Runaway Mother

Last month Oklahoma’s Governor Henry passed the Silver Alert, an alert to handle missing dementia adults, similar to an Amber Alert for missing children. I was especially interested and frankly, relieved because I have had several incidents lately that made the thought of the possibility of losing Susan very real. She so easily gets lost. Today Susan challenged me in a new way. She literally walked out of the house with purse on arm and high heels on feet; she locked the door, walked down the long driveway and right down the road away from the house.

I knew she was looking for her car that she believed she owned. She had looked for it in the driveway earlier and upon not finding it decided she had parked it just down the street. She had been obsessed all morning with going to the bank and to Sams Club. I had repeatedly told her that we were not going anywhere today, that tomorrow was our day out and today I needed to get things done around here. Susan was persistent and her plans evolved throughout the morning. Remember, she is a fighter and doesn’t give up easily.

Her black dress shoes and the purse on her arm alerted me that Susan was on a mission. Since twisting my arm had not worked today Susan must have decided to drive herself. Not that she could actually drive anymore, but try telling her that. Saying her goodbyes she exited the front door before fidgeting several minutes with her keys in the front door locks. I chuckled at the familiar sound of her securing doors, knowing that she would be forced to come right back in after discovering no car waiting for her in the driveway.

I snuck out the back door with my camera to snap a few pictures of her looking at the cars. I thought that might give Jeff a good laugh later on. My pictures became of her backside as she walked tall and confidently, one foot in front of the other walking her further and further away. I expected her to turn back at the end of the driveway but she surprised me with her left turn that took her to a stop sign on the corner where she made a decidedly daring right turn that led her out of view of the house and into unfamiliar territory. She increasingly looked smaller and smaller as she walked on.

I hid at a distance and followed her as she braved her new world. What surprised me most, I suppose, was how she never looked back, not once. The thought of her repeating this without my being aware frightened me. Might she ask a stranger to take her to the bank? What about the wild dogs that I just saw running the streets yesterday? I followed her like a paparazzi snapping pictures of her big adventure. She never knew I was there but walked boldly forward until, thank the Lord, she came to a dead end and had no place else to go but back. Back to me where I stood like her guardian angel ready to escort her home.

The turnaround in her journey somehow created a turnaround in her mind. She now insisted that she was on her way to Cook Whitehead Ford, which her and I both know is in Florida. Obviously she hasn’t checked the walking map lately. If she had she would have known that the walk would have required a backpack and some bottled water, perhaps even a change of clothes or two.

As we strolled together laughing about her adventure she made me a promise that she would walk with me every day (now that I knew how far she could walk). I knew how quickly that promise would be forgotten but the thought of it seemed like a potentially really good idea or possibly a really bad one.

Coincidentally the big story on the evening news was the first Silver Alert, an Alzheimer’s woman across town had walked away from her home this very day. Maybe she and Susan were looking for one another. We made Susan watch the story that included police, helicopters and search dogs but ended with good Samaritans’ and a happy reunion. Susan promised she would never just run off again. Two promises in one day. We’ll see if they stick.