Easter In Geriatric Land

The weeks leading up to Easter here at the continuum care complex were slow and boring if you’re not a Christian who took part in all the related activities that goes on between Lent and Easter---Ash Wednesday, the faith movies and book discussions, doing the stations of the cross and the Good Friday service. It’s like there’s an alternate universe and the one I’m living in had only three Easter related things on the schedule: Fat Tuesday, an Easter Buffet and an Easter egg hunt for grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Easter weekend was mostly fun though. Friday my niece brought her three youngest grandkids to the Easter egg hunt that took place inside the fenced garden park in between our assisted living and memory care buildings. It’s a pretty area about the size of a half a football field. It was a warm, sunny day just perfect for the residents to sit outside in the center of the park and watch the kids. The kids from my family made quite the haul, the youngest finding 28 plastic eggs filled with candy. She’s four years old and her mom asked her to go give some of her eggs to the smaller kids in attendance and she did without a whimper or protest. She such a cute little girl. When she was in the car ready to leave she said to me, “It was nice to see you again, Aunt Jean.” I’ve seen this little girl less than a dozen times in her entire life---they live far away---so I was shocked by her words until I realized her mother had said them to me just a few minutes beforehand. Still…

Two days after the hunt my brother was still obsessing that his daughter lost her grandchildren and is trying to cover it up and he was going to call the police on her. We all know you’re not supposed to argue with people with dementia but that’s easier said than done sometimes. The two of them fought over the phone a couple of times, so I went down to his building, hoping I could calm him down and get to the source of his dilution. I did the latter. Apparently when we were all sitting in a circle watching the kids my niece made a comment about not seeing the kids while they were all looking for eggs and that was enough to accuse her of losing the kids and driving off without them. No among of me telling him I saw the kids leaving in the car calmed him down. Me trying to explain there was no way for them to get out of that park to get lost because you need a code to get in or out of the area calmed him down. “I heard her say it with my own ears!” he told me before he accused me of always taking her side. “I’m not taking anyone’s side,” I replied. “I’m trying to explain how you’re taking a grain of sand and building a mountain out of it.” And for the first time since he’s lived in the CCC I felt myself getting mad at him. Breaking things down into logical bites wasn’t working and I knew better than to expect it would. He isn’t capable of nuanced thinking, of understanding my niece's off handed remark in an enclosed garden isn't the same as saying it in downtown Chicago with tears streaming down her cheeks. Still, I've always thought of myself as a peacemaker when things are heating up around me, of the person who could deescalate touchy situations. In this case, I lost my patience and walked out of his room.

I don’t know which is the worst fate of Senior living---losing your mental sharpness or your physical mobility. At the Easter buffet (served on Friday) I was seated across the table from a guy who had an operation on his neck and he was in a clam-shell brace from his neck to his belly. He’s one of my favorite residents here and it was his first time eating in the dining room since the surgery. His wife (I believe) made a mistake bringing him there and an even bigger one feeding him like a baby bird while his friends came over to welcome him back. I could read the growing anger in his eyes as she’d say things like, “How about a carrot? You like carrots.” At one point the kitchen manager came out, stood over him and forked food into his mouth so his wife could eat. After living with a guy who was non-verbal for over twelve years I got pretty good at reading body and facial language and I read “thoroughly embarrassed and extremely angry” sitting across the table that night.

On holidays they never serve any meals here at the CCC and I got an invitation to have dinner with four other ladies here and all I had to bring was a bottle of wine. My kind of invitation since I never did cook well or often enough to have confidence in what I’m doing. (For years, my contribution to holiday meals was a marinated four bean salad. If my mom and sister-in-laws were alive today I’d apologize to them all for me letting them do all the heavy, holiday lifting.) 

All four of these ladies I spent Easter day with are liberal democrats and three of us play Mahjong together so I’m thinking it’s time to start calling them ‘friends’ instead of fellow residents. We had plenty to talk about. Three of the ladies are also in my book club and we are reading The Handmaid's Tale. Given what's going on in our country right now regarding woman's reproductive rights, it should be an interesting discussion. ©

 * Photo at the top is part of the park where the Easter egg took place.