Observations and inanities by a second-shift assistant supervisor in the Puppy-Grinding division of the Evil Atheist Conspiracy® (our motto: "Sure it's cruel, but think of the jobs!"), your host, Brent Rasmussen.
Unseen visitors.
It was a half hour before lunch yesterday. I checked in on my mother-in-law (MIL), who was sitting in the front room, reading. Doing this regularly helps her feel less anxious, gives her a chance to ask questions or if she needs something, since she doesn't always remember that she can just call for me.
"How're you doing?"
"I'd like to get up and look out that window."
This is unusual. "Um, why?"
"Because I want to see what's so interesting out there."
"???"
"There was a man here a few minutes ago, and he was looking out that window at something."
No, there wasn't - we'd been alone since my wife left for her office 90 minutes earlier. "A man?"
"Yes. There was a man there, looking out. He seemed to be very interested in something."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I was on-call last night. It's a lot easier to do this now that it's only a couple times a week. My MIL had been restless early on, so I went to check on her about 11:00.
"You OK?"
"Yes. But I need to get up."
"Do you need to use the toilet?"
"No. I need to make room for the other people."
"???"
"All the people who are here. I need to let them use the room."
"No, it's OK - this is your room, and they're happy to let you sleep here."
"Really?"
"Really."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
At 5:30 this morning, she was stirring. I went downstairs to see what was going on. My MIL was over at the edge of her bed, against the rails, trying to reach the lamp on her bedside table (which we keep out of range of her reach on purpose).
"Whatcha doing?"
"Trying to turn on that light."
"Why?"
"Well, so I can see the other people."
"???"
"The ones who are here for dinner. I want to go to dinner with them."
"It's 5:30 in the morning." There's a bright digital clock on the table, but she usually forgets to look at the indicator for AM/PM.
"Then why are the people here for dinner?"
"I'm not sure. I'll go ask them. But you can go back to sleep, and we'll be sure to get you up when it is time for breakfast at 8 o'clock."
"OK."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a little after 7:00, I was just sitting down with my second cup of coffee and catching up on the news online. I heard my MIL stirring again, went to investigate.
"Do you need something?"
"I'm trying to see if I can get my head through these bars." She means the bed rails.
"That's not a good idea. You could get hurt." She won't be able to, anyway, but still it's not a good idea for her to be trying it.
"Oh. OK. Well, I called my family in Boonville, and the oldest boy is going to come and get me." I think she's thinking of my wife's cousin Bob, who died earlier this year.
"Well, I'll be sure to come wake you when he gets here. But you can go back to sleep until then."
"You promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
Makes you wonder.
Jim Downey
(Cross posted from my blog.)
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Creepy
I had a similar experience many years ago. About a year before my grandmother died I spent a very creepy week with her. She had been hospitalized for some unknown (to me) reason a few weeks prior. My dad went up to stay with her the week after she was released. Then, for spring break, I took a turn helping out. She was on a lot of meds for various symptoms and her eyesight had degenerated quite a bit. (Also important: she lived in Vermont and the snow had mostly melted leaving little patches dotting the landscape.)
My dad (who overlapped me by a day) warned me that she had taken up the fine hobby of talking to various inanimate objects throughout her house. He believed her eyesight was so poor and the meds so strong that she just couldn't tell.
But he didn't warn me about all the little children. Of course, there weren't actually any children. But my grandmother would constanly talk about the mischeivous little children who always managed to stay just out of sight. Apparently they were constantly up to no good and their parents refused to discipline them at all.
Nor did he warn me about the men who were skulking around outside. Passing windows only when my grandmother was watching. They were apparently workmen hired by my dad's cousin to construct a carnival in the field below my grandmother's house. How angry she would get that he was putting up that carnival. And how disturbed was I by her descriptions of the place. For this was no ordinary carnival. The rides as described could easily have outfitted a torture chamber. Casual murder took place there on a daily basis. Wild dogs ran throughout, feasting on the corpses of those killed on the rides and left to rot on the ground.
These persistant and creepy hallucinations were to last the duration of my stay with her. Later, apparently as the snow continued to melt and the contrast in her visual field decreased, she stopped seeing the carnival, but continued to converse with plants for quite some time. All the crazy she had going on that week made for an unpleasant stay, but gave me a great story to tell later. :)
I don't want to get old
My grandfather is 91 and has had similar types of issues, often involving a dog on his chair. The family has never owned a dog. He's also nearly deaf so even on good days, and there are some, its very difficult to communicate so he's rarely happy anymore. But every now and then his wit and humor will cut through out of no where and take the whole family by surprise. Including one day when after a bit of a fight with grandma (I'm lucky enough to still have all four grandparents) about the chair he won't sit in because of the dog that doesn't exist he slyly leaned to my parents and whispered, "I know theres no dog." How do you respond to that? Other times there have been little clear-eyed winks that make me wonder if his mind is better than we think, he's just bored so he messes with us, like its all just some long term joke to amuse himself. He's always been a glutton for attention, when the spotlight is on him is the rare time when he's truly happy. Maybe it is all a game to him, it's not like he has much else going on. Then there are other times when it seems very clear that the grandfather I knew is only a shell of the man he once was, and theres no going back. I'm not sure why I shared all of that. Senility is such a heartbreaking situation, it makes the hypothesis of an eternal soul seem pretty far fetched. If our memories and personality are determined by some supernatural eternal entity then age and even brain damage should have no bearing on our comprehension. I want to end with a hopeful ending but I don't know how. I wish you the best.