“Which one is that?” I ask, just in case.
“102 South Fullerton Avenue.”
I explain why that is no longer possible. She listens intently. If I am able to sit by her bedside and caress her brow this afternoon, it is because I was able to get away earlier in the day, thanks to Lisa and our hospice volunteer, Virginia.
Lisa files this report:
“Beatrice was very awake. I asked her if she was hungry and she was. I went to the kitchen to find something that she'd enjoy and brought back two puddings, to which she replied that she needed something different for her first 'course' and that the puddings would do for dessert. I went back and forth quite a few times with suggestions and finally made a salmon sandwich. She was pleased as punch and had one Beatrice-sized bite and proclaimed that she was ready for her pudding. She ate both with gusto and drank three glasses of water!!
After lunch, Beatrice said she was 'eager to be human again.' Of course I asked what she meant. She meant walking around and going here and there. She wanted to get up to be 'human'. I redirected her instead of upsetting her about not being able to support herself. It was an insight as to how Beatrice thinks of her abilities to ambulate. Virginia showed up and lit up the room. Beatrice was SO very glad to have someone else to talk with. She's such a social person when in her 'awake' space…”
Bea will chat all through the night, off and on. In the morning, I find her quite agitated. To my surprise, the comforter is again on the floor. Bea looks up at me like a little girl, who knows she has been naughty, and declares, “Scold me if you must. Oh! I’m so upset. I can’t get up. I’ve tried and tried. Could you please go downstairs and open the door for my father?” …