Today is Mom’s birthday, her 75th. She has been
in a relatively good mood my last few visits, so I was hoping to make today a
special one for her. I picked up a steak burger, fries, and a Coke and took
them to her at lunch. I also brought a large chocolate chip cookie to share
with the other residents.
Mom was lying in her bed when I arrived. I could hardly
rouse her, so I left her room and ate my steak burger while it was still warm.
I tried to entice her with food several more times before I learned that she
had not gone to bed until 4:30 am. She has a condition called sun-downing.
Dementia patients often mix up their days and nights. Not wanting to aggravate
her, I decided to come back later with the cookie. Just as I was about to
leave, she showed up in the common room and took the steak burger. She ate the
whole thing plus the fries I had left her. Then she sat down at someone else’s
plate and ate all the lasagna and vegetables. Then she asked for more lasagna.
I cut and distributed the cookie without much fanfare. I
wanted to sing “Happy Birthday” and make some sort of a fuss over her, but I
could not get her attention. She was oblivious.
One resident made me smile. Jerry, a former school
principal, is known for his booming and authoritative voice. He can be
intimidating but most of the time he’s like a big teddy bear. I was instructed
to give him a small piece since he is borderline diabetic. He quickly ate his
small piece of cookie and asked for another. When the nurse told me it was
okay, I gave him another small piece. “Is this all I get?” he asked.
“Jerry, you know you have to watch your sugar,” I told him.
“I won’t get much sugar out of that,” he briskly informed me.
I laughed but was also sad. He just said so much more than
Mom could ever communicate. I tried to engage Mom in a puzzle, but she wasn’t
interested today. She wandered around the room, found her “Happy Birthday”
banner on the floor and shoved it in a cabinet. I had to wonder if on some
level she knew what she was doing.
