Mima has been in a skilled nursing facility for two years now. She can no longer walk, but her mind is still quite sharp - what I always felt would be the worst way to spend one's golden years. My mother-in-law had her health, but suffered from Parkinson's Disease and Alzheimer's. If I had my druthers, if I would become infirm, I think I'd like to lose my mind. DH would say I'm already there. Ah, but I digress. While it isn't far from our house, I set Sunday afternoon aside to spend some quality time with her.
This does not come without some modicum of stress. Some people refer to this as being in the middle - elderly parents on one hand and children still living at home on the other. I call it skirting the edge, mostly because of the dance that goes along with this position.
Getting ready for the visit requires a checklist. Clean laundry; snacks; sausage biscuits (because we don't like the breakfast food they serve, except for pancake day and one other meal), and other assorted items she might call me about during the week.
There are visits that go quite well - we sit and laugh, which is the best medicine ever. I gather up the books she gets from the library through the Blind Association to mail back; water the plants (no, I forgot to bring plant food again); put away the freshly washed laundry; take the few nightshirts she's worn through the week to wash.
Then, there are the visits that don't go quite so well, depending on how her week has gone. If she's had the Agency Aides, hell might as well open the gates and swallow us whole. Those are the days where she quite adroitly points out every flaw of my pitiful existence - to the point where I wonder how I managed to get out of bed and dress myself.
But, I'm getting smarter.
A few weeks ago I brought some new night shirts with cute little sheep and other witticisms. Best thing ever. Today I forgot the puffed corn snack, but brought her some Chinese food - General Tso chicken and rice, to be exact. She even dusted off the pedestal before my climb. If I come bearing presents, life is good. It's very good.
Since I forgot the popcorn, she asked if I would go to the cafe to see if they had any. Ahead of me was an older woman in a wheelchair, headed for the doors. There was no way I would get there before her, and then - the alarm. Some of the inmates wear a bracelet that sets off the alarms if they get too close to the doors. When the alarm goes off, the doors lock. There was no getting out for anyone. The nurse came along, saying, "Sorry - she's been in a weird mood today." She took hold of the handles and pulled her back along the hallway. The older woman glared at me, and unable to actually verbalize what she wanted to say, her vocalization said it all. In a few seconds the doors unlocked, and I was able to continue on the search for popcorn. The trip was unsuccessful.
On my way back to Mima's room, I had to pass the woman in the wheelchair, who had been planted next to the nurse's station, now armed with a roll of small trash can liners. She fixed her gaze on me as I passed, and swatted at me with the roll of plastic in her hand. "I didn't do anything!" I said with a laugh, sidestepping to avoid being hit. An hour later, when I was leaving, she stopped eating long enough vocalize her displeasure at me. I'm certain if she could still speak, she would have unleashed a torrent of swear words. I couldn't help wondering if I hadn't worn the lime green t-shirt...
Guess I'll never know. Just goes to show, if one elder isn't yelling at me, there's sure to be another who will. Dancing on the edge, baby.
You're always welcome at the pool, especially if you want to join me in the dance!
