BarnSwallow of Bloom
Jun. 4th, 2025 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoIt was quite a trippy day with Madame. I was dubious about taking her out today, both because it was raining persistently, and because I was a little worried about getting her back IN. I decided to pick up coffee and pastries for her and hope to have a visit at her residence. My decision was confirmed when the group text to which I am privy received a semi-panicked text from the daughter in Florida to say she'd been on the phone with Madame, who was agitated about being "lost." The daughter wondered if anyone was able to go there and calm her down. Mademoiselle was on jury duty this morning, and not only couldn't visit, but couldn't take calls. Everyone was relieved when I said I was on my way over.
When I arrived, she was still quite agitated. One of the aides was walking with her, trying to reassure her. She was overjoyed to see me walk in, and stammered out that she had been lost since yesterday and that no one knew where she was. We sat down with our coffee and began to talk, and soon she forgot all about that problem and we talked of more ordinary things. I think the problem is that SHE doesn't know where she is--so how could anyone else? I've been suspecting for some time that she has forgotten my name, and now I'm convinced of it. She still knows who I am, but she's forgotten what I'm called. She has been speaking for a couple of weeks now about some mysterious man that she met--someone who knows her family. She kept looking around for this guy, as if he might walk in any minute. I have no idea who he is. Possibly an imaginary friend. But she was quite concerned that he doesn't know where to find her.
I was hoping I could leave when the residents were gathered for lunch, but just at that point, Mademoiselle texted to say she was free and would pick up some lunch and come over to see her mother. So I thought I might as well wait until she arrived. But time went on, and Mademoiselle did not appear. I was mystified and would have liked to take off, but by that time, Madame was getting agitated again, and kept wanting to "go upstairs," by which she means out of memory care and into the larger social space in the front of the building. She believes herself to be "in the basement." In fact, there are no stairs. It's just one level! I put her off as long as I could, because I knew it was just a ploy to get closer to the exit so she could try to get out. But she was very insistent, so eventually we went out there where she could keep watch to see if her daughter (or the mystery man) was coming.
This ultimately resulted in a clusterfork at the front door, when Mademoiselle arrived with her giant baby stroller, about the same time as a couple of other people who wanted to enter. Madame motivated her walker over to the door and stood there hollering at the people waiting, urging them with vigorous gestures to "just PUSH something! Push it and open the door!" It doesn't matter how many times you tell her that the staff have to open the door with a key card. She still firmly believes that the correct way is to thump the emergency bar until the sirens go off. This makes for some excitement . . . . Somehow we managed to get Mademoiselle INSIDE without letting Madame get OUTSIDE, and then she was distracted, and I was able to make my own exit.
The punchline is that Mademoiselle texted me when I was on my way home to apologize profusely and say she had actually fallen asleep in the car at the deli while she was waiting for her order to be reader. I guess she had a long day! We agreed that it is necessary to laugh about all this rather than the alternative.
When I arrived, she was still quite agitated. One of the aides was walking with her, trying to reassure her. She was overjoyed to see me walk in, and stammered out that she had been lost since yesterday and that no one knew where she was. We sat down with our coffee and began to talk, and soon she forgot all about that problem and we talked of more ordinary things. I think the problem is that SHE doesn't know where she is--so how could anyone else? I've been suspecting for some time that she has forgotten my name, and now I'm convinced of it. She still knows who I am, but she's forgotten what I'm called. She has been speaking for a couple of weeks now about some mysterious man that she met--someone who knows her family. She kept looking around for this guy, as if he might walk in any minute. I have no idea who he is. Possibly an imaginary friend. But she was quite concerned that he doesn't know where to find her.
I was hoping I could leave when the residents were gathered for lunch, but just at that point, Mademoiselle texted to say she was free and would pick up some lunch and come over to see her mother. So I thought I might as well wait until she arrived. But time went on, and Mademoiselle did not appear. I was mystified and would have liked to take off, but by that time, Madame was getting agitated again, and kept wanting to "go upstairs," by which she means out of memory care and into the larger social space in the front of the building. She believes herself to be "in the basement." In fact, there are no stairs. It's just one level! I put her off as long as I could, because I knew it was just a ploy to get closer to the exit so she could try to get out. But she was very insistent, so eventually we went out there where she could keep watch to see if her daughter (or the mystery man) was coming.
This ultimately resulted in a clusterfork at the front door, when Mademoiselle arrived with her giant baby stroller, about the same time as a couple of other people who wanted to enter. Madame motivated her walker over to the door and stood there hollering at the people waiting, urging them with vigorous gestures to "just PUSH something! Push it and open the door!" It doesn't matter how many times you tell her that the staff have to open the door with a key card. She still firmly believes that the correct way is to thump the emergency bar until the sirens go off. This makes for some excitement . . . . Somehow we managed to get Mademoiselle INSIDE without letting Madame get OUTSIDE, and then she was distracted, and I was able to make my own exit.
The punchline is that Mademoiselle texted me when I was on my way home to apologize profusely and say she had actually fallen asleep in the car at the deli while she was waiting for her order to be reader. I guess she had a long day! We agreed that it is necessary to laugh about all this rather than the alternative.
it's you!
Date: 2025-06-05 04:18 am (UTC)stars in your crown, ismo.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-05 12:22 pm (UTC)