Day Two (From Marian)

Again the conversations need to be transcribed and added in)

Day Two:

Top Ten reasons why I love my elders so much? (in no particular order)

1. I feel like a rock star when I'm around them.
2. They enjoy talking so much they're always ready.
3. They remind me of my childhood.
4. They smell different.
5. They've been independent longer.
6. They know hard times.
7. They always offer to pay.
8. They laugh.
9. They remind me there is always a simpler way.
10. They hold my hand as long as I want them to.

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX (conversations)

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

XXXXX X X X X XXXXXXXX

I arrive at the Reflections Unit (Kachina Points Memory Care Wing) a little early today, but Marian doesn't know this. I am a young stranger to her. I walk to her room and stand out of the way enough to see what she's doing. Unaware of my presence Marian still seems to grow a canopy for grapes. The proof is how she harvests herself this morning. She sets her heavy hairbrush down on her small vanity space neighboring her nail file and toothbrush- a perfect row. She then moves her walker in front of her and with in two attempts, she is up and shuffling to her doorway, looking both ways, smiles at me and then hangs a right and merges with the morning traffic of the hallway; freedom driven, as if she can still drive. She arrives at the nurses station where the glances are already tired. Then giving her most sincere Good Morning to the busy ladies, Marian turns back and starts her doctors advice, the walk.

An almost meticulously rigorous schedule helps Marian feel successful. For or from what she does not know, but the nurses tell me, "she loves her morning walks." And it shows. I have moved to a bench next to the Family Room where we will be having our conversation. It's quite with the door shut; a big help since Alzheimer's affects not just the memory but the eyes and ears too. Visions become questionable. Sounds become strained.

Marian passes me twice. On her way back for third lap I rise to greet her slowly. Our eyes meet happily.

"That was a great walk Marian. I was watching you from here and noticed how well you're moving. Let's sit down for a minute and chat."

"Who are you?" Marian ponders.

"Just a friend that wants to hang out with you."

Marian smiled her big genuine smile and walked with me into the family room. Today my heart is a bit heavy but it has nothing to do with Marian.

Marian's hands are a tired assembly of bone, veins and satin; bundles of Juniper branches draped in velvet. Today I try and convince my self that by holding on to Marian's hand I'm helping her retain a portion of her dignity. And it's true that constant physical contact such as hugging and hand holding does help my elders feel more secure, but that's not the only motivation. In this moment my mother is a thousand miles away and only fives years younger. Today I'm holding Marian's hand as long as she'll let me. I want to rest my head on her shoulder. This is my first acknowledgment that Marian has triggered an issue for me to resolve. This is good.

Holding Marian's hand also helps me understand her world with her dignity intact. "I am here for you Marian.", I say with my touch, hand on top of hand, my eyes patient and neutral. "I have no where more important to be than this place, right now." By holding Marian in the moment, by not judging her state of mind with frustration or quick temper, "Why can't you remember me fifteen minutes a go?" I can enjoy not just Marian, but I can enjoy myself authentically. By being with her fully, I am with myself, with full spirit and energy and heart. With out judgment of her condition, the judgement of who I am subsides and a balanced-self steps forward and reaches for another hand to touch and realize.

At 4:36 this morning I was right in the middle of these thoughts when Oren, my oldest son, calls out for me. He has awoken to a wet bed and slight embarrassment. Would shaming him with frustration and quick temper help the situation? No. I simply lead him into Mommy and Daddy's room, helped him into a dry set of pajamas and invited him to sleep in Daddy's spot. I went back to his room, collected the sheets, piled them near the washer and came back to assemble these thoughts.

Marian deserves to have her dignity protected, just like my son. If I return to my authentic-self in the vehicle of compassion, I need no manual or book to guide. By preserving my sons dignity, I preserve Marian's, I preserve mine. If need be, I will preserve my mothers.