Well, this experience certainly is interesting...and definitely has
its ups and downs.
When we last left our intrepid heroine, she was happily relaxing in
her new home, and said she was going to take her time unpacking boxes so that she could
truly make this apartment hers. She was going to go to get breakfast at 7:30 and
would see us for brunch at 11:30.
Sounded great. I came home and slept like a log all night.
This morning I gave her time to get her breakfast and then showed up
at about 8:30, newspapers in hand. I could not believe it when she opened the door.
Her face was flushed like she had been crying. There wasn't a light on in the
house, all the curtains were closed and she was shaking. "Oh, thank goodness
it's you," she said. "I just didn't know what to do."
Poor thing. I felt so sorry for her. She hadn't been to
breakfast because she didn't know where to go or even which way to turn when she left the
apartment. She said she had lost the call button that they gave her when she came in
(the local Life Line) which she was supposed to wear around her neck at all times but it
wasn't there and she didn't remember where she put it. She hadn't had anything to
eat since breakfast yesterday, she said (I knew THAT was wrong, since we all had burritos
around 3:30). She just seemed so terribly helpless and lost.
I turned on the lights and gave her her newspapers. I took her
out to the front lobby and showed her where she could get coffee and some pastry and we
came back and talked. We did an in-depth search for her Life Line, which had just disappeared.
After a frantic search, it was found -- around her neck. Crisis averted.
When her coffee was gone, she went by herself back to the front lobby
to get more. I considered that a major break-through and I decided NOT to put an
arrow on the door pointing in the right direction.
Walt came and took her empty boxes to the dumpster. The three
of us went to their brunch. I let her take the lead and did not point her where she
should go. She managed to find the dining room all right. It was kind of
interesting. They advertise a carvery station, Belgium [sic] waffles and mimosas,
none of which were visible, or offered, but we did have a lovely breakfast.
They had fabulous fried shrimp which was crisp, not soggy, as you would expect from
being in a warmer. Also, the eggs benedict had runny yolks, which I never
find in warming trays. I would have liked a Belgian waffle, but didn't see where I
could order one.
A little lady came and sat with us and, I have to tell ya, she made
my mother seem like a Rhodes scholar. I think it also gave my mother an ego boost to
discover that this was one of her fellow residents. It's always nice to find someone
more confused than you are! I don't know how long she has been at Covell Gardens.
She did tell us in one of her more lucid moments that she hasn't been there long, but she
has lived in Davis longer than Walt and I have (and we've been here nearly 40 years).
I reminded my mother about her "date" with Ron, the
ambassador tonight. She had totally forgotten that, but I hope she remembers long
enough to "put on her face," which she said she would have to do.
She still thinks she's going to walk to my house to pick up her car
from time to time. I just let that pass without comment.
We were going to go shopping for some supplies, like shelf paper, a
garbage can and other things that could freshen up the place, but when I asked if she'd
rather do that today or tomorrow, she said tomorrow. She said she had "all the
time in the world" to get settled. And to my utter amazement she said she can
hardly remember "that other place" where she had lived. When our breakfast
companion asked where she had come from, my mother looked at me blankly and said
"Bev, where did I come from again?" She had unpacked her shoes and put
them away without a single comment about shoe choices, and most amazing of all, she said
that maybe after three weeks or so, when she had her apartment all
straightened out, we could go back to her other place and stay the night and get some
cleaning done. I tried not to express shock at that statement, given that she was
adamant yesterday about going TODAY to clean it all up.
She also said that she didn't understand why the movers had gotten
lost trying to find her house yesterday when it plainly says "260" on her
mailbox and on her house. Only 260 is not her house number. I didn't mention
that she had forgotten her address!
Of course, I know full well that she could totally change tomorrow
and demand to be taken "home". I am avoiding saying "home" at
all with regard to Terra Linda, but just calling it "Terra Linda." There
are a couple of vital things I forgot to take, like the charger for her cell phone (tho if
I can get her land line installed this week, that won't be a problem) and her address
book. If I think of a couple of other things, I might drive back there without her
and pick them up, but hopefully I can just have Ed bring them.
When we left around 1:30, I told her I would go to Peet's and get her
some coffee so she can make her own tomorrow. I did, and by the time I got back to
the apartment, she was asleep on the couch, so I just left the coffee on the counter and
let myself out quietly.
I'm looking forward to getting a report on her "date"
tonight and whether she meets new people, so I'm having breakfast with her tomorrow
morning. I think I'm going to take her to see The Great Gatsby on
Wednesday. It's playing in town and it seems to be the sort of movie she would
really like.
1 comment:
Bev, your running commentary on this subject is as good as, if not better than, anything I've read about elder care. Of course, you mother is an excellent subject!
I do hope you're planning to compile these posts for publication.
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