Carolyn recently celebrated her 90th birthday. When I arrived the following day, a giant bouquet of yellow and white flowers sat on the coffee table accompanied by a gaggle of purple and yellow balloons. Her daughter Ann told me that those were her favorite colors. Carolyn sits in her chair with a pillow behind her head, her hands folded over the fleece leopard print blanket that is spread out over the sharp angles of her legs. Her head is tilted back against the white pillow and she’s staring off into nothingness. She doesn’t seem to notice as I sit down on the deep couch.
The couch is phenomenal. The couch was made for sprawling out with a good book and a glass of wine. The couch belongs in my home, it belongs to long naps and sleepless nights. Alas, I settle into the far right corner and instead of napping, I turn my attention to Carolyn and try to imagine what could be going through her mind.
Carolyn has had Alzheimer’s disease for about two years now, and back in May, she was involved in an automobile accident that has left her with a relentless sharp pain in her head. When she is staring off into space, lost in her thoughts, these are the good times. These are the times that the pain isn’t overwhelming her to the point of tears. Have you ever seen an old woman cry in pain? It tugs at your heart, and there’s almost nothing you can do to help.
As I’m sitting there, quietly studying her for signs of pain, Carolyn finally notices me. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes briefly meet my own, look away, then back again. I ask her about her birthday party the day before. She responds that it was nice, and then her eyes drift away again. There is no emotion in her words, no joy on her face.
Carolyn currently lives with her daughter and son in law, along with a man she refers to as her husband although they’ve never actually been married. Henry is also ninety years old, and his health is stellar for his age. He’s active, he reads the Plain Dealer every day, he still drives himself where he needs to go. He had a small patch of cancerous growth on his neck, but he had surgery a couple weeks ago to have it removed, and it’s healing very nicely.
Today is my last day with Carolyn, because she’s moving back into her former home with her other daughter, Rosette. When Carolyn was injured in the car accident, it was Rosette who was driving, and she was also injured and couldn’t care for her mother until she was well. This precipitated Carolyn’s move to Ann’s home, and thus my being hired to come in and care for her while Ann and her husband ran errands and gave themselves a break,.
Henry is sitting in the chair next to Carolyn’s. He’s reading his newspaper and drinking coffee, trying not to notice the pain in his neck where he’d had surgery.
Carolyn turns toward Henry and says, “You might get tired of me.”
Henry can’t hear her, and continues reading his paper. Carolyn tries to get his attention, and finally he looks over at her. “What was that, honey?”
“You might get tired of me, Henry.”
“Tired of you? No! Oh, no, sweetheart,” he says as he stands up slowly and shuffles over in front of her. He kisses her lips and she leans her head back into the pillow as he sits back down.
* * * * * * *
On our last day together, Carolyn greets me with a rare smile and asks how I was doing. I respond in kind, and reach down to pat her bony hands, and I notice how cold they are. I cover them with her blanket before I sit down opposite her on the phenomenal couch. Carolyn says something to Henry that he doesn’t really hear.
“Now Carolyn, if you’re going to yell at me all day, I’m going to go somewhere.”
She closes her eyes and sits quietly for a long time.
After awhile, she stands up and, gripping the handles of her walker, makes her way through the kitchen and down the hallway into the bathroom. Henry goes outside to sit on the pack patio in the sun and fresh air. As soon as Carolyn returns, she asks where he’s gone. I point out the big double pane sliding glass doors, and she pushes her walker over to them.
Henry opens the door and takes her arm to help her through. He continues to support her as she steps slowly down one stair, and then sits on the step. A moment later I see Henry place a cushion underneath her. He makes sure she’s comfortably situated before he sits next to her on the stone. He reaches over and rubs his hand around her back, and she places her hand on his knee, leaning toward him.
The sliding glass door between us blocks all sound outside, but I can see them talking, their lips moving, forming into smiles. The sun is shining on them, and they are happy.
“Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be ador’d,
as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin,
each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.”
---Thomas Moore
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