mood was desperate.

A few weeks ago, while cleaning out all the hats and gloves that had piled up over time on the shelves by the back door, I came across a cap that stopped me in my tracks. She used to hold it up and say, "I just love this cap." Yesterday was the day I finally remembered to take it to her. I asked if she remembered it and she said, "Yes." She put it on her head and I asked if it still fit and she said, "Yes." There was almost a smile, but not quite.

I went back again this morning to see if yesterday was an outlier or the beginning of something. She didn't cry, but her condition was only marginally better. We walked outside, and then I took her back in for lunch. She seemed confused about where she was, but she sat down when I asked her to. At this point, she usually says, "When will I see you again?" Today she just stared at my face in silence.

On the way out, I buttonholed Max, the activities director. "How long has his been going on," I asked. "It started this week," he said. "She still comes to every activity, but I can't get her to engage. There's no energy in her voice or her body language. That forward lean is new. Mentally, it's like she's trying to figure something out, she can't get an answer, and it frustrates her."

For me, it was if Max knew the answer, and didn't want to tell me.

When I first started going there last November, a woman named Arlene used to walk the halls saying "Where's my mother?" A few months later she would lurch along saying, "Food ... food ... I need food." Now I don't see her anymore.

I gave my leave to Max and turned toward the door to the lobby.

"The cap," he said, "where'd the cap come from? She won't take it off."

Earl news

I stopped in to see May today and everyone was out on the patio, taking in our first day over 60 degrees in a while. May was sitting on one bench with Eleanor, and Earl was sitting on another bench with Paul. Carmen, the afternoon activities staff person, looked at me and said, "She tells Earl, 'I have a HUSBAND!' She gets mad and walks out of the room. Been doing that for three or four days."

Earl was glaring at Carmen. For some reason, she pointed to me and said, "That's her husband!" I think she wanted to see a rumble.

Behavior change

I haven't been writing much lately -- mostly because we've been in the longest period of stasis I can remember since this whole deal started about six years ago. That still seemed to be the case when I visited her this afternoon. She smiled and laughed. But I was summoned to the nurse's office and asked to okay a new medication. The nurses looked worried. They said May has been attacking the staff. When I asked what that meant, one of them said, "Like she turns into Mike Tyson." I asked how she was at night and they looked at the night nurse -- she said it happened at night too. It's a form of anxiety, they said, like she wants to get out of her skin. They're going to try an anti-anxiety drug. Several of the residents are on this same med, they said, but the look on their faces was not reassuring.

Earl

It's been coming on for a while.

Whenever I would visit during a group activity, May and Earl would be sitting together. May would greet me enthusiastically, but Earl would look jilted. If we went for a walk, Earl would soon catch up with us. On the last few visits, I noticed that the staff would spring into action, as if to protect me from the truth. "Come on, Earl," they would say when they saw me coming. "Come with me, Earl." Earl never wanted to go. I felt bad for him, and would always try to include him.

Today when I got there, May was nowhere to be found. The staff flitted around nervously. I told them to relax, that I was sure I could find her. But she was in none of the usual places. Carmen, who runs the afternoon activities, offered to help. I said, "You don't suppose she ran off with Earl, do you?" Carmen looked at me seriously and said, "How do you feel about that?" I told her I was fine with it. "Come on then..." she said and made a beeline for the residential wing that Earl lives on. I told her I didn't want to walk in on anything...

She insisted that I follow her. We got to the living area of Earl's wing just as Earl was coming out of the bathroom. May was at the dining room table waiting for him. She was glad to see me and headed back to her end of the building with me. I felt bad for Earl again, but it didn't take long for him to catch up with us. When May saw him coming she whispered, "That's my guy..." We were a threesome for afternoon BINGO.

So it's all out in the open now. The staff seems relieved. It must have been really hard on them, the coverup and all...

Unwanted attention

She stopped me on our walk today and pointed toward the Foosball table. "Wait," she said, "I need to tell you this -- one of those guys thinks I'm cute, and I don't want to have anything to do with that." She put her hands out as if to ward off something bad, and stepped away from the table.

"One of the Foosball players thinks you're cute?" I asked. She nodded yes, and made a face.

"Well you are cute, but you don't need that kind of attention from a Foosball player?"

She shook her head, like no possible good could come from that.

Bogart & Bergman

I was telling her goodbye, and that I would be back. "Not tomorrow, but soon..."

She interrupted to say: "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but, uh..."

Amazing. With all that has been lost, the script of Casablanca is still in there!