“Good,” I answer, pretending nothing out of the ordinary has happened and that last night wasn’t fucking incredible.
“Just good?”
I laugh.
“What are your plans for today?”
“I don’t think I’ll do a damn thing.”
“Good!” He laughs. “You need to take it easy. I’ve been worried about you. Just veg all day. Read a book.”
The last book is what put the idea in my head. Not that I’ll tell him that. Or, maybe he suspects what I was reading and wants me to do it more. “I haven’t been to the bookstore in weeks.”
“There you go.” He continues to sound cheerful.
“Don’t do that.”
“What.”
“Sound so happy.”
“But I am. How can I not be? I have you. All a guy could want.”
I’m happy too. At least this morning I was. For a short bit I was able to not worry about Nana or the kids at Baxter. “You know, I think I’ll get dressed and head over to the bookstore. They have a cute café and I’ll pick out some new reading material.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I do need to start rebuilding my library.” I’m pretty sure all my lovely books were destroyed in the fire. Just the thought of it makes me sick.
“Great! I was afraid I was done moving boxes of books.”
I have to laugh at him. “Thanks for doing all that.”
“It was my pleasure.”
There’s a softness in his voice. Sensitive. How did I judge him so wrongly before? “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Just being you. Being here.” I mean it. I can’t imagine what it would be like dealing with all this without Cole.
“I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow.”
“Perfect.”
“Anything specific that you want.”
“No. I’m good with whatever you bring home.”
An alarm sounds in the back.
“I gotta go.”
It’s a reminder of how dangerous his job is. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“Me too.”
The trip to the bookstore didn’t take as long as I expected. I could have bought something new to read but I want to start replacing my favorites first. After grabbing those, along with a coffee and blueberry muffin, I’m back in the apartment with every intention of vegging on the couch, but I can’t. It isn’t in me to not be doing something. Not with my laptop sitting on the coffee table and the kids still needing scholarships and schools needing to be researched, so I settle in to work. I don’t know how not to work. Maybe something is off in me. That I don’t know how to just simply relax for more than thirty minutes at a time, with the exception of last night when I read for a few hours. Even when I’m watching TV, trying to be entertained, my mind is either on Nana, or a student, or what I need to be working on, so I might as well work while the TV is in the background. I can do both at the same time.
I make a note to go back and check on a scholarship when my phone rings.
It’s the nursing home. I no longer panic when they call, since they’ve done so daily since Nana went there, but there is still a bit of anxiousness. In time, I’ll get over it.
“Hello.”
“Miss Ferguson?”
“Yes.”
“This is Beth from Manor Gardens.”
“How is Nana doing?”
There’s a pause and I sit up.
“There’s been an incident.”
“Incident?” My heart starts racing.
“There have been more than a few and we thought it was just her getting used to being here, but this time it involved another patient so we need to report it.”
“What?” There have been more and I’m just now hearing about it?
“She’s been violent. Usually lashing out at the staff. We’re used to it, but this time she hit another patient. It needs to be documented.”
“Is she hurt? The patient or Nana?”
“They are both fine,” Beth quickly assures me. “But the doctor wants to send your grandmother back to General for an evaluation.”
“When?”
“An ambulance has been called. She should be there in about half an hour, I think.”
I put my laptop aside and stand. “Can you let me know when she’s on her way?”
“Oh, they’re here,” she says brightly. “They’re rarely that quick, especially on a Saturday night.”
I glance out the window. It’s nearly dark out. The clock on my laptop says it almost nine. Where did the day go?
“I’ll meet them at the ER.” I click off the phone and hurry to the bedroom and grab clothes. I can’t go to the hospital in my pajama pants and t-shirt, which I changed into after I got back from the store. My hands shake as I try to dress. Why am I just hearing about the incidents? Last night she pushed a staff member, which was bad enough. They didn’t tell me it wasn’t the first time.
Nana’s never been violent before so why the hell is she hitting people now? I should have never left her there. I knew it was a mistake but I let people talk me into it. If I hadn’t been so fucking tired and overwhelmed with everything, I wouldn’t have ever allowed it and brought her home.
Not that she had a home, but I would have figured something out.
“Jenna,” I call again. She’s not here. Where can she be at seven thirty in the morning? I put the breakfast bags on the table and grab my phone, just as she walks in the door. “Where were you?”
“The hospital.”
I quickly look her over to make sure she’s okay.
“They took Nana in last night.”
My gut tightens, fearing the worse.
“Do you know that she’s been hitting people? They just told me last night.”
“That happens sometimes.” I’ve been hit quite a few times by patients on my calls there. Even got a black eye once. It happens. “What do they think it is?” I already have an idea, but want to hear what they told Jenna.
“Urinary tract infection.” She drops her bag on the floor and looks at me, a bit perplexed. “Did you know that a UTI can affect the brain and make people violent or act weird when they are older?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen it at the nursing home.”
“Well, I wish someone would have told me.” She sighs and flops down on the couch. “We were there for hours because Nana wouldn’t pee for them. We kept giving her liquids, practically pumping them into her, but when it came time to pee, she wouldn’t go in the cup. It took three nurses.”
“What are they going to do for her?”
“They gave her antibiotics and let her go back.”
“Did you take her?” I hope not. Sometimes when patients get out, they don’t return so easily with family members.
“Yeah and it wasn’t fun.”
I sit beside her.
“As soon as Nana saw the building she refused to get out of the car. She wasn’t going to go back in no matter what I did. Shifts were changing, thank goodness, and one of the nurses saw Nana sitting in my car. She was able to coax her out somehow and get her inside.”
“Did you go with her?”
“No. They told me that I should remain out of sight, again!”
“If it’ll help, I can go by and check on her.”
She blinks up at me, hope in her eyes. “You would?”
“No problem. They know me and chances are, Nana might have forgotten who I am.”
“Thank you.”
I grab the breakfast sandwiches and give her one.
“She’s so agitated,” Jenna says after a bit. “Though she did rest for a bit in the bed, but not for long, and was walking about the room. They had to close her in because the ER was so busy. Is it always like that on Saturday nights?”
“Usually. At least the ones I’ve worked. We were constantly on calls whether I’m with the ambulance or the firehouse.”
Jenna cru
mples the paper from her sandwich and tosses it in the bag.
“Let’s get some sleep and then we’ll go to the nursing home.”
“I can’t go in yet. Not until Tuesday.”
“I don’t plan on staying long. Then we’ll do something.”
“Like what?” She stretches.
“It’s a surprise.”
Thirty-Three
Cole was right, I do love this. At first, I was afraid. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, but he’s right about the freedom. We weren’t at the nursing home long. I waited in the reception area while he went back. Nana did recognize him but didn’t demand to leave. All she said was “car” and pointed at him. I wish I could figure out how her brain works. Or, how her dementia mind works because I wasn’t able to have one coherent conversation with her last night. In fact, when she first saw me, she just pursed her lips and then got up and tried to leave. Every time I tried to keep her from leaving the room, she got mad at me, as if it was all my fault.
The most horrible moment came when they tried to draw blood. She wasn’t about to let them and I didn’t have the strength to hold her. It took two nurses to hold her down, a male nurse to hold her arm and a fourth to draw blood. Nana just screamed, her eyes terrified and then she looked at me. “Why?”
All they wanted to do was draw blood but she looked at me as if I was allowing them to inflict the most horrible torture on her. Confused, panicked and hurt. It tore me apart, but I just had to stand there and try and reason. Not that it did any good.
I’m the one that allowed them to take her to the nursing home. She must really resent me, even if she can’t tell me so much in words. It’s in her eyes.
But there’s nothing I can do about it now. Seeing the state she’s in, there’s no way I’m in a position to take care of her. Hell, two nurses couldn’t even get her to pee. She stinks because she refuses to shower and her hair is gross and stringy. The aides at the nursing home told me that this was normal and soon she’d be in a routine. I hope so because this is not like her at all. Nana used to have her hair done almost weekly and set it each night. At least before her mind started to go. She bathed regularly too and this decline is killing me.
“This place is still unfamiliar to her,” they said.
If that’s what’s causing all of this, then my place wouldn’t be any different. It’s not like I can take her back to where she is familiar. At least not for weeks or months.
Cole turns the motorcycle off the highway and into a rest area. I thought he was just going to take us back to the apartment when we left the nursing home but instead, drove out of town and into the mountains. It’s a beautiful drive and the perfect weather for it.
He parks and turns off the engine before getting off the bike. “So, what do you think?” he asks after taking off his helmet.
“I love it.” I’d probably love it more if I wasn’t so worried.
“You don’t sound that enthused.” He’s frowning at me.
“I’m sorry.” I remove my helmet. It was great that he had one for me. “There’s just so much on my mind.”
Cole leans in and kisses me. It’s warm and loving. I melt inside. There’s something about him that helps soothe my anxiety.
“Just give it time and try to relax.”
I’d love to do just that, but each time I do, something happens with Nana. I need to keep my guard up so I don’t keep getting blindsided when I least expect it.
“Worrying about it constantly doesn’t solve anything.”
“It’s not so easy to turn off either.”
“I know.”
“Do you need the bathroom? I do.”
My legs are stiff as I try to get off the bike. Relax, he says. I’ve relaxed twice, both involving mindblowing sex with Cole, and the next day something happens to Nana.
Is she being punished for my selfishness? I didn’t even really think about her either night. I was too busy getting off.
I know the thoughts are irrational and it’s only a coincidence, but I doesn’t lessen the guilt either. Do I have a right to go along merrily with my life, living it as if nothing horrible is happening to Nana? It’s what I’ve been doing, or at least, that’s what I did those two nights, and it’s not fair to her. She should be my focus. Not having sex with Cole.
It’s wrong and I’ve been selfish, and I’ve got to stop. Nana needs my mind on finding a home for us and getting her out of that place. She’ll be more comfortable with me and if it means putting my life on hold, so be it. Hopefully Cole loves me enough to understand. But, I can’t be concerned with him right now. When he is my focus, things go badly for Nana and that can’t happen anymore.
I certainly will be questioning the nursing home staff more thoroughly when they call though. I’ll no longer accept that she’s doing fine when that is so far from the truth. I’ll want to know when she bathed, washed her hair or if she hit anyone.
My stomach tightens. These are things I never thought I’d have to ask about my grandmother and I pray it is a temporary situation. It has to be.
Jenna hasn’t said much since we got back. There’s a night and day difference between our talk on the phone Saturday and how she is today. But, I get it. She spent the night in the hospital with Nana. Of course she’s going to be tired and a bit down, but she’s also distant.
Shit! Just like she was right after the fire. She isn’t going to try and push me away again, is she? I won’t allow it. But, how do I keep her from doing it?
Dinner was Chinese again, and the cartons litter the top of the coffee table. I’m watching a game and she’s working on her laptop. It’s the same as it has been and even though she’s said nothing specific, I can feel the distance between us growing.
“You okay?”
She blinks up at me. “Sure.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Nope.”
She goes back to working.
I grab a beer and go back to watching the game. Is she closing up on me, again? What the hell do I do? Is this just how she is? Should I make her talk me? Is she just going to keeping putting me at a distance when things go bad?
Taking a swig of beer, I relax further into the couch. I’m here. I love her. She loves me, so communication should be a given?
Doesn’t she trust me? Does she think I won’t understand?
“Are you feeling guilty?”
She looks up at me and blinks. “What?”
“Guilty! For having fun.”
“Not for the fun,” she says slowly. “For not keeping Nana a priority. I shouldn’t have just accepted things were fine. I should have pressed for better answers. Details. Because I didn’t, she had to go to the ER.”
I click off the TV and turn to her. “So, by asking more detailed questions you could have prevented the UTI?”
“No, not exactly.” She shrugs. “I could have told them this was out of character. Maybe they would have taken her sooner for the antibiotics.”
“Nobody acts normal when they first get there. Adjustments need to be made. They wouldn’t have listened.”
Anger flashes in her eyes. “If they aren’t going to listen to her family, then maybe that isn’t the place for her.”
“It’s the only place.” I insist. She might not like it, but it’s the truth.
“There’s got to be other nursing homes with Memory Units. Better ones. That listen to family members who know what’s best.”
“The closest one is an hour away.”
Her mouth pops open. “Really?”
“Yep.” I drain my beer and set it on the table. At least she’s talking to me.
She grabs the laptop and opens a fresh page and begins typing. “All the more reason to keep looking for a two-bedroom apartment.”
“Jenna, you can’t take her in.”
“Of course I can.”
“Who is going to stay with her while you’re at work?”
“I’ll think of something.” She scro
lls through the apartment listings. “Besides, I’m sure they’ll find the right medicine combination so Nana can take care of herself again.”
Is she in denial? “At what cost to you?”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I’ve seen it.”
“Which is why I’m surprised. Look at what your father did.”
“I know. He worked a full-time job, took care of his kids and his dad.”
“I’ll do the same, minus the kids.”
“Without breaks? For yourself.”
“Look,” she sets the laptop aside and turns to me. “It’s bad enough I put her in there. And, it’s bad enough that I’ll be at work all day. I’ll not leave her alone at night and on the weekend too.”
“Again, I ask, at what cost to you?”
“She’s my responsibility. Your dad did the same thing.”
I smile. Now I had her. “My dad did take breaks. He had to for his mental and emotional health.”
“How?”
“When his weekends coincided with Mom’s, he went to her. Sometime he took us, but many times he didn’t. And, sometimes, Mom came home and Dad went fishing. It was whatever he needed. It’s impossible to take care of someone with dementia or Alzheimer’s without taking a break.”
“You were able to leave him alone for the weekend?”
“No, friends that Grandpa still recognized would come in and stay with him. Once he was in the nursing home, he’d leave us kids with Kian’s family. He said he needed those breaks and the normalcy of being with Mom prepared him for what was to come again.”
“Rejuvenate.”
“Yeah, and if you don’t, you’re going to crash. It’s too much to carry alone without taking a break.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She grabs the laptop again.
“No, you won’t.”
“I have to bring her home.” Her voice is quiet.
“At least accept the possibility that you may not be able to.”
Jenna turns her head and looks me right in the eye. There is a firmness around her mouth that doesn’t bode well. “Nana’s favorite saying was ‘you get what you expect’ and I do expect to bring her home.”
Shadows of Memories (Baxter Academy) Page 21