me over to the window? I like it best there.”
Tig maneuvered around the obstacle course of a room containing a large walker, a portable oxygen tank, and the debris of the living, and settled the woman so that the sun from the window lit the soft, Marilyn-Monroe white hair. The apples of her cheeks were unlined and shiny, while the rest of her skin was scored and divided like a crazy, wind-torn corn maze. Her luminous hazel eyes glittered. “Hallie must be having a good day,” Fern said, setting the brakes on her chair.
“Depends on which daughter you ask.” Tig stared through the window into the grounds. The grass shone in the sun, and Tig suddenly longed to be outside.
Fern said, “You can wait in here if you like. I have a few minutes before my next pressing engagement. Sit for a minute.”
Tig slid her lips into a polite smile, started to refuse, changed her mind, and sat in the ugly faux-leather armchair. “She never remembers me, which has been hard for sure. But my sister hasn’t been around for almost two years and she recognized her immediately.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s not right.”
“That’s dementia for you. Nothing right about it. You know what they say: it ain’t personal, it’s business? Alzheimer’s is all personal.”
Tig examined Fern’s face again. “It’s funny you should use that phrase,” she said, thinking of the radio show for the first time in twenty-four hours. “It fits a lot of situations.”
Fern nodded. “My husband died of Alzheimer’s. Well, no, he died of liver cancer, but he had Alzheimer’s, too. During his last years, he called me Patty. He and I were married fifty-two years. He went to his high school senior prom with Patty.”
Tig shook her head. “How did you handle that?”
Fern smiled shyly. “When he talked about her, I called her ‘Peppermint Fatty’ and ‘Fatty McFatty Pants,’ my granddaughter’s favorite, and I pinched him when he called me Patty. I was hoping for a negative feedback loop. A little nursing home Pavlov.”
Tig laughed. “How did that go for you?”
“Not well. The nursing staff told me I had to stop. He was on a blood thinner and bruised easily. Oh, don’t look so shocked. Tell me you don’t feel like shaking your mom now and then.”
“I’d rather punch my sister. But you can’t hit old ladies or pregnant women. It sucks.” Then, looking at Fern, she added, “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I’m feeling better now. I guess I should go.” She stretched to shake Fern’s bony, soft, bird of a hand and in the doorway said, “Can I get you something from the outside world next time I come?”
“Let me think a little. I guess I could use an economy-sized pack of condoms.” Fern laughed and said, “Just kidding. By the way, I believe you saw my son a bit ago, dark hair, attractive. He takes care of all my external worldly needs. He comes in after dinner a few times a week. He’s single. Said he thought you were pretty.”
Distracted, Tig said, “Okay,” because at the far end of the hall, she spotted Wendy at the nurse’s desk, looking impatient. She turned back to Fern and said, “I’ll stop in the next time I come,” then moved quickly down the hall.
“What’s up? Why are you out here?”
“She was getting tired.”
With dripping sarcasm in her voice, Tig said, “Yeah, those ten-minute visits are a real endurance event. Next time, we’ll give her a PowerBar.”
“Look, I just thought the first visit shouldn’t be too long. From what you’ve said about her, I didn’t know if she could handle more.”
“Did she seem like she couldn’t handle more?”
Wendy said, “She’s better than I expected. Let’s bring her home.”
“You spend ten minutes with her, and my two years mean nothing.”
“Maybe I remind her of home. Of living outside this sterile hospital.”
“It’s called having a good day.” Tig walked through the exit, shaking her head, leaving Wendy
Tig maneuvered around the obstacle course of a room containing a large walker, a portable oxygen tank, and the debris of the living, and settled the woman so that the sun from the window lit the soft, Marilyn-Monroe white hair. The apples of her cheeks were unlined and shiny, while the rest of her skin was scored and divided like a crazy, wind-torn corn maze. Her luminous hazel eyes glittered. “Hallie must be having a good day,” Fern said, setting the brakes on her chair.
“Depends on which daughter you ask.” Tig stared through the window into the grounds. The grass shone in the sun, and Tig suddenly longed to be outside.
Fern said, “You can wait in here if you like. I have a few minutes before my next pressing engagement. Sit for a minute.”
Tig slid her lips into a polite smile, started to refuse, changed her mind, and sat in the ugly faux-leather armchair. “She never remembers me, which has been hard for sure. But my sister hasn’t been around for almost two years and she recognized her immediately.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s not right.”
“That’s dementia for you. Nothing right about it. You know what they say: it ain’t personal, it’s business? Alzheimer’s is all personal.”
Tig examined Fern’s face again. “It’s funny you should use that phrase,” she said, thinking of the radio show for the first time in twenty-four hours. “It fits a lot of situations.”
Fern nodded. “My husband died of Alzheimer’s. Well, no, he died of liver cancer, but he had Alzheimer’s, too. During his last years, he called me Patty. He and I were married fifty-two years. He went to his high school senior prom with Patty.”
Tig shook her head. “How did you handle that?”
Fern smiled shyly. “When he talked about her, I called her ‘Peppermint Fatty’ and ‘Fatty McFatty Pants,’ my granddaughter’s favorite, and I pinched him when he called me Patty. I was hoping for a negative feedback loop. A little nursing home Pavlov.”
Tig laughed. “How did that go for you?”
“Not well. The nursing staff told me I had to stop. He was on a blood thinner and bruised easily. Oh, don’t look so shocked. Tell me you don’t feel like shaking your mom now and then.”
“I’d rather punch my sister. But you can’t hit old ladies or pregnant women. It sucks.” Then, looking at Fern, she added, “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I’m feeling better now. I guess I should go.” She stretched to shake Fern’s bony, soft, bird of a hand and in the doorway said, “Can I get you something from the outside world next time I come?”
“Let me think a little. I guess I could use an economy-sized pack of condoms.” Fern laughed and said, “Just kidding. By the way, I believe you saw my son a bit ago, dark hair, attractive. He takes care of all my external worldly needs. He comes in after dinner a few times a week. He’s single. Said he thought you were pretty.”
Distracted, Tig said, “Okay,” because at the far end of the hall, she spotted Wendy at the nurse’s desk, looking impatient. She turned back to Fern and said, “I’ll stop in the next time I come,” then moved quickly down the hall.
“What’s up? Why are you out here?”
“She was getting tired.”
With dripping sarcasm in her voice, Tig said, “Yeah, those ten-minute visits are a real endurance event. Next time, we’ll give her a PowerBar.”
“Look, I just thought the first visit shouldn’t be too long. From what you’ve said about her, I didn’t know if she could handle more.”
“Did she seem like she couldn’t handle more?”
Wendy said, “She’s better than I expected. Let’s bring her home.”
“You spend ten minutes with her, and my two years mean nothing.”
“Maybe I remind her of home. Of living outside this sterile hospital.”
“It’s called having a good day.” Tig walked through the exit, shaking her head, leaving Wendy
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