And Sunday!
A banner day because one of the PALs got her to take a shower. And then, like when you get your cat back from the veterinarian's office, my mom smelled like someone else's perfume all day. Something with vetiver. Quite delicious.
I had decided to take mom on a long, exhausting drive. And right before I left the house I saw a fb post that a friend was doing a poke pop-up at his commercial kitchen, only a few miles from where the windy road we drive on poops us back into civilization.
It was kinda nice. I drove us through city streets rather than going back near her old neighborhood. Then up the hill, onto the freeway, onto the windy road that we really like. Mom was super digging it, and often complimented me on my driving or asked if I like to drive. Then we pooped into the suburbs and it turns out that the street we poop on is the street where my friend's business is. Who knew?
Unfortunately the parking lot was too hilly for me to bring her to my friend, and he started having a lunch rush, so he couldn't go to the car to meet her. One of these days. He's such a nice guy, a Catholic school teacher whose brother is even a priest, whose slack key guitar albums have won Hoku Awards, whose other passions and achievements are so vast that I often refer to him as the hardest working man in Hawaiian show business. The kind of guy who makes you look good to your parents because he's so charming and personable. Anyway, I bought us a plate lunch and some poke and the bubble burst because it turns out that miss picky doesn't like poke. How could she not like poke?
So I asked Siri for the location of the nearest McDonalds. Oh well. The magic hours were starting to fade away, and soon she was stuffing her cheesy saucy fish filet bun into my cup holder (gross!) and her back was hurting and she wanted me to drive us back but she didn't want me to do it while she was eating.
Sunday I had gotten smart and decided to take the wheelchair, which made our re-entry more smooth than the day before. S, the program director, was talking to the residents about happiness and fulfillment and contentment, which I thought was pretty remarkable. We rolled on past, because we were tired after driving for a few hours, but S is one of the best things about this place, and they are only 20 years old.
Mom and I took a long nap, then we looked at family photos on my laptop, then we navigated a phone call with my sister, in which mom was amazingly lucid. The only real hiccup was when mom wanted me to put makeup on her before dinner. It was locked in her cabinet in the bathroom, and it was kindof an emergency almost-meltdown that was forestalled when I made her up. Then we had dinner, where people were smiling at us. The ladies at memory care pretty much like me. I mean, who wouldn't? I try to learn their names and give a nice smile and break through their gaze and give them a moment of attention. My model is James P. Sullivan from Monsters, Inc. "Hey, Marge! Did you lose weight? Or a limb?"
At dinner we sat with one lady who is kind and sweet and acts as a quiet echo, lightly repeating and agreeing with whatever you last said, as if you were singing in a round. She actually turned to us and wished us a nice afternoon, which made me feel happy and hopeful. I went home early and mom didn't complain. She didn't ask about her caregiver too often.
Again, a banner day.
No comments:
Post a Comment