Something About Mary
The rehab that Mom was in is also a long-term care facility, housed in a different wing than rehab. All the wings met in a cross in the middle of the facility though, and there was a group of regulars that hung out in the intersection at the end of the day. I was often with Mom for dinner and long enough to put her to bed for the night, so I ran into these people almost every evening. At first I didn't say anything, but nodded to them. Then I started saying things like "excuse me" or "good evening".
There was one tiny lady in a wheelchair always holding a doll and stroking its hair. I commented one day on the doll's beautiful hair and suddenly I had a friend in Mary. She would always say "hi" or "drive carefully" or "good night" as I passed. I asked who her friend (the doll) was and was told that she was "my co-worker". One day, she was down my mother's wing and looking a bit distressed. I said hi to her as I passed, and she recognized me as a friend and said plaintively, "I'm LOST!" I turned her around so she could see the intersection and pointed out the sign there. She wasn't sure what she was looking at, so I offered to take her back down there. She said that was okay, her husband would be by soon to pick her up. Pretty sure there is no husband and that no one is picking her up.
There was another woman who used to roll into Mom's room on a regular basis, looking for her friend. I guess the friend was there before Mom and had been there a long time too. She was always a little embarrassed that she'd intruded and not remembered that her friend was gone, even with reassurances that it was okay.
The new place has its own characters. Diane greeted me the first time I walked through the doors. I told her that my mother was coming to live here and she was so pleased. I encounter her almost every time now. She repeats everything you say after the initial hello. Avis must have amazing calf muscles because she scoots herself around in her wheel chair very quickly. If it's late afternoon, she'll roll right up to me and ask me if I'm leaving. If I answer in the affirmative, she whispers "Run!" Madonna is in the room next to Mom's. She's always asking me if I can do something about the temperature in her room. "I'm so cold! Why is it so cold here?" It's not actually cold, but the thin skin and lack of bodily insulation on most of these people means they're all cold. The nurses and other staff, however, have to work in the 75 degree warmth that is this place. Any hotter and they'd melt (they're almost always moving). I tell Madonna to put on a sweater - that might help. She agrees and heads off to her room.
Today, I discovered my first kleptomaniac. I'd brought in a tumbler of water, my purse, and a bag with bandages in it. Mom was in the common room, so I pulled her to the back of the room to look at her toe and bandage it if needed. I set my stuff down on the table back there, and a red-sweatered woman, reached for my tumbler. I moved it out of reach, explaining that it was my water. Then she reached for a bag of mints my brother had just dropped off for Mom. Again, I retrieved it (and offered her a mint, which she didn't want). Her seeking hands went for the bandage bag. I lifted it away. She then grabbed Mom's empty water cup and began sucking on the straw, with no result. I let her have it until we decided to go to Mom's room, then asked for it back. She handed it over, no problem. In Mom's room, we went into the bathroom, leaving the doors to the room and the bathroom open. Here comes our friend, who headed straight to the dresser of clothes. I spotted her and said in a deep authoritive voice "Excuse me. You need to leave now." She froze, then said "I need to leave now" and went back out the door. I closed it behind her.
There's always at least one of those. The rooms are locked when the residents aren't in there to prevent just this kind of thing. They all have the same lock. The nurses have the key and family members have a key. An extra little safeguard.
Nevertheless, I've brought home a small stack of Mom's clothes to sew name tags into, just in case. I'd have done it before, but the move in was so quick, I didn't get a chance to do it. I'm gonna put my feet up and get sewing now.
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