Evelyn

I am reminded of my time caring for demented patients. I always simply met them wherever, and whenever they were, not worrying about trying to "orient them to time, place, person." I just played whatever part they assigned me, daughter, mother, friend, whatever, which seemed to be the right choice. I talked with the, often at cross purposes, but who cared. I had my head petted many times, as I adjusted brakes on wheelchairs, put feet in place, settled them onto the toilet or into bed. Took it as a kindly, parental gesture, a blessing. However tiring, it never upset me.

When Aunt Evelyn had her stroke, I, perhaps 13 or so, patiently answered her repeated questions, for as long as I was present. Long before good treatment, she had the best care available, in a hospital in Windsor, family around her. What time is it? Where am I? What happened? Every few minutes, the cycle began again, and I gave her an answer as though it was the first time she had asked. (Sometimes at that age, we have that kind of patience.) She eventually recovered with no apparent residual. I'm convinced it is because she is naturally left handed, and left handers tend to do better. They'd forced her in school to write right handed. I attribute her many health problems to this, and the scarlet fever. But she lived far into her 80s, felled by a cholangiocarcinoma. She always did everything up right. Tough old broad. I learned so much from her, that I have used in my job.

Dementia, Alzheimer's, both diseases so much harder on families than on the primary patient. Death of personality, but incomplete. Lost relationships, but without a proper burial. Incomplete grief. Partial amputation. A process of anguish, with elements of farce.