This past weekend my grandmother's roommate passed on to the positive side of heaven and earth. It was sad to visit last night and notice how empty and still it was on her side of the room. The experience left my grandmother shaken and confused. When I arrived my grandmother was looking for her mother. I stayed with her a little longer than usual and even crawled into her bed and laid down with her. I hugged on her, loved on her and spoke in her ear to try and give her (and myself) some comfort.It was a difficult decision my mother faced when placing Grandmother into this facility for her medical and day to day care. The first night I stayed with her and silently cried throughout the night listening to the sounds and seeing how the light fell into her room. She was safe here, but it was hard to leave her here without one of us present. The facility is clean and bright, the nursing staff is extremely professional, the aides respectful, positive and some are very loving to their patients. However, to borrow from Dorothy, "there's no place like home." On a personal level, it's difficult because from the moment you walk through the front door you are facing your own mortality.
My mom visits my grandmother every day. My sister comes from out of town and stays for weeks and spends entire days with her. My daughter and I visit her every Saturday and Sunday. We try to go for Bingo when she feels like playing or afternoon church services on Sunday.
My mom visits my grandmother every day. My sister comes from out of town and stays for weeks and spends entire days with her. My daughter and I visit her every Saturday and Sunday. We try to go for Bingo when she feels like playing or afternoon church services on Sunday.
In this weekly ritual, we have inadvertently gotten to know some of the other residents. There is the stripper at the end of one hall - she strips in the doorway of her room every night at 7:00pm. It is said she targets the thirtysomething male charge nurse who works the weekend shift. There is a klepto - who steals shoes, stuffed animals, candy bars, mardi gras beads and newspapers and only she knows what else. I guess it gives her a little bit of power in the world she lives in. There are also those who count cards at Bingo and will vehemently complain if they feel someone has an unfair advantage. In all fairness, my grandmother is a butt pincher. It's her way of showing affection to those she cares abouts (I inherited this habit from her). We tried to warn the staff and luckily they laugh and do not take offense. And then there are those who are sadly lost in their own world.
The week my grandmother arrived, a sweet gentleman was stationed across the hall from her room. He introduced himself as Arthur Wright and proudly congratulated us "You have finally found Mr. (W)right." He shook our hands and told us that he would check on Grandmother for us. We were tickled to say the least. The next week when we visited I couldn't wait to greet him "Hi, Mr. Wright - I finally found you!" And he looked at me with an unsure almost angry gaze like he had never seen me before. When he dawned on me that he didn't remember our conversation I realized that not only was he not Mr. Right, but that he wouldn't be checking on Grandmother either.
One day he was confused and asked me to help him find the restroom, I pointed him in the direction of his room and he said "No, that's the ladies restroom, I can't go in there." An aide overheard us and gently guided him into his room. The next visit I spotted a huge sign on his bathroom door - with a drawing of a toilet and the words "BATHROOM HERE" displayed in large letters. Another day, he got mom to verify the name on the door was his wife's name because he said the woman in the bed was too old to be his wife and showed mom the photo of young Mrs. Wright in her 20s. Other days, he was back in the hall welcoming us and reminding us that if we needed anything, we had found Mr. Right - he could help us on our way.
His forgetfulness prepared us for the days when Grandmother would endure the same confusion. It may have really worried me if it didn't provide some comfort to me that at least she wasn't the only one - in a sense they were all on the same journey together.
Shortly after, I had a conversation with my mom and some friends about a list of characteristics that I would prefer if I were to start dating again. That's easy I told them "Kindness has to be at the top of the list - outgoing, fun, smart, financially stable, spiritual, everything else is just icing on the proverbial cake." "So," one of my friends replied, "you are looking for Mr. Right?" "No, not quite," I said, "because I've met the Mr. (W)right and he's down at the nursing home and can't find the bathroom. Mr. Right is just a figment of the female imagination."
On a weeknight visit to see Grandmother, I noticed Mr. Wright was not out in the hall, but strangely his wife, Sallie, whom I had never seen out of her hospital bed was up walking around their room. Mr. Wright looked like he had fallen back on the bed - he was just laying there taking a nap. It's like their energy sources had swapped bodies.
We visited Grandmother and as I came out I noticed he was still in the same position. As I approached the nursing station to tell them a team of EMT's passed me in the hall and turned down the hall towards Grandmother's room. I grabbed my daughter's hand and rushed back to Grandmother. I knew that she was okay, but I had to go back to visually check on him. They had stopped at his room and were checking his vitals. We gave Grandmother one last kiss, worriedly glanced into his room and left.
I called my mom from the car crying. I knew something was wrong with sweet Mr. Wright. I told her how worried I was about him. I was surprised at the tears streaming across my cheeks, I never dreamed that I would get so attached to him or any of these people. But I was. I couldn't stop thinking about the first night I met him. How great would it be to walk up to a guy and him say "Congratulations, you have met Mr. Right..." if only it could be so easy.
My mom called me the next day with the news, Mr. Wright had died. He probably already had passed to that positive side of heaven and earth when I saw him laying back on his bed. I sure hope it was peaceful. I said a silent prayer and just quickly thanked God for allowing me the chance to meet Mr. (W)right - if only briefly. The stripper, the klepto, the butt pincher, the bingo police and the lost who live in that space all hold their special places in my heart.
Every weekend when I visit Grandmother, I can't help but picture him standing stationed just across the hall outside her door. And thanks to this sweet man who could never remember our names, he gave me a hope I can't describe just because he verbalized that maybe it could be possible. Thanks to him I will never stop looking for the outstreched hand of Mr. Right.
