As an Alzheimer's patient deteriorates, her caregivers struggle with their emotions.
Angel in the Details
“She's asking for you.”
“For me, me? Or for him?”
“For him. Don't plan on spending too much time in there, okay? There's a lot to do tonight. ”
“I know. Let me just see what she wants. I won't be long.”
As floor nurse on the night shift, Carla had to schedule everything with minimal resources, personnel included. She had been generous in the amount of time that she allowed him to spend with this one patient. He was aware of that, and that there was plenty of work to be done. But Carla knew that it helped, and she favored anything that was good for her patients.
Fortunately, the other residents here mostly slept through the night. Mrs. Gorman did not. He opened the door and stepped inside.
A smile spread quickly across the lined face, seeming to erase a decade or so from her 88 years. “Johnny,” she said. “I knew you'd come tonight. You were here last night, too. Weren't you?”
It was a hospital style bed, mechanical, and she had the head raised so that she was almost sitting up. The television and radio were off, as they always were.
“Hello, Mother. Yes, I was here last night.”
“Come here and give me a kiss.”
He moved to the bed and kissed her on the forehead.
“How long have you been a doctor, Johnny? It seems like it was just yesterday when you were in medical school.”
“It seems that way to me, too.”
“You were such a good student. All through grade school and high school, and then at Harvard. Do you have any idea have proud of you I am?”
“I owe it all to you, Mother.”
“How would you like to brush my hair? You know, like you used to do when you were little. Do you remember that?”
“Sure I do.”
The sterling silver brush, along with the matching comb and mirror, sat on her night table. He knew they were expensive, and were among the few touches of elegance that were left to her. She did keep herself fixed nicely, with her hair brushed and fresh lipstick. He admired that, but he also knew that it was just a matter of time before it ceased. Of course, everything was just a matter of time when you got right down to it. And time had taken its toll on the bed jacket she was wearing, a silver brocade which seemed right with her silver hair. The bed jacket must have also lent elegance to her appearance in earlier days. But now it was old.
Picking up the brush, he ran it gently through her hair, which always seemed to curl right into place.
“When you were a little boy, you would always ask me if you could do this. You wanted to because you liked it. I never had to ask you.” Her mood had shifted quickly, and tears welled in her eyes. “Remember how you used to ask me?”
“Of course I do, Mother.”
“Back then, you used to call me Mommy. Remember?”
He didn't like calling her Mommy. It was just hard for him to say the word, although he didn't know why. It was such a small thing to make her feel better.
“I remember that. I still like to do it, Mommy.”
That cheered her up, and the smile returned.
“You were always such a good boy. Not like your brother. Have you talked to Michael?” A mere three sentences and her tone had changed again, from sullen to hopeful.
“As a matter of fact I have. I talked to him this afternoon. He says he's coming to see you this weekend.” He laid the brush down as he spoke.
“Is that it? You're not leaving already, are you?”
“I'm afraid I have to. I have to check on my patients, you know.”
“Of course you do. My son, the doctor. I'm so proud. Will you come back to see me later?”
“I will. As soon as I can.”
She turned her gaze to the television. As he closed the door, he took a look back. She didn't look at him, but simply stared at the dark box as if there was actually a program playing. In her mind he was gone as soon as he turned to leave. But she was smiling. Maybe it would be a good night. A few feet from the door, he saw Carla coming his way.
“How did she seem to you?” Carla asked.
“Not bad except for a couple of quick mood swings. It seems to be getting worse. That part, I mean.”
“It would be helpful to know. Maybe you can make your rounds and then stop in and see her again. I’ll ask Joel to help out. He can take 15 through 18.”
It had gone smoothly, and two hours later he returned to check on her. Cracking the door a bit to make sure she had not managed to fall asleep, he glanced in and saw her in the same position.
“Michael! You're here.”
He disliked this. In the past he had pretended to be Michael, but he never knew when she might realize that he wasn't and revert to calling him Johnny.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Oh, Johnny. It's you. I thought you were Michael. Is he with you? I thought he was coming to see me today.”
“No, not today. He should be here this weekend.”
“Would you like to brush my hair? I know it must look a mess right now. I've been waiting for you because I knew you'd want to do it.”
He worked the brush slowly, even though it seemed he could brush until her scalp bled and she would just want him to keep going.
“Why does Michael hate me so much?”
“He doesn't hate you.”
“Then why doesn't he come to visit me?”
“He's very busy. You know that.”
“Oh, I forgot. What does he do? Tell me again.”
“He's a business man. He runs a very big company.”
“Michael travels a lot, doesn't he?”
He laid the brush down. “Yes, he travels all over the world.”
“That's why he can't come see me. Are you through brushing my hair?”
“Yes, it looks perfect.”
“Johnny, do you remember your father?”
“Sure I do.”
“He's dead, isn't he?”
“Yes, Father passed.”
“How long ago?”
“Ten years now, I think.”
“What happened to him?”
“He just got old, and his heart stopped. He had a good life.”
The tears returned. “My Robert, gone so long now. I thought he was here yesterday. Who was here?”
“That was me.”
“You remember him, don't you?”
“Sure I do.”
“I do, too. Like he was just here. He always got along with Michael. No one else did. That boy just had a nose for trouble. Remember when he broke the glass in the hutch? Along with my grandmother’s china serving dishes. Playing ball in the house is what did it. He knew better. I wanted you to have a big brother who would take care of you and be a good role model. But that wasn't Michael. That stubbornness of his kept him in trouble. And Robert never would back me up! Always taking Michael’s side on everything. How was I supposed to do anything with him if Robert wouldn’t back me up? Those two were like buddies, when Robert needed to be a father. I needed help!”
“Shhh, not so loud, Mommy. It's okay. Michael turned out fine. And he's coming to see you this weekend.”
“I don’t understand why!”
“Mother, you can’t yell like that. You don’t want to upset the patients, do you? There are a lot of sick people in here.”
“Why?”
“Because this is where they come when they get sick. You know that.”
“Then why am I here. When do I get to go home? Take me home, Johnny. Now! I want to go home!”
Carla appeared at the door. “I’ll get you some help.”
“No. I can do it. Just give me a minute.” He picked up the brush again. “Let’s brush your hair, Mommy. I can’t take you home right now. I have patients to see. Besides, this is a nice room, don’t you think?”
She stopped mid-sentence and looked around. “Yes, it’s a very nice room. “Whose room is this? Tell me again.”
He wasn’t prepared for that question. “Well, let’s just say it’s your room for tonight.”
“Do you remember your father?”
“Yes, I remember him very well.”
“What color were his eyes?”
He had no idea, but decided to take a shot. “They were brown.”
“Oh, that’s right. He had brown eyes. I remember.”
“Yes, and he loved you very much.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure. He never stopped loving you.”
“Then why did he divorce me?”
“What?”
“Why did he divorce me? He divorced me when Michael was 14, and he took Michael with him. They left me all alone.”
“I don’t remember that, Mommy.”
“I do. I remember everything. Except…except…I don’t remember who you are! Leave me alone!” She began to cry, at the same time tugging on her sheet and blanket until she had pulled them loose. “Get out of here. I don’t know you. Get out!” Jerking the covers to one side in an effort to free herself, she knocked the brush and mirror to the floor. The glass shattered with a sound like small bells ringing.
“Please calm down. Don’t yell.”
A sound that started as guttural, almost primal, became a wail of pain. “I don’t know you, leave me alone!”
He was backing toward the door when it opened. Carla came in with the other two orderlies who were on duty with him that night.
“Go on,” she told him. “Let us handle it from here.
“You know what happens...how this progresses. It’s my fault, Brady. I should never have let you get this close.” They were in the break room, and Carla was trying to cheer him up.
“I thought I could help her. Pretty stupid of me.”
“You did help her. You did. You help them all. You’re good at your job.”
“Which part? Bathing them? Changing their sheets, or their diapers? It doesn’t matter what I do. They just get worse, and then they die.”
“That’s just as true for me and for the doctors. All any of us can do is make them more comfortable. Does it matter what we do?”
He was silent for a minute, thinking it over. “It’s all we have isn’t it? Give them a little peace of mind at the end. I think I could have made it last a little longer for her if I could have just kept it all straight, all the details. I didn’t know she was divorced. I mean, that part sounded true . Don’t you think?”
“We had no way to know, but yes, I think that was real. You can’t blame yourself. We don’t even know if there was a John Gorman. Michael is real, but he doesn’t see her. And you can’t keep the details straight when they keep changing, and when we don’t know which ones are real. A little peace at the end, that’s all any of us can offer. Just don’t get too close.”
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Reviewed by Lesley Gresham
5/3/2014
Great story. The reality of what happens in old age for so many is hard to deal with but people need help as long as they're alive and I'm glad there are those who can do it.
Reviewed by Jess Jordan
3/18/2014
I read Angel in the Details and thought it was wonderful writing.
Reviewed by Leta Edge
3/18/2014
Sad but true. As our family members age & pass we are all confronted by our own emotions and fears of loss.
I know that you have some experience with this. That's probably why it is so realistic and sheds light on a problem that seems to be growing. My grandmother had Alzheimer's starting at 85. At her 85th birthday party, she was able to listen in on three conversations going on around her and comment on all of them. She read all the books in at least three libraries.
After that birthday, she deteriorated and my uncle put her in a nursing hospital. She grew ever more religious, perhaps reverting to a safer place, dogma she learned at an early age. Early on when I visited her in the hospital, she knew me and even jumped up on a stool--she wasn't supposed to--and got me something he wanted to show me. Later, she just stared with her cataract eyes and smiled, eating when she was fed. My uncle said she seemed to have a purpose… When she died, at 90, my father and another brother reconciled… Perhaps that was her purpose for holding on so long.
I don't think it was all that enjoyable, although it was very readable and written well. I thought it was very realistic and very sad. The story pained me. It delved deeply into the problem of old age and dying and loss of memory, loss of everything in days to come.
Rovella is a beautiful woman with a cold heart whom blames herself for an unfortunate old family secret that is literally ruining her life. This secret impedes a gorgeous woman from having happiness in her childhood, and throughout her life. Dark sec
