4:42 p.m. - 2009-10-06
Who's on First?
This is the third time I've started this entry. I don't know what is wrong with my computer but it's got a mind of its own, putting type where it isn't supposed to go and deleting. I fear it's not long for this world. I can assure you the former entries were much better but I'm going to at least document some of the ideas I had in the two former posts...
Every visit to the nursing home gets more and more entertaining. It didn't start out that way. When we arrived, we found Gigi in the hallway head in hands. She was crying. She looked up at us with teary eyes and said "I can't find ANYONE to take me home". "This is the last damn night I'm staying in this hotel." It breaks my heart to see her that way, knowing there's nothing I can do to help her achieve this thing that she wants more than anything in the world.
We wheeled her over to where we were sitting, a white wicker loveseat covered with a cheery tropical fabric. Beside us was a birdcage with two adorable finches inside. "I want one of those," she said, "Whenever I can find out how much they are." "Do you think they're expensive?"
We assured her they were VERY expensive. She had a little bird at the Riviera, but she's long since passed the point where she could take care of herself, much less another living creature.
"Do you remember Bill?" she asked. Of COURSE we remembered Bill. She was crazy about him when she lived at the Riviera. He had quite a few admirers! She was almost embarassing at times, acting like a schoolgirl alternating with being vile because she saw that "redheaded woman" at his room.
She pointed to a man, slumped in his wheelchair snoozing. It was definitely NOT Bill.
"That's him." she said. "He used to look pretty good a year or so ago, but he isn't looking so good now."
"That's because he ISN'T Bill!" Diana said.
"The hell he isn't!" she snapped.
She pushed herself slowly over to him, and bumped into his wheelchair startling him from his sleep.
"That's my oldest granddaughter over there, come to see me, and her friend" she told him. Before long, he followed her over to where we sat and we began to try and bring him into the conversation.
"Where are you from?" Diana asked.
"WHAT?"
"Where are you from?"
"Where am I from?" His face twisted up a little, and his brain was struggling for some answer, any answer, but nothing would come. "Now you've really got me puzzled" he said.
Diana tried even the simplest of questions, desperately trying to bring him into the discussion.
"How old are you?"
"WHAT?"
"How old are you?"
"How old am I? (long pause...no response....)
"Yeah, when were you born?" Diana continued.
"Well how in the hell am I supposed to know that?" Lawrence replied.
It was useless. And he smelled really bad, like he'd had an accident, plus he was spitting and drooling. It was most unpleasant. We finally broke the conversation up and he moved his chair into the hallway of the room across from us.
"GET OUT OF MY DOORWAY, YOU STUPID SO-AND-SO" the woman in the room shouted. He jumped and looked at Diana thinking SHE had said it. We directed him to move slightly away from the doorway in an attempt to bring peace to the situation.
I couldn't stay but an hour. It was more than I could take this week. I even broke up so bad at the beginning watching Bill/Lawrence try and get an answer for us while Diana would look back at me with bulging eyes and a look that just totally cracked me up. There was no holding back. And when we both began to laugh, Gigi joined in and we all three were uncontrollably chuckling. She had no idea what the joke was, but she was delighted to be a part of the reaction.
I don't want to be there. Give me a pill, a shot, shoot me, whatever it takes. I don't want to die a slow death sitting in a wheelchair. I can't imagine what her day must be like. She doesn't watch tv. She isn't sociable. Her whole existance is sleeping, eating, and an occasional visit from one of us. And sitting in that wheelchair, day after day. Mom doesn't go nearly as much as I'd like for her to go. That was her whole thing about putting her in Flagler Pines. Gigi would be "right on the way" for her to visit every day. I really believe that she's praying that each day will be Gigi's last and she can be relieved of the burden she's been going through trying to arrange medicaid, work through all the nursing home stuff. I can't be too angry with her though. I've thought more than once that it would be so much easier for everyone if she just slipped away. She has no joy, no life. Just the wheelchair, and the man she thinks is Bill.....Lawrence. I guess I should be glad she at least has that much....
Please God....don't let me be there.
