Scenes From Unit 5AB
Mutterings And Murmurs . Social Studies
I saw a new resident the other day. I didn’t know her name. Residents are deposited and linger and then they are gone. Jesse died the other day. At one mealtime I saw a new resident straining up from her reclining wheelchair, trying to cut her spoon with a knife and fork. She somehow knew that it was suppertime but the food wasn’t served yet. She went through the motions of doing for herself. She wanted to regain and relive some memory of independence and dignity.
From Hans: “I can hear ze fuckin cows!” “I see zem coming!” Hans is always hunched over in his wheelchair. His nose drips continuously onto his bib, his plate and the table. He only eats sandwiches. I can see him look over from his table when I speak German to mom. Han does not respond when I try speaking German with him. He receives no visitors.
From Beverly: “There was a family that was pretty much all Georges” “While you were trying to get a hold of your sister, did you have any luck?” “I had a duck once”…whataya think of that story?” “Whataya think his name is?” “I have a loving heart?” Some of the residents that are still aware enough to be annoyed will yell at her to be quiet. She can go on. Bless her heart.
From Linda: “I’m going home today, my daughters’ ‘coming.” She tells me this every time I visit. She puts on make-up and has her hair done. She sits at my mom’s table during meals and tells what she remembers of her younger life in Hay River. Alberta. She sometimes shares some pictures of her younger self and her bastard dead husband. She tells me that her daughter took all of her money.
There is a gritty and slimy fine line between substandard elder care and elder abuse. My dead to me now brothers and someone that claims to be a dear friend regularly enabled alcohol use with my mother even after she was officially diagnosed with dementia…as long as she paid. A great plan if you want to take her to a lawyer to have her will changed and have yourselves given power of attorney to enhance the financial elder abuse…and to place her in a lower cost facility so you can more effectively drain her savings – and before mom was institutionalized, if only for the price of shoelaces or lunch or gas, or some groceries because they ‘forgot’ their wallet. All of her valuables have been expropriated during her transition. Her bank accounts have been raided out of some sense of entitlement, as if she owed them, dwindled to her monthly pension that will cover her substandard care. They are spiritually and morally dead monsters. It’s doubtful this part of ‘the family’ will even have the integrity or moral fortitude to look after each other when they need help. Let Karma do what it sees fit. There might be something said about the dehumanizing, de-empathizing effects of DNA altering MRNA ‘therapy’ or the noted changes in personality they cause but this greedy elder abuse mentality existed in these creatures long before the pandemic of international concern took hold of so many.
There is not much more I can do for my mother as she winds down to the end, besides being there and acknowledging her existence and honoring her memory and experience and the sacrifices she has had to make in her life. She still likes to play peek-a-boo. It is a blessing of sorts that she cannot express her painful memories of the past or verbalize any current discomfort or loss of dignity or comment on the state of the world. Of course it would be improper to think or say aloud that I hope mom would soon go in peace. This is no life for her but this is not for me to determine. Perhaps the reality of decline and death is to test the living on their level of humanity and to remind them, if at all possible, that we are all human until we die. Failing grades in this test are sadly too common. Where are the good humans? They seem in short supply these days.
I am not sure of the origin but this guide should be printed and posted in every care home and in hospitals where there are patients with dementia.
If I get dementia, I’d like my family to hang this wish list up on the wall where I live. I want them to remember these things.
1. If I get dementia, I want my friends and family to embrace my reality.
2. If I think my spouse is still alive, or if I think we’re visiting my parents for dinner, let me believe those things. I’ll be much happier for it.
3. If I get dementia, don’t argue with me about what is true for me versus what is true for you.
4. If I get dementia, and I am not sure who you are, do not take it personally. My timeline is confusing to me.
5. If I get dementia, and can no longer use utensils, do not start feeding me. Instead, switch me to a finger-food diet, and see if I can still feed myself.
6. If I get dementia, and I am sad or anxious, hold my hand and listen. Do not tell me that my feelings are unfounded.
7. If I get dementia, I don’t want to be treated like a child. Talk to me like the adult that I am.
8. If I get dementia, I still want to enjoy the things that I’ve always enjoyed. Help me find a way to exercise, read, and visit with friends.
9. If I get dementia, ask me to tell you a story from my past.
10. If I get dementia, and I become agitated, take the time to figure out what is bothering me.
11. If I get dementia, treat me the way that you would want to be treated.
12. If I get dementia, make sure that there are plenty of snacks for me in the house. Even now if I don’t eat I get angry, and if I have dementia, I may have trouble explaining what I need.
13. If I get dementia, don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.
14. If I get dementia, don’t feel guilty if you cannot care for me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s not your fault, and you’ve done your best. Find someone who can help you, or choose a great new place for me to live.
15. If I get dementia, and I live in a dementia care community, please visit me often.
16. If I get dementia, don’t act frustrated if I mix up names, events, or places. Take a deep breath. It’s not my fault.
17. If I get dementia, make sure I always have my favorite music playing within earshot.
18. If I get dementia, and I like to pick up items and carry them around, help me return those items to their original place.
19. If I get dementia, don’t exclude me from parties and family gatherings.
20. If I get dementia, know that I still like receiving hugs or handshakes.
21. If I get dementia, remember that I am still the person you know and love.”
Of course I’d rather dispose of myself before dementia takes me beyond being able to take care of myself or make decisions about my future. My body, my choice – that sort of thing. I would rather not die in bed or slumped over in a wheelchair and preferably with little or no pain and with some awesome music, some ‘This Will Destroy You’ in the background. Perhaps it will happen on a sunset mountain road somewhere – on two wheels instead of four.
Bliss.
Peace.
See ya.
Who the hell are you?
Oh yeah!
Hello.
Leave a Reply