Chip
For Chip: He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion. —Unknown
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Not Giving Up
The elderly grey haired lady
slouched over in the wheelchair reeling from the effects of Alzheimer’s. Her daughter fawned over her energetically,
and it was obvious the daughter had not seen her in a while. She lived in Albuquerque and was feeling guilty
that she had been away from her mom for too long. The mom was not happy about anything, and the
daughter was trying too hard to please her.
The wayward daughter was fidgety and grabbing the mom every time she
adjusted herself in the wheelchair. She
seemed anxious to send the mom to bed.
My mom sat quietly as she stared
out the window and pointed at the flowers on the trees and plants in the one
sanctuary I have found at the facility.
There were a few bunnies hopping around shrubs and into ground cover
where they became invisible. My mom was
smiling as she looked outside. I grabbed
my sunglasses and gave them to her. I
thought she looked trendy in Coach Sunglasses since she always wears huge
sunglasses worn after eye surgery. Her glaucoma has wreaked havoc on her vision. She seems very sad except for when she goes
outside and sees the plants, flowers and feels the hot air. I knew the heat would not bother her since
she would never turn on the air conditioning in her own home. Frequently, her house was ninety degrees
when I came to visit.
The out of Towner talked
incessantly as she noted the nine months she had missed with her mom. I laughed as she gasped when they were at the
dining table and her mom yelled out “I don’t give a damn”. The daughter kept apologizing to the other
diners explaining that her mom had never said such harsh words. The other diners had various ailments including
stroke and dementia, and would not have noticed the conversation.
I had sat at a table for two with
my mother as she sipped nectar water. It
is given to patients who have lost the ability to swallow. She sipped her favorite drink of Dr. Pepper,
but grimaced at the taste. The only food
she attempted to eat was a spoonful of ice cream, and she only tasted. Despite rejecting food she still seems strong
and alert. She lunges forward as she
attempts to leave the chair. I knew she
had still not given up when she pointed at my purse and then did a thumbs up as
she said “Let’s go”. “You can get
something to eat on the way”.
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