Shadows of Memories (Baxter Academy)

by Charles, Jane

  Thirty-Four

  I don’t know why I’m shaking as I approach the doors to the behavior unit. I saw Nana Saturday night, returning her Sunday morning. But, that was at the hospital. Not here. What if she begs me to take her home? I don’t have a place yet. What if she hates me?

  What if she doesn’t recognize me?

  She didn’t call me by name in the ER, not that it’s unusual, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that she hasn’t really said my name in weeks, if not months.

  She’s slipped so far and has been disappearing. The little things that I tried to forget. Though in retrospect, they’re not that little. Turning the oven off while the turkey was cooking on Thanksgiving. Not putting a tree up for Christmas because it was stupid. Telling me the neighbors were idiots when I tried to explain why there were Christmas lights around their houses.

  I pretended these were not a big deal.

  Had I not lied to myself and if I hadn’t kept making excuses for her, maybe I could have gotten her help sooner. A medication to stop this.

  And maybe she wouldn’t have burned down her house.

  The guilt eats at me, making me sick to my stomach. I have to fix this. I need to find a place and take her home. I’m the one to care for her. Not a bunch of strangers.

  I punch the numbers into the keypad and the door clicks. Taking a deep breath, through my mouth because the smell in here is worse than a garbage dump, I go in and quickly shut it behind me because one of the patients is trying to make a break, practically running for the door.

  Nana’s not in her room so I start looking for her. A few patients are wandering around, and more are in the dining room, but they aren’t eating anything, just sitting. Nana’s standing at a window looking out.

  “Nana.”

  She turns to me and a smile blossoms on her face as her arms go wide. “You’re here.”

  Emotion clogs my throat with relief. She does seem okay. I clear my throat and blink away some moisture. Now’s not the time to cry. “How are you Nana?”

  She hugs me and then pats the seat beside her. “Sit, sit, sit.”

  I do as she says and take her hand. Another patient wanders over and looks at me.

  “She’s mine,” Nana snaps at her.

  “I’m Jenna.”

  “Take me home,” the older person says and my heart nearly breaks.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  She turns and shuffles away.

  Everyone on this unit has a form of dementia and Alzheimer’s and it’s so sad. A few are in wheelchairs and staring blankly. Others are walking and chatting and if I didn’t know they had memory issues, I’d never guess it. What prompted their families to realize something was wrong? Were they in denial or making excuses as long as I was?

  “Do you like it here, Nana?”

  “They do that, you know.”

  “Do what.”

  “That,” and she gestures to the door.

  I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Can I bring you anything?”

  “Yeah, yeah, the place.”

  “What place?”

  “His!”

  I wish I could make sense of what she’s staying.

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “That’s nice isn’t it?”

  A headache begins at the base of my skull. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but this isn’t a first. It’s just been getting worse for weeks.

  Without a word she stands and walks out of the room. I follow, no idea where she’s going.

  She stops at the far end of the hall and looks out the window, and then turns and goes into a room that isn’t her own and lies down on the bed.

  “Nana, this isn’t your room.” I try to get her up and she pushes me away.

  “Nana, if you want to lay down, I’ll take you to your room.”

  She blows out a sigh as if irritated with me, but at least she sits up when I gently pull on her arm. She allows me to take her back out to the hall but when we get to her room, she refuses to go in, so we walk. Nana stops at the nurses’ station and waves to the nurses.

  “Hi, Laura,” they say. It’s weird hearing my grandmother called by her first name, but the staff wouldn’t call her Mrs.

  She then wanders back into the recreation room. There are counters and a sink and she takes paper towels, wets them and starts wiping everything down. Nana was also one for keeping things clean. Well, wiping stuff down, not necessarily dishes in the past months.

  “She likes to clean.” The attendant says as she comes in and dumps dishtowels on the table.

  Nana tosses the paper towels and grabs the dishtowels.

  “Some of the patients like to fold them. It gives them something familiar to do.

  Nana sits and works at making the corners match up. They aren’t the most even towels I’ve seen and as soon as she gets one corner matched up, the other is off, so she fixes that, going back and forth between the two. Nana could sit here all day messing with it and it won’t ever line up perfectly.

  “It’s good, Nana.” I go to take it from her, but she grabs it out of my hand, giving me an angry look.

  “Okay.” I hold up my hands so she knows I won’t touch it again.

  “She’ll be fine”, the nurse says before she leaves the room.

  “So, what have you been doing here, Nana, besides folding towels?”

  She just shrugs.

  “Can I help you?” I reach for a towel and she slaps my hand.

  “I’ll just sit here, then.”

  She keeps working with the same washcloth, trying to get the corners to match up, ignoring the pile in the middle of the table. I try to talk to her, but her comments make no sense. A jumble of words that don’t go together.

  After five minutes, she crumbles up the towel and tosses it in the pile, as if she’s disgusted and stands. Maybe if they had towels that were perfect squares, Nana would have folded them all by now.

  At least her hair is clean and she doesn’t stink. Apparently they got her into a shower at one point. That’s a good sign, right?

  She goes back out in the hall, leaving me behind as if I’m not even there and I spend the next half hour following her around, trying to talk to her, but she doesn’t stay in one place for long. I can’t tell if she’s agitated or bored or what. The television doesn’t hold her interest. Someone is playing the piano in the in the recreation room and another person is singing, badly, lyrics I’ve never heard. They aren’t even matching the notes.

  Nana listens for a few minutes. “Stupid.”

  She turns and goes back out into the hall.

  This following and trying to talk to her is getting exhausting.

  The food carts come down the hall and I check my watch. It’s dinner time.

  The nurses start placing the trays on the table and leading residents into the dining room. Some go and others push the staff away. I take Nana’s hand and lead her into the room. She stands, looks around and then leaves.

  I hurry after her. “Nana, you need to eat.”

  She pushes me away and goes to the window.

  “Maybe she’ll eat if you aren’t here.” The nurse says gently. “Though she really hasn’t eaten all that much.”

  Well, the stuff is probably no better than hospital food.

  I don’t really want to leave Nana. I’ve waited days to see her, to see for myself that she’s okay and to spend time with her. But after those first five minutes, she’s barely looked at me. I had hoped that she’d want to see me as much as I wanted to see her.

  But, at least she isn’t standing at the door, waiting to escape and yelling “Go.” There is that.

  There isn’t much I can do here, except follow her around. It’s all very strange and I’m really not sure how to process it.

  I take her hand. “I’m going to go, Nana.”

  “Now?”

  Maybe I was wrong. “I can stay.”

  “Be back?�
�

  “I’ll come back.”

  “When?” Finally a conversation.

  “Later, I promise.”

  “Good.” With that, she turns and walks into the dining room, leaving me standing in the hall.

  I can go as long as I come back, which will be tomorrow.

  The apartment is empty when I get home, which is kind of a relief. I like having Cole here, but I don’t like him trying to push me to do something that I know isn’t right for Nana. He hasn’t said anything else since Sunday night, but I know what he’s thinking and it pisses me off.

  His father took care of his father, so why can’t he understand that I need to take care of Nana?

  In time, he’ll get it. I know he’s only concerned for me but I won’t feel right until I’m the one in charge of my grandmother.

  It is nice when he’s here though. Despite our disagreement Sunday, it was good sleeping with him Sunday and Monday night. The bed is my own tonight and I’m not sure I like it.

  I picked up the mail on the way to the apartment and start shuffling through it as I go into the kitchen for something to eat. There’s a letter from the insurance company. I hold my breath and tear it open. What if they deny the claim?

  I blow out a sigh and lean against the counter. They’ve covered everything. There’s a release for me to sign and then they’ll send me a check for the house and contents. I just hope it’s enough. The quicker I can get the house finished, the quicker I can move Nana home. Maybe the time will work out so that when they’re ready to release her and have found the right medication, the house will be ready to live in.

  “Great. Now you can start making plans for the house.” I’ve been worried that the insurance company would deny her. Now that they haven’t, she can start on plans.

  “I’ll wait.”

  “For what?” Jenna’s been distant since we kind of argued on Sunday, but she hasn’t asked me to leave yet.

  “I guess I won’t really believe it until I have the check in hand.”

  “Check or no check, something needs to be done with the house.”

  She blows out a sigh. “I know that. And, the sooner the better, so I have a place to take Nana. But, what if they change their mind, or something goes wrong. Then I’ll have to figure something else out.”

  “Jenna, you read the letter, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “They are sending a check.”

  “Just let me do this my way.”

  I thought she’d be thrilled. Something’s finally going right. “What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing.” She stands and goes into the kitchen and starts rinsing the dinner dishes.

  “Did you go to the nursing home yet?”

  “Yesterday and today.”

  “How’s Nana?”

  There’s silence before she slowly turns. “She hasn’t called me by my name in weeks.”

  My grandfather stopped calling me by my name long before he forgot me altogether. I want to offer her hope, but it’d be false. As much as I want to keep the peace between us, I won’t do that. So, I say nothing.

  “She never will say my name again, will she?”

  “I don’t know.” I really don’t. She could surprise everyone and blurt it out one day. It’s unlikely.

  “She still says Grandpa’s name. It’s one of the few things I have understood, not that I can figure out any context. She’s missed him since he died. She stopped doing things, other than getting her hair done and going to work when he died. She even stopped visiting with friends.” Jenna just shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it anyway.”

  That isn’t going to make the situation go away, but I give it to her. She’s still dealing with everything, but she also has to move forward. I have both Saturday and Sunday off this weekend and hopefully she’ll be ready to make plans by then.

  “Do you want to do anything? Watch TV?”

  “I need to work.”

  She always has work. I don’t resent it. Or, at least I shouldn’t, but I’m beginning to think it’s an excuse. Something she uses so she doesn’t have to deal with her personal realities.

  Time. She just needs time.

  She has until this weekend.

  Thirty-Five

  This is the first time Cole’s come with me. I hadn’t asked him before because I’d gone straight to the nursing home from school. This morning, I asked. Maybe if he sees her, he’ll understand why she needs to come home.

  Nana is sitting at a table, staring off into space when we find her. Her eyes meet mine and she smiles. I take a seat across from her and Cole grabs a chair. Something’s off with Nana’s face. It takes me a minute but then I realize one side of her mouth is drooping.

  “Cole, look at Nana’s face.”

  He studies her, but says nothing.

  “Her mouth.”

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  “Nana, is everything okay?”

  “Good! Good! Good!”

  Wow, she actually answered a question.

  “Slosh, cumber and nuts.”

  And that made no sense at all.

  The drooping mouth is bugging me and I call a nurse over. “Did you notice the side of her mouth?”

  The woman squats and frowns. “No, I didn’t. But I just came on shift. Let me get another nurse.”

  She returns a moment later with another nurse.

  “I was on duty last night.” She studies Nana.

  “She looks like she had a stroke.” At least what I think it would look like from what I’ve heard.

  “Well, there was an incident last night. An episode.”

  I whip around and stare at her. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “She recovered quickly enough.”

  “What happened?” Cole asks, calmer than me.

  “She was by the door and kind of collapsed. She didn’t seem injured and she was conscious, so we got her in bed. She took a short nap and when she woke, she was fine. Up and about like always.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “Had she been hurt, we would have. These things happen with the residents.”

  “She’s my grandmother.”

  Cole puts a hand on my arm. “Jenna, if they called every time a resident fell, or passes out, or bumps into something, they’d spend more time on the phone than being with the residents. They are older, some not in the best health.”

  “She didn’t bump her head,” the nurse assures me. “We called the doctor. Monitored her. Her vitals were good and she seemed fine.”

  I guess he’s right. It’s probably no different than every time a child takes a fall. You don’t rush them to the ER for every scraped knee.

  “We’ve also kept an eye on her.”

  “Her mouth is drooping!” Did they not notice that?

  “It’s slight.”

  I noticed and I’m not in the medical profession.

  “It is barely noticeable,” Cole says. “I didn’t until you pointed it out.”

  Maybe I’m being too protective. It’s not like half of her face is lower than the other half. Just one side of her mouth.

  Taking the book from my bag I set it on the table. “Do you want me to read to you again, Nana?”

  She doesn’t say anything. I started reading Little Women to her on Thursday. It was one of Nana’s favorite books and since we can’t have a conversation, maybe this will get through to her. I open the book and start where I left off.

  Cole gets up and walks around the room, trying to talk to the other residents. He’s a regular visitor and I peek at him while I turn the page. He’s massaging the shoulders of an older woman. She has a calm, relaxed smile on her face. He’s a good man, even if he doesn’t understand why I need to be the one taking care of Nana.

  Nana drifts off after thirty minutes and I wake her long enough to get her back to her bed. She’s never fallen asleep on me before. Usually I can’t read for long before she’s up and moving around. Maybe the e
pisode made her tired.

  “Do you want to stop by the house?” I ask Jenna as we leave the nursing home after getting Nana settled into bed.

  “I’d rather go to Kian and Alexia’s.”

  “Their cookout isn’t for a few hours.”

  “I need to make something to take.”

  Fine, I’ll give her today. But that’s it. I love her, but I’m afraid the longer these keeps herself in denial over Nana’s health and the state of the house, she won’t move forward. Every time we discuss the situation, she shuts down.

  Maybe it is too soon but it’s not going to get any easier waiting either. Hopefully she won’t be pissed at me later.

  It’s a small gathering. Kian made hot dogs and hamburgers and everyone brought some type of side dish. Besides Kian and Alexia, only Joey, Ben and Dylan are here. All people that have known Jenna for a long time. Alexia’s the only exception, but the two are friends.

  This is an intervention. Though I really don’t want to call it that, but the cookout and the guest list were my idea and I hope her friends will be able to help get her thinking about the house.

  “Did you bring the plans?” Joey finally asks.

  All I can hope is that she takes this well. “Kian has them in the dining room.”

  “What plans?” Jenna looks around a bit confused.

  “Wait until you see these.” Dylan jumps up and jogs into the house, returning a few minutes later with rolls of paper.

  “It’s probably too dark to really see them,” Ben suggests.

  The sun is dipping on the horizon and we’ve sat out here a long time talking about all kinds of stuff. “It’d be easier for her to see if they were rolled out on the table anyway.”

  “See what?”

  “Just you wait.” Dylan grins at Jenna. “Come inside.”

  She’s the only one who is confused. The rest of us know what’s going on, but my gut tightens anyway. This could go great or very, very badly. I haven’t told my friends that Jenna hasn’t even been to the house yet, or that she intends to bring Nana home. It’s too personal, and it’s between us. If she wants to say something, fine, but I’m not going to be the one to point out she’s still not dealing with the situation well. Or, hasn’t really dealt with it at all. Just doing what needs to be done. Every time a decision needs to be made, or something happens with Nana, Jenna takes care of it, burying her emotions a little more.