No One

Yesterday was the annual holiday party at my mom’s care home. I stopped at the bank for crisp bills to put in the Christmas cards I was giving to the staff and arrived a few minutes late. Mom was sitting at a card table with two chairs, wearing a festive red top that was her Christmas gift from the owner of the facility. I kissed her hello and took the seat across from her. Looking around, I was happy to see that no one was sitting alone and each of the residents had at least one visitor with them at their table.

It’s a weird sort of party because the visitors never seem to talk to each other, just to the loved one they’ve come to visit and to the staff. But during dessert, a slightly built older woman approached our table while my mom was in the bathroom. “You’re Dorothy’s daughter, aren’t you?” I nodded and we introduced ourselves, shaking hands. “They tell me your mother is very kind to Jenny and talks to her. Thank you.” I shrugged off her thanks, telling her that my mom is very social and is happy to have someone to chat with.

The woman, who I initially guessed might be Jenny’s sister, shook her head sadly. “It’s so hard to see her like this. Jenny was always so well informed, and now…” She trailed off and I nodded sympathetically. It is hard. The woman went on to tell me that Jenny was a librarian for many years and, back in the 1970s, a labor organizer. “I was the head librarian,” she explained. “She worked for me for many years. After she retired, she worked part-time at the senior center until a couple of years ago.” She further explained that Jenny has no family except two brothers, one in Seattle and the other overseas.

I was touched that she had come to visit Jenny, to share the holiday party with her, despite her apparent discomfort with the dementia that has reduced her articulate, well-informed colleague to a state of childlike dependence. I was struck by, as hard as it is to deal with a parent or grandparent with dementia, how much harder must it be to see a PEER in that state. There but for the grace of God, and all that.

Later, as I was getting ready for my next holiday party, I kept thinking about Jenny who has no family around, no one to look out for her best interests. I don’t have kids, or a husband anymore, so this could well be me someday. It’s a sobering thought. I don’t know how Jenny ended up in this board and care, but I’m glad that she did because I know the staff, and I trust that she’s getting the same good care that my mom gets — even without a daughter to check up on her and advocate for her. Still, she must get lonely. When we get back from our holiday travels, I’m going to make a point to check on Jenny whenever I visit.

 

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Mom and me: Don’t we look festive?

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “No One

  1. Good observations & writing. We could all be like Jenny someday, no matter how many people we have in our lives. Your mother’s kindness, as well as your own, is the saving grace for many of us. I believe that in 20-30 years – there will be many innovations & advancements in elder care. But no matter what happens – there are always kind people around. And in the end – the love you take will equal to the love you make (said some wise dude).

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