I was told that she used to be there every time the doors opened. She tended to the flowers. There wasn’t anyone who loved her church more than she did.
But now, in her 90’s she is lost in the fog of Alzheimer’s.
Rachel and I went to see her. She was little sitting in the big chair. Her glasses appeared as if she had cataracts. We found her in the corner of the room with some other residents. Her present home is run by an organization, and the residents are in what appears to be an older multi-story substantial home of years gone by.
We announced our presence and she seemed hardly fazed, like she would do her best to tune us out and perhaps we would disappear.
“Mary! Hello! I have brought the pastor to see you.”
Not much response.
“Do you want to say hello to the pastor?”
“Now, now, now, now, now, now, now . . .”
Touching her hand, Rachel said, “Mary, talk to me!”
“Get your hands off of me!”
“Hi, Mary. I came from America to see you.”
She looked at me. “That is rubbish! Now, now, now, now, now, now, now . . .”
“Is there anything |I can do for you?”
“Now, now, now, now, now, now, now! I want to gow howme!”
“But Mary, you cannot!”
“Now, now, now, now, now, now, now . . .”
“Would you like for me to pray with you?”
“Now, now, now, now, now, now, now. Get me out of this chair. I want to gow howme!”
It was sad. Robbed of her dignity. This was not the Mary that Rachel knew and loved. She had deteriorated so much since the last time she saw her.
Going to the head nurse, or her equivalent, the nurse reported that the physician was much pleased with the progress that Mary had made, for she had been immobile, and was at least now up and somewhat ambulatory, and he would not need to see her for at least six months.
Sad.