Away From Her

Everything changes when I miss a week on the Memory Care Unit. Last week's contagious cold left me thinking a visit was not in anyone's best interest, so I opted out and slept instead. Meanwhile, one of my very favorite gals, Leola, moved to another unit. Like other times, I had the uncomfortable task of asking where Leola was tonight, uncomfortable because I always fear the worst. Thankfully, she is still alive, but sadly, she has been moved to a unit for people who need to be assisted physically more than on my ward. I always thought Leola was one of the physical oxen on 2-South, but I guess strength is in the eye of the beholder because she's gone. I'll never forget the day she called out my full name from at least seven feet away, something that hasn't happened before or since on the Memory Care Unit. "Hey, Deb Ellis, I like your outfit," she let me know. It took me a second to realize she was reading my little name tag, and without glasses! I guess her eyes were strong but her limbs weak. I'm going to miss Leola.

It was a tough night on the unit, almost as if it were a full moon or something weird like that. Both Gudrun and Mary couldn't keep their eyes open and Mary wasn't wearing her teeth so her chin stuck out like a witch's and I spilled her protein shake down the front of her bright red track suit while trying to feed her with her head lolling backwards. When the nurse came around to record how much each resident had eaten, I told him he was going to fire me as a volunteer because I'd failed so miserably to feed my charges. He assured me it was okay, that they don't always eat much, but I couldn't help but feel guilty about my already too-skinny elderly friends. At least Bernice was having a good night, taking my good natured kidding in stride and giving it right back.

There's a new woman on the unit, her name is Karen. She's the youngest, prettiest gal I've seen there and I wanted to cry when she showed up at the dinner table with a man who I would guess is her husband from the kiss goodbye he gave her. Karen doesn't look a day over sixty, and she might be younger, but there she was on the dementia unit. Her husband left her there to eat and she sat next to Anita, the only spot available at the time. Karen looked uncomfortable and scared and like she'd rather be anywhere but there. You'd think everyone looks like that there, but they don't. They're either beyond being able to feel the tangible discomfort of life on a Memory Care Unit anymore or they've resigned themselves to their fate, only complaining infrequently that they want to go home. But Karen looked like a little girl at her first sleepover, frightened and shy and wanting her mommy. She reminded me of Julie Christie in the Oscar-winning movie, "Away From Her." In the movie, Christie's character is a victim of early-onset Alzheimer's and struggles between wanting to stay home with her husband and knowing she's a hazard there to him and to herself. She looks lost at the nursing home she chooses to go to, just like Karen did tonight. It's heartbreaking. I hope Karen settles in sooner than later and can relinquish some of the fear that fills her eyes.