"Forgetting the Forgotten" by Priya Mehta
“Mom, are you ready for your appointment with Dr. Walters?” says my daughter Claudia. I look over to find her dressed in her boots and wool coat for the chilling winter air, confused as to what she is talking about. “What appointment Claudia?” My hardly fazed daughter runs upstairs, grabs my coat and comes back downstairs before I even find my pocket calendar. As she helps me put it on, she quickly explains, “You have an appointment with Dr. Walters today so he can see how you’re doing with the Alzheimer’s.” “Oh yes, yes I know dear. We better get going,” I reply.
As we enter the waiting room of the doctor’s office, I am struck by the beautiful wallpaper in the waiting room, the intricate detail and pattern. I tug on Claudia’s coat sleeve, pointing at the wall and saying “Oh just look at that Claudia, isn’t it beautiful?” Claudia absent-mindedly replies, “Yes Mom, it’s gorgeous, just as it’s been for the past three years.” “Hello Martha, how are you doing today?” asks a kind-faced receptionist as I pass her. “How do you know my name? Have we met before?” I ask, confused as to who she is. Claudia chimes in, “This is Patricia, Mom. You’ve known her for three years now, ever since you’ve been coming here for your appointments.” “Oh, hello then Patricia,” I say while tentatively smiling and quickly shaking her hand, possibly too firmly considering she stretched it afterwards.
Claudia and I sit in the waiting room for my appointment to start. Suddenly, I realize the familiarity of the environment again and lean over to Claudia and say, “I hope Dr. Walters tells me my Alzheimer’s is getting better. I think it has been better, don’t you hun?” Claudia gives me a sad smile, takes my hand, and says, “You’ve been handling it well Mom. You’re strong.” “It’s because I have you dear,” I smile and say back.
Fifteen more minutes pass when a nurse finally comes out and calls my name to see Dr. Walters. We head back into the examination room and find him already there, typing away on his computer. When he sees us enter, he gives us a big smile and gets out of his chair. He takes my hands and asks, “How’s my strong Martha been doing these past three months?” “She’s been working through it Dr. Walters, I can assure you of that,” I reply with a smile. I settle down in a chair next to Claudia while he pulls out my files and quickly reviews them. Then he says, “I’m going to ask you a series of questions Martha. Some of them may seem silly but stay with me alright? What’s your name?” “Martha Harris” “Who do you live with?” “I live alone but Claudia comes over often.” He continues to ask general questions about my life when he finally starts asking about my Alzheimer’s. “How long have you had Alzheimer’s?” “I think it started two years ago.” Dr. Walters tries to inconspicuously look over at Claudia, making me realize that I’ve probably had it for longer than two years. He goes on to ask, “How often do you find yourself forgetting things in the present time?” “I usually forget what I’m doing or don’t recognize things maybe two times a day.” Once again, I see Dr. Walters throw a curious look over to Claudia. Finally, he gently says, “Claudia called me before the appointment and told me that you have lapses of memory about four to five times a day, some lapses not as severe as others. You don’t always remember these, do you?” I look down at my hands and have to say, “No, I guess I don’t.” Dr. Walters pauses for a moment and thinks about what to do next......
.....She’s unfortunately getting worse, showing the natural progression of Alzheimer’s. Three years ago, she had shown signs of common dementia. When it first progressed, I took a brain image to see if I could pinpoint a visible abnormality related to the disease, such as a stroke, tumor, or trauma. I found nothing of the sort. Ever since that first appointment, she’s gotten much worse, portraying the common progressive nature of Alzheimer’s. Now, at 70 years old, she’s having more severe lapses of memory more often. She’s thinner now too, she must be forgetting to eat quite often. I’ll have to make a note of that for her daughter. Before the appointment, Claudia called in and let me know that Martha is getting worse before her eyes, even though Martha herself doesn’t realize it. She told me that Martha looses things all the time and forgets people and places she’s been familiar with for some quite a while. It’s awfully disheartening to see, for both Martha and Claudia.
I want to measure her increased severity of the disease. I take out a magazine and tell Martha, “I’m going to point at specific objects in the magazine, and I want you to tell me what they are called. Sound good?” She nods her head and straightens her posture, readying herself for the test. I point over to a bicycle, and with ease, she gives the correct noun. Then I point to a chimney, and once again, she responds with ease. I find a picture of a lawnmower and point to it, realizing a few beats later that Martha is unable to recite the name of the object. She stares at it for a bit, squinting her eyes and showing great focus. Finally, she shakes her head and says that she just can’t think of the right word. I proceed to tell her it is a lawnmower and she quickly nods her head and says, “Yes of course, of course. Obviously.” We continue this for about two more minutes, and in that time, she recited a majority of the nouns correctly. This is still worse than normal memories, but it helps me deduce that her Alzheimer’s isn’t as bad as I initially thought.
I also want to test her thinking and reasoning abilities, so I decide to ask her a few mathematics questions. We start off with basic addition and subtraction. She proves to handle that very well, naturally taking more time on questions involving larger numbers. As we begin multiplication and division, however, she has an inability to understand the abstract concept of dividing two numbers. In general, I found that people of her age would typically have trouble with multiplication and division, but would remember the concept after going through a few examples. Martha, however, is unable to grasp these concepts entirely.
I want to get a general idea of her neurological health so I decide to test her reflexes, muscle tone and strength, her ability to get up from a chair and walk across the room, coordination, and balance. People with Alzheimer’s usually have lower coordination. These tests help me see that Martha is no exception considering she needs to constantly grab near furniture, Claudia, or myself to remain balanced when trying to walk in a straight line.
From these examinations, it seems to me that unfortunately, Martha’s disease has worsened a bit from her last appointment three months ago. I don’t want her to be completely dependent on Claudia because I know how hard that would be for both of them. Therefore, I decide to put her on Memantine, a drug that works in a brain cell communication network and slows the progression of her moderate symptoms. I could have put her on Cholinesterase inhibitors, but I don’t want her to deal with the side effects of diarrhea, nausea, and sleep disturbances at her age. I remind her that while these drugs will not necessarily “cure” her Alzheimer’s, they will help with her frustrating memory symptoms. I’ll check next appointment to see if the Memantine is working well for her. I really hope it helps, Martha is a lovely person....
I squint at the prescription of Memantine, praying that it’ll keep my memory working. I do not want Claudia to have to give up even more of her life to make sure I’m not out of my wits. And I’m definitely not having another stranger take care of me, no sir it’s not that time for me. Oh please God, let the Memantine work.
From all the tests Dr. Walters performed, I can understand that my symptoms have gotten worse, even before he tells me, “Unfortunately, Martha, I have to let you know your symptoms did get a bit worse compared to your last visit. Aside from the prescription, I want you to think about seeking support services now, rather than lat--. I interpret him, sternly stating “I’m not going into a home Dr. Walters. I don’t need that. My memory isn’t that bad.” I feel Claudia take my hand. Dr. Walters gives a sad half-smile and says, “I don’t think you need it yet either. What I’m suggesting is a sort of social support network or counseling. Interacting with people who know what you’re going through, people you can freely talk about Alzheimer’s with. I’ve found that these groups do well for the mental and emotional well-being of patients.” I consider this. It’s really not a bad idea. I’m not dependent on any of these people. They’re just there to talk and interact with. Doesn’t seem too bad at all. “Yes, this sounds like something I could try.” Dr. Walters looks pleased and hands me a sheet of paper with the phone number of the organization called “Center for Smiles.” I return home and get ready for bed, hoping to dream sweet dreams of memory, Memantine, and smiles.
The morning sun shines, so I get up and start cooking breakfast. I was watching The Food Network the other day and saw the most delicious-looking French toast being made. I think I’ll make some now for myself and give some to Claudia when she comes around. Now where did I put that recipe I wrote down? I walk over to the countertop next to the sink and check it. Nothing. Maybe on the other side of the sink. Still nothing. I might’ve put it under the sink when I was in a hurry last time, but when I open it, I find nothing but cleaning supplies. I walk back over to the stove and scratch my head. Where can the darn thing be? I keep staring at the stove when I suddenly remember the recipe is in the drawer next to the stove. Of course, of course, that’s where I keep my other cookbooks. I pull out the recipe and begin reading. There are too many steps, and some of the materials start jumbling in my head as I read. Just look at one step at a time. I walk over to the top cabinet to get a mixing bowl. Or did it say measuring cup? Was it asking for both? I just read it! I stomp back to the recipe and take another look at the instructions. Mixing bowl, just as I thought.
After some time, I have finally gathered everything I need for the French toast. I grab the large pan I took out earlier and quickly rinse and dry it with a paper towel. I add a small piece of butter to the surface of the pan and set it delicately on the burner of the stove. I go downstairs to get my cooking timer and apron and come back to a burning smell in the kitchen. Oh gosh what did I do! I quickly get over to the stove and find that I left the paper towel I used for drying in the pan while the burner was on. If it’s not on fire, why is it making that smell? Should I take off the paper towel right now? But the burner is still on. Oh it might catch fire any second! Finally, I turn the burner off, grab the handle of the pan and dump the towel into the sink, watching the charred paper product leave small hints of smoke.
I stand over the sink for thirty more seconds, giving myself a chance to catch up with what just happened. I notice that the pan is still in my hand, and I slam it into the sink, making a loud metal-crashing sound. I stand over the sink for a few more seconds when I hear a knock on the back door. Claudia. After a second, I walk over to the door and unlock it, turning right back around as soon as I do. Claudia urgently walks in, quickly asking “What was that sound? It was like metal.” “It was nothing of importance,” I snap back. I already ruined the French toast before I could even make it. This shouldn’t be that difficult, I used to cook all the time! I can feel my heart starting to accelerate. I look over to Claudia and find her still standing there, looking at me curiously. She finally asks, “Were you trying to cook something Mom?” “Oh never mind that, just leave it alone” I snap again. This time, I could see Claudia flinch. “What’s the matter,” I ask gently. After a beat or two, she responds, “Mom it’s ok. Despite whatever might’ve happened, just calm down.” Doesn’t she see I am calm? “Didn’t I say to leave it alone? I’m fine,” I once again reply.
Looking tired, Claudia changes the subject: “Are you ready for support group, Mom? We should get going soon.” I squint, trying to remember the date. Today’s not the 18th of January, is it? “I think you’re mistaken Claudia, the appointment’s not until the 23rd of January. Today’s just the 18th.” Claudia gently replies, “No Mom today’s the 24th of January, and the support group starts up again today.” Today’s really the 24th? “There’s no way Claudia, check again.” Without double checking, Claudia replies, “I’m positive Mom, we should get going soon.” Why can’t she just check? “Well I don’t want to go. You can go without me.” Looking surprised, Claudia responds with “It’s not for me Mom, it’s for you. And in Dr. Walters’ office, you were saying the group sounded like something you could try.” “Well I changed my mind,” I respond simply. Claudia just stands there for a second or two before responding, “Mom, I really think this could help you. Can you just try it today? Please. For me?” I look at her face and immediately respond, “Well of course honey, I might as well try it.”
As we walk into the building, I see other elderly men and women accompanied with what seems like children of their own. The main lobby is neat and tidy, rid of excess furniture, clutter, and rugs. When we were passing the stairs, there were handrails against all of the walls. I go to the restroom and there isn’t even a mirror available at the sink. This place has done their homework. Why didn’t Claudia want me to come here?
When I come back to the main area for the group, I see some people sitting near the television, watching the news. I overhear people talking about everything from their other family members to old jobs to travel experiences. Then I see Claudia talking to a young lady in more formal wear. Must be the social group leader, and I can see her name tag says Kristy. I look back nervously at the group and notice an empty sitting area in the far corner of the room. I grab a magazine and start reading it there.
After some time passes, Claudia finds me and looks concerned. “Why aren’t you talking to anyone here?” she asks. “I like reading this magazine, it’s a good one,” I say simply. I again glance around the room and add “They all look a little.....off. They don’t seem trustworthy. They might take my purse.” Claudia frowns, looks around the room, and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everyone seems genuinely nice here. Come with me, let’s go talk to one of them.” She takes my arm and I jerk it back. “I don’t want to. Stop trying to force me to do things I don’t want to,” I say angrily.
I turn back to my magazine and I hear Claudia inhale once, and exhale once. Then she sits down across from me and just looks at me until I finally look up. “Mom, this is something I think will really help you. I’ve already made sure the people here are good people. Can you at least try it? I want to see you well Mom, and this might help you get even better.” I see tears swelling up in her eyes so I quickly put down the magazine and earnestly say, “Of course. I’ll do it for you dear. Absolutely.”
After Claudia and I arrange to have her pick me up in an hour, I make my way over to a woman wearing a sweater and supportive gym shoes. I walk up to her and compliment her sweater, saying “What a lovely pattern. Where did you get it?” She looks down, thinking with a frown on her face, and finally says, “I can’t say I remember.” She now looks less serious and starts chuckling, with me joining her after a beat or two.
We continue talking and she tells me her name is Janet. We talk about everything from our backgrounds to our hobbies to our families. She explains that her dear niece Holly has basically acted as her primary caretaker ever since she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a year ago. I myself talk about Claudia and how she’s always been by my side since I was diagnosed more than two years ago. I pause then go on to hesitantly say, “Sometimes I wish Claudia would stop worrying. This thing, this devil of a disease isn’t going to ease up. I just wish she would quit trying to stop it. She should spend more time with her own family. She needs to stop trying to save my memory, and make some of her own.” Janet responds with a thoughtful head nod.
Janet gets picked up by Holly soon after our little talk. I look around the room and see that everyone is already talking to someone else so I go out into the hallway. The support group is just one room out of many in the large two story building. I slowly make my way upstairs to find an equally large hallway in front of me. I hear faint singing coming from what seems like a few doors ahead of me and start making my way towards it. I peer into the open door and find an acapella group practicing a song I’ve never heard before. I walk into the room and sit in a seat at the back across from the group. They have gone silent, so I finally say, “Oh don’t mind me dears.” The young woman standing in front of the group smiles at me and then says, “Start back up again at the second verse guys.”
Beautiful. This group is absolutely amazing. I clap when they finish the song and they smile at me. Suddenly, a panicked Kristy from the support group peers into the room and looks relieved when she spots me. She walks up to the group and I vaguely hear her say, “I’m so sorry if we interrupted your practice. Martha has Alzheimer’s and wandered off.” One of the group members responds, “Not to worry. We know there’s an Alzheimer’s support group downstairs and we were going to let you know after she listened to one song.” Kristy smiles and thanks them again for being so understanding. Understanding of what? Then she walks up to me and says, “Hello Miss Martha. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” “Oh I’ve just been here, listening,” I reply. Kristy then says more seriously, “Just let me know if you’re going somewhere. Don’t just wander off. I was really worried about you.” People seem to be doing a lot of worrying over me.
We walk back downstairs and I see a woman in her late forties waiting by the main door of the building, holding my fluffy winter coat. “Kristy, stop her! She’s trying to take my coat!” The woman doesn’t move, but rather a sad shock comes across her face. I look over to Kristy and see that instead of stopping the woman with my coat, she puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “It’s okay Martha. This is your daughter Claudia. She has your coat because she came to pick you up from support group.” I look back over to the woman. I don’t even have a daughter. I grab Kristy’s arm and take a few steps back, explaining to her, “She is not my daughter. I don’t have any children, and I’m not leaving with a stranger. Please get my coat back.” Kristy just looks at me sadly for a second and then finally walks up to the woman. They speak in a low voice, too low for me to hear them.
Oh. There’s Claudia. “Claudia, time to leave already?”
“Mom, are you ready for your appointment with Dr. Walters?” says my daughter Claudia. I look over to find her dressed in her boots and wool coat for the chilling winter air, confused as to what she is talking about. “What appointment Claudia?” My hardly fazed daughter runs upstairs, grabs my coat and comes back downstairs before I even find my pocket calendar. As she helps me put it on, she quickly explains, “You have an appointment with Dr. Walters today so he can see how you’re doing with the Alzheimer’s.” “Oh yes, yes I know dear. We better get going,” I reply.
As we enter the waiting room of the doctor’s office, I am struck by the beautiful wallpaper in the waiting room, the intricate detail and pattern. I tug on Claudia’s coat sleeve, pointing at the wall and saying “Oh just look at that Claudia, isn’t it beautiful?” Claudia absent-mindedly replies, “Yes Mom, it’s gorgeous, just as it’s been for the past three years.” “Hello Martha, how are you doing today?” asks a kind-faced receptionist as I pass her. “How do you know my name? Have we met before?” I ask, confused as to who she is. Claudia chimes in, “This is Patricia, Mom. You’ve known her for three years now, ever since you’ve been coming here for your appointments.” “Oh, hello then Patricia,” I say while tentatively smiling and quickly shaking her hand, possibly too firmly considering she stretched it afterwards.
Claudia and I sit in the waiting room for my appointment to start. Suddenly, I realize the familiarity of the environment again and lean over to Claudia and say, “I hope Dr. Walters tells me my Alzheimer’s is getting better. I think it has been better, don’t you hun?” Claudia gives me a sad smile, takes my hand, and says, “You’ve been handling it well Mom. You’re strong.” “It’s because I have you dear,” I smile and say back.
Fifteen more minutes pass when a nurse finally comes out and calls my name to see Dr. Walters. We head back into the examination room and find him already there, typing away on his computer. When he sees us enter, he gives us a big smile and gets out of his chair. He takes my hands and asks, “How’s my strong Martha been doing these past three months?” “She’s been working through it Dr. Walters, I can assure you of that,” I reply with a smile. I settle down in a chair next to Claudia while he pulls out my files and quickly reviews them. Then he says, “I’m going to ask you a series of questions Martha. Some of them may seem silly but stay with me alright? What’s your name?” “Martha Harris” “Who do you live with?” “I live alone but Claudia comes over often.” He continues to ask general questions about my life when he finally starts asking about my Alzheimer’s. “How long have you had Alzheimer’s?” “I think it started two years ago.” Dr. Walters tries to inconspicuously look over at Claudia, making me realize that I’ve probably had it for longer than two years. He goes on to ask, “How often do you find yourself forgetting things in the present time?” “I usually forget what I’m doing or don’t recognize things maybe two times a day.” Once again, I see Dr. Walters throw a curious look over to Claudia. Finally, he gently says, “Claudia called me before the appointment and told me that you have lapses of memory about four to five times a day, some lapses not as severe as others. You don’t always remember these, do you?” I look down at my hands and have to say, “No, I guess I don’t.” Dr. Walters pauses for a moment and thinks about what to do next......
.....She’s unfortunately getting worse, showing the natural progression of Alzheimer’s. Three years ago, she had shown signs of common dementia. When it first progressed, I took a brain image to see if I could pinpoint a visible abnormality related to the disease, such as a stroke, tumor, or trauma. I found nothing of the sort. Ever since that first appointment, she’s gotten much worse, portraying the common progressive nature of Alzheimer’s. Now, at 70 years old, she’s having more severe lapses of memory more often. She’s thinner now too, she must be forgetting to eat quite often. I’ll have to make a note of that for her daughter. Before the appointment, Claudia called in and let me know that Martha is getting worse before her eyes, even though Martha herself doesn’t realize it. She told me that Martha looses things all the time and forgets people and places she’s been familiar with for some quite a while. It’s awfully disheartening to see, for both Martha and Claudia.
I want to measure her increased severity of the disease. I take out a magazine and tell Martha, “I’m going to point at specific objects in the magazine, and I want you to tell me what they are called. Sound good?” She nods her head and straightens her posture, readying herself for the test. I point over to a bicycle, and with ease, she gives the correct noun. Then I point to a chimney, and once again, she responds with ease. I find a picture of a lawnmower and point to it, realizing a few beats later that Martha is unable to recite the name of the object. She stares at it for a bit, squinting her eyes and showing great focus. Finally, she shakes her head and says that she just can’t think of the right word. I proceed to tell her it is a lawnmower and she quickly nods her head and says, “Yes of course, of course. Obviously.” We continue this for about two more minutes, and in that time, she recited a majority of the nouns correctly. This is still worse than normal memories, but it helps me deduce that her Alzheimer’s isn’t as bad as I initially thought.
I also want to test her thinking and reasoning abilities, so I decide to ask her a few mathematics questions. We start off with basic addition and subtraction. She proves to handle that very well, naturally taking more time on questions involving larger numbers. As we begin multiplication and division, however, she has an inability to understand the abstract concept of dividing two numbers. In general, I found that people of her age would typically have trouble with multiplication and division, but would remember the concept after going through a few examples. Martha, however, is unable to grasp these concepts entirely.
I want to get a general idea of her neurological health so I decide to test her reflexes, muscle tone and strength, her ability to get up from a chair and walk across the room, coordination, and balance. People with Alzheimer’s usually have lower coordination. These tests help me see that Martha is no exception considering she needs to constantly grab near furniture, Claudia, or myself to remain balanced when trying to walk in a straight line.
From these examinations, it seems to me that unfortunately, Martha’s disease has worsened a bit from her last appointment three months ago. I don’t want her to be completely dependent on Claudia because I know how hard that would be for both of them. Therefore, I decide to put her on Memantine, a drug that works in a brain cell communication network and slows the progression of her moderate symptoms. I could have put her on Cholinesterase inhibitors, but I don’t want her to deal with the side effects of diarrhea, nausea, and sleep disturbances at her age. I remind her that while these drugs will not necessarily “cure” her Alzheimer’s, they will help with her frustrating memory symptoms. I’ll check next appointment to see if the Memantine is working well for her. I really hope it helps, Martha is a lovely person....
I squint at the prescription of Memantine, praying that it’ll keep my memory working. I do not want Claudia to have to give up even more of her life to make sure I’m not out of my wits. And I’m definitely not having another stranger take care of me, no sir it’s not that time for me. Oh please God, let the Memantine work.
From all the tests Dr. Walters performed, I can understand that my symptoms have gotten worse, even before he tells me, “Unfortunately, Martha, I have to let you know your symptoms did get a bit worse compared to your last visit. Aside from the prescription, I want you to think about seeking support services now, rather than lat--. I interpret him, sternly stating “I’m not going into a home Dr. Walters. I don’t need that. My memory isn’t that bad.” I feel Claudia take my hand. Dr. Walters gives a sad half-smile and says, “I don’t think you need it yet either. What I’m suggesting is a sort of social support network or counseling. Interacting with people who know what you’re going through, people you can freely talk about Alzheimer’s with. I’ve found that these groups do well for the mental and emotional well-being of patients.” I consider this. It’s really not a bad idea. I’m not dependent on any of these people. They’re just there to talk and interact with. Doesn’t seem too bad at all. “Yes, this sounds like something I could try.” Dr. Walters looks pleased and hands me a sheet of paper with the phone number of the organization called “Center for Smiles.” I return home and get ready for bed, hoping to dream sweet dreams of memory, Memantine, and smiles.
The morning sun shines, so I get up and start cooking breakfast. I was watching The Food Network the other day and saw the most delicious-looking French toast being made. I think I’ll make some now for myself and give some to Claudia when she comes around. Now where did I put that recipe I wrote down? I walk over to the countertop next to the sink and check it. Nothing. Maybe on the other side of the sink. Still nothing. I might’ve put it under the sink when I was in a hurry last time, but when I open it, I find nothing but cleaning supplies. I walk back over to the stove and scratch my head. Where can the darn thing be? I keep staring at the stove when I suddenly remember the recipe is in the drawer next to the stove. Of course, of course, that’s where I keep my other cookbooks. I pull out the recipe and begin reading. There are too many steps, and some of the materials start jumbling in my head as I read. Just look at one step at a time. I walk over to the top cabinet to get a mixing bowl. Or did it say measuring cup? Was it asking for both? I just read it! I stomp back to the recipe and take another look at the instructions. Mixing bowl, just as I thought.
After some time, I have finally gathered everything I need for the French toast. I grab the large pan I took out earlier and quickly rinse and dry it with a paper towel. I add a small piece of butter to the surface of the pan and set it delicately on the burner of the stove. I go downstairs to get my cooking timer and apron and come back to a burning smell in the kitchen. Oh gosh what did I do! I quickly get over to the stove and find that I left the paper towel I used for drying in the pan while the burner was on. If it’s not on fire, why is it making that smell? Should I take off the paper towel right now? But the burner is still on. Oh it might catch fire any second! Finally, I turn the burner off, grab the handle of the pan and dump the towel into the sink, watching the charred paper product leave small hints of smoke.
I stand over the sink for thirty more seconds, giving myself a chance to catch up with what just happened. I notice that the pan is still in my hand, and I slam it into the sink, making a loud metal-crashing sound. I stand over the sink for a few more seconds when I hear a knock on the back door. Claudia. After a second, I walk over to the door and unlock it, turning right back around as soon as I do. Claudia urgently walks in, quickly asking “What was that sound? It was like metal.” “It was nothing of importance,” I snap back. I already ruined the French toast before I could even make it. This shouldn’t be that difficult, I used to cook all the time! I can feel my heart starting to accelerate. I look over to Claudia and find her still standing there, looking at me curiously. She finally asks, “Were you trying to cook something Mom?” “Oh never mind that, just leave it alone” I snap again. This time, I could see Claudia flinch. “What’s the matter,” I ask gently. After a beat or two, she responds, “Mom it’s ok. Despite whatever might’ve happened, just calm down.” Doesn’t she see I am calm? “Didn’t I say to leave it alone? I’m fine,” I once again reply.
Looking tired, Claudia changes the subject: “Are you ready for support group, Mom? We should get going soon.” I squint, trying to remember the date. Today’s not the 18th of January, is it? “I think you’re mistaken Claudia, the appointment’s not until the 23rd of January. Today’s just the 18th.” Claudia gently replies, “No Mom today’s the 24th of January, and the support group starts up again today.” Today’s really the 24th? “There’s no way Claudia, check again.” Without double checking, Claudia replies, “I’m positive Mom, we should get going soon.” Why can’t she just check? “Well I don’t want to go. You can go without me.” Looking surprised, Claudia responds with “It’s not for me Mom, it’s for you. And in Dr. Walters’ office, you were saying the group sounded like something you could try.” “Well I changed my mind,” I respond simply. Claudia just stands there for a second or two before responding, “Mom, I really think this could help you. Can you just try it today? Please. For me?” I look at her face and immediately respond, “Well of course honey, I might as well try it.”
As we walk into the building, I see other elderly men and women accompanied with what seems like children of their own. The main lobby is neat and tidy, rid of excess furniture, clutter, and rugs. When we were passing the stairs, there were handrails against all of the walls. I go to the restroom and there isn’t even a mirror available at the sink. This place has done their homework. Why didn’t Claudia want me to come here?
When I come back to the main area for the group, I see some people sitting near the television, watching the news. I overhear people talking about everything from their other family members to old jobs to travel experiences. Then I see Claudia talking to a young lady in more formal wear. Must be the social group leader, and I can see her name tag says Kristy. I look back nervously at the group and notice an empty sitting area in the far corner of the room. I grab a magazine and start reading it there.
After some time passes, Claudia finds me and looks concerned. “Why aren’t you talking to anyone here?” she asks. “I like reading this magazine, it’s a good one,” I say simply. I again glance around the room and add “They all look a little.....off. They don’t seem trustworthy. They might take my purse.” Claudia frowns, looks around the room, and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everyone seems genuinely nice here. Come with me, let’s go talk to one of them.” She takes my arm and I jerk it back. “I don’t want to. Stop trying to force me to do things I don’t want to,” I say angrily.
I turn back to my magazine and I hear Claudia inhale once, and exhale once. Then she sits down across from me and just looks at me until I finally look up. “Mom, this is something I think will really help you. I’ve already made sure the people here are good people. Can you at least try it? I want to see you well Mom, and this might help you get even better.” I see tears swelling up in her eyes so I quickly put down the magazine and earnestly say, “Of course. I’ll do it for you dear. Absolutely.”
After Claudia and I arrange to have her pick me up in an hour, I make my way over to a woman wearing a sweater and supportive gym shoes. I walk up to her and compliment her sweater, saying “What a lovely pattern. Where did you get it?” She looks down, thinking with a frown on her face, and finally says, “I can’t say I remember.” She now looks less serious and starts chuckling, with me joining her after a beat or two.
We continue talking and she tells me her name is Janet. We talk about everything from our backgrounds to our hobbies to our families. She explains that her dear niece Holly has basically acted as her primary caretaker ever since she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a year ago. I myself talk about Claudia and how she’s always been by my side since I was diagnosed more than two years ago. I pause then go on to hesitantly say, “Sometimes I wish Claudia would stop worrying. This thing, this devil of a disease isn’t going to ease up. I just wish she would quit trying to stop it. She should spend more time with her own family. She needs to stop trying to save my memory, and make some of her own.” Janet responds with a thoughtful head nod.
Janet gets picked up by Holly soon after our little talk. I look around the room and see that everyone is already talking to someone else so I go out into the hallway. The support group is just one room out of many in the large two story building. I slowly make my way upstairs to find an equally large hallway in front of me. I hear faint singing coming from what seems like a few doors ahead of me and start making my way towards it. I peer into the open door and find an acapella group practicing a song I’ve never heard before. I walk into the room and sit in a seat at the back across from the group. They have gone silent, so I finally say, “Oh don’t mind me dears.” The young woman standing in front of the group smiles at me and then says, “Start back up again at the second verse guys.”
Beautiful. This group is absolutely amazing. I clap when they finish the song and they smile at me. Suddenly, a panicked Kristy from the support group peers into the room and looks relieved when she spots me. She walks up to the group and I vaguely hear her say, “I’m so sorry if we interrupted your practice. Martha has Alzheimer’s and wandered off.” One of the group members responds, “Not to worry. We know there’s an Alzheimer’s support group downstairs and we were going to let you know after she listened to one song.” Kristy smiles and thanks them again for being so understanding. Understanding of what? Then she walks up to me and says, “Hello Miss Martha. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” “Oh I’ve just been here, listening,” I reply. Kristy then says more seriously, “Just let me know if you’re going somewhere. Don’t just wander off. I was really worried about you.” People seem to be doing a lot of worrying over me.
We walk back downstairs and I see a woman in her late forties waiting by the main door of the building, holding my fluffy winter coat. “Kristy, stop her! She’s trying to take my coat!” The woman doesn’t move, but rather a sad shock comes across her face. I look over to Kristy and see that instead of stopping the woman with my coat, she puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “It’s okay Martha. This is your daughter Claudia. She has your coat because she came to pick you up from support group.” I look back over to the woman. I don’t even have a daughter. I grab Kristy’s arm and take a few steps back, explaining to her, “She is not my daughter. I don’t have any children, and I’m not leaving with a stranger. Please get my coat back.” Kristy just looks at me sadly for a second and then finally walks up to the woman. They speak in a low voice, too low for me to hear them.
Oh. There’s Claudia. “Claudia, time to leave already?”