The Last Stop

TMWSAB Ch 3

2011-09-14T13:24:00.000-07:00

The Man Who Swallowed a Basketball

The relentless sun glared down upon the scorched earth with a vengeance. A hot breeze rustled the newspaper of a man sitting alone beside a hotel pool. His hat tipped low, he appeared absorbed in his reading material, oblivious to the carnage occurring directly to his left.

The desert bunny had been minding his own business, intent on chewing the leaf of lettuce that had recently escaped from an unattended sandwich. High in the sky there appeared a dark shadow, followed by the fierce beating of wings, suddenly the bunny was ripped away from his afternoon snack. He put up a fight, and soon the beast of the air gave up and dropped him back to the earth. Not two seconds after he landed, the dust rose and from the tussle, a Beaded Lizard emerged victorious with his OWN afternoon snack. Goodby little bunny.

The tinkle of a delicate bell gained the attention of the man and his head rose at once. Glancing toward the noise his eyes squinting against the glare of the pool water, he appeared at first alarmed, but this was soon replaced with a look of relief, as he realized the source of the sound.

Ch 2

Today Ruthie is sitting by the couch in the family room where the TV is blaring "Who wants to be a star". Her eyes are closed and she is clasping her hands together under her chin. Her clothing is askew and there is a large stain on her new bright yellow shirt. The residents are no longer allowed to wear clothing protectors at meal time. People were referring to them as 'bibs' so the facility director deemed them undignified.

An aid is speaking to a resident in another corner and suddenly Ruthies eyes fly open. "Chickie Chickie Chickie!!!.. here Chickie chickie chickie!!!" she yells! Just as suddenly her head droops back down and her hands resume their position under her chin. Today her son will visit her on his way home from work. His 10 minute visits are the only times she will respond to other people. Later when she is being prepared for bed, you can hear her yells down the hall. Her cursing would make a drunken sailor blush. Ruthie hates to be touched, and worse yet hates to stand up. After the fray dies down, lights are out and off in the distance the ringing of a tiny bell can be heard. Ruthie glances in that direction with a rare moment of coherence in her eyes, then drifts off to sleep.

The second Daves butt hit the chair the phone was ringing again. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly picked it up. His lunch had already been cut short by a call from the healthcare facility where his mother resided. Apparently a room change had been necessary after a particularly nasty outburst the previous evening. His mother Ruthie absolutely hated being messed with. Getting her in and out of her wheelchair was sure to bring violent outbursts, swinging arms and every curse word known to man screamed at the top of her voice. Her roommates son happened to be present for the most recent episode, which ended in her being transferred to a private room.

Dave answered the phone and heard his sister Eileen on the other end. He remembered he had called her earlier to set up a meeting for the family to discuss mothers current condition. Eileen sounded like she was in a hurry, as always. She was the youngest of the 3 children, married to a wall street broker, lived in downtown Manhattan and had 2 children of her own. Her children were in their teens, and there was constantly a problem or issue of some kind causing her repeated visits to her therapist and yet one more prescription for anti anxiety medications. If Eileen spent half as much time parenting her teens as she did yakking at her shrink and filling prescriptions they might not be half bad.

Dave had felt obligated to place the call earlier, even though he knew his request would be met with reluctance, excuses and an eventual denial of his sister to show up either telephonic-ally or in person to the meeting. Out of all three of the kids, Eileen was the most self absorbed, spoiled, and flighty. Her mothers favorite, she now showed her gratitude by completely ignoring the fact she even had a mother who was still breathing. The only times she was forced to acknowledge it were when her big brother Dave called her on the phone. Dave would give a half hearted attempt to get her commitment but he would always give up and often times too easily. Today was no exception and after listening to her prattle on for 5 solid minutes, he mumbled something and hung up the phone.

He sunk his head into his hands and sighed. The responsibility of overseeing mothers care had fallen upon him the middle child, almost immediately after her diagnosis and acceptance that she was too much of a burden for any of them to care for in their homes. The decision to put her in assisted living had been left solely up to him after numerous futile attempts to engage his siblings input and help. Now he was facing the most difficult of decisions since this entire mess began, and all he was getting was flak whenever he talked to them. Although talking to his older brother Bill was even more useless than Eileen, if and when he could even find him.

You see, he held a deep seated dislike for his older brother Bill. Bill had a different father than Dave and Eileen, apparently a man his mother had met before Daves father who had knocked her up and then split the scene. They were not supposed to know this information, however they could not help but overhear it being broadcast loudly by Mother, whenever father found fault with what Bill was doing. For whatever reason, Mother was fiercely protective of this man who had fathered Bill. While the rest of the world considered him scum, she revered him, stopping short of erected a shrine in his honor. This never helped much with family rapport and resentment among siblings, husband and wife grew by the year.

When Dave was just a young teenager, he was diagnosed with a rare form of pituitary gland disorder that affected his weight. He had began to grow rather large in the stomach area, and fearing a tumor, his mother had rushed him to the doctor. After many blood tests, the diagnosis was leveled, a prescription was written and Dave was told he would have to live with this for the rest of his life. Eventually his stomach developed to the point where it appeared as if he had a basket ball under his shirt. His brother rallied around him in support, the form of which consisted of constant mocking, ridicule and incessant corny jokes at Daves expense. Dave was never much of a fighter so he just let it go, held it inside and eventually learned to ignore it. Unfortunately his brother, being only a year older than he was in school, recruited his bully jock friends to join in the fun.

After they graduated and went off to college, the ridicule stopped, mostly due to maturity and adult problems that consumed each one of their lives. However Dave never forgot it, and had never forgiven his brother. He had held this collection of horrors in his mind, built and expanded upon it, and turned it into a living, breathing being that he was saving to use at just the right moment. The moment in which he, Dave would exact the revenge he had always wanted on his arrogant, son-of-a-bitch brother who in his mind, totally had it coming. Grownups or not, there would come a time when this ball of fury would be unleashed, and although Dave did not think of it often, it was there, festering in the back of his mind, lurking and laughing maniacally... everytime the thought of Bill came into his head.

The ones who are still there

2011-07-06T20:14:00.000-07:00

MS told me the other day... he told me 'they' put him here and were waiting for him to die. I asked him... how do you feel about that do you want to live? MS told me he had another 20 good years left... he's 91. He has stomach cancer. Maybe I misunderstood him.... See, I say whatever I want to them... they love it. They love real people who say it straight up. And I love them. I love their candid words, their base responses.. I love the ways they find to retain control in an otherwise uncontrollable situation.

Each time a new resident arrives that is clearly out of their mind I wonder.... how long before they have a moment of clarity and put a stop to this? How do they feel about being treated like a 2 year old? Do they like being yelled at????? "YOU STAY THERE YOU NEED TO POOP, YOU WILL SIT THERE ALL DAY UNTIL YOU POOP".

Dignity? Not.........I avoided my own Alzheimer afflicted grandmother for many many years.... and now I know why. Trapped in a mind void of useful information... trapped in a world where the past looms and the present evades. Subject to the mercy of your 'care takers'. Maybe they make you sit on the pot all day until you poop... who knows.

Why I am doing this

2011-06-29T11:11:00.000-07:00

This is the story of elderly residents in a healthcare facility. It is told through the eyes of a bored, and keenly observant employee, who was definitely NOT minding her own business. Although the names have been changed to protect the privacy of the residents, the situations, actions and words remain true.

I began writing this book on a clear trash bag with an industrial strength Sharpie in between glove changes. Cleaning has it’s perks. There is a lot of time to think, not to mention listening and watching as the stories unfold. You would be amazed at how freely the caregivers talk about the residents, and give up juicy tidbits of information.

The details will be disgusting, creepy, morbid, sad, poignant, happy, funny or just downright strange. There is much to be learned by existing among people who are facing their own mortality, yet have very little control over their last days. Some people came there to die, others to recover from surgeries or health problems. Still others live in a perpetual state of denial, believing at any time their family will come to take them away

EM

2011-06-29T10:48:00.001-07:00

E had long gray hair, a jutting chin complete with whiskers and mouth sunken in from no teeth. Top that with a witch-like nose sporting a permanent scab on the tip and you have every child's nightmare.

E spent her days cruising the halls, picking at her pet scab, and abandoning a variety of food and drinks on the handrail or in a random plant while staring into space. On a good day she had a sparkle in her eyes and would cast a sly grin your way or throw out an odd comment. E practiced the 5 second rule.. in otherwords 5 seconds after something happened, she forgot. Seems like a convenient way to survive in this place, let alone the vast wasteland that must have been her mind.

At 93 years old, E decided she had enough living and with what little decision making ability she had left, she ceased eating and drinking. In less than 5 days time E slipped peacefully away in her bed at approximately 6:15 am. E died alone, the relative close enough to arrive and collect her things just a few hours later was someone I had never seen visiting.

The last time I saw E alive she was clapping her hands and tapping her feet to The Old Time Fiddlers monthly visit. Music made E come alive... loneliness and a mindless existence made her die. I didn't get to say goodbye to E, she passed the morning I returned from my weekend. They loaded her up in a white, Toyota minivan, her frame appearing tiny under a cheerful quilt. I hear there are lots of fiddles in heaven.

E, you are missed much.

A

2011-05-29T20:30:00.000-07:00

Today, A is dying. Never the same since returning from a recent hospital stay, her once happy chatter had become weird whining noises. She could no longer enjoy her meals, or hoard all the clothing protectors. Her annoying tissue and cookie messes in her room were suddenly missed. Audrey was mottling when I left work. I held her hand,which was surprisingly warm.... she gripped mine. I glance above her bed to a corkboard covered in smiling faces of family members. I wonder why not one of them are here to hold her hand. I don't think I will see her again.