Joker's Wild

If days with Susan were to be compared to the cards in a deck than today would be the Joker’s wild! She was calm when she first appeared this morning scooting through the quiet house toward the kitchen to get her morning coffee. After breakfast she quietly disappeared back into her bedroom, where I believe she was praying to her new Virgin Mary statue that Kyle brought her. (He knew she would like it, so he set it in the hall outside her door the other night. In the morning it was gone. I found it that day in her dark room sitting high up in a place of prominence upon her makeup vanity.)

After prayers she joined Katrina and I back in the main house. There, Katrina sat on the couch preparing to leave for an appointment and I stood in the kitchen on the phone. Susan shuffled up to the breakfast bar as if it were a restaurant. She ordered a hot cup of coffee. Once made, I set it on the coffee table in front of her usual spot on the couch. She sat down next to Katrina, seemingly preoccupied with sipping her hot coffee. Eventually she looked over at Katrina and said, “Who are you?” Taken back, Katrina grinned over at her grandmother of twenty-one years and queried, “Who do you think I am?” “I don’t know; I’ve never seen you before.” Susan stated in a convincing way. A short conversation followed similar to what you might have heard during a game of Clue. Katrina whispered to me when I entered the scene, “Did you hear that Mom, she doesn’t even know who I am!” I engaged in the game about who Katrina might likely be, with huge clues thrown Susan’s way, yet none of it jogged her memory in the slightest way, it seemed. How very sad.

Poor forgotten Katrina walked out the front door to head for her appointment while I (Susan's friend now; no longer her daughter-in-law) sat with Susan. A knock came immediately on the door Katrina had just exited, and in walked Susan’s regular nurses aid. When she took her usual seat next to Susan, it became immediately obvious that Susan had never seen her before either! Susan looked at her suspiciously as she sipped her still hot coffee. When it appeared the cup was empty, the aid reluctantly mentioned that it was now time for a shower. She had learned by experience how Susan reacts when faced with a shower! Snap- crackle- pop went Susan’s mouth!

I have learned to just start moving in that direction without arguing back, so I headed for Susan’s bedroom to choose her clothes. She knew what I was doing and became immediately verbally abusive as she yelled at me not to do it! She is not taking a shower! She is sick! Forget it! “Don’t do it, Karen! Don’t do it!” She screeched as she jumped up from her seat and followed me into her room, where I stood at her closet choosing a cozy semi-warm outfit for her to wear after the shower. She yelled abusive things that I care not to repeat. I spoke calmly but firmly back to her, letting her know that bullying doesn’t work with me and that she would have a shower whether she liked it or not. We all know that when shower time is all said and done, Susan always feels better.

I was baffled by her extreme anger as she followed me into the bathroom where I was hanging her clothes behind the door. As I reached into the linen closet for a washcloth and towel, Susan snatched up the clothes to return them back to her bedroom. That was her way of protesting the shower. But lucky for all of us, the aid and I have gotten this routine down to a science, so letting her leave the bathroom was not an option. As is become too often necessary, we de-robed her as she fought and screamed like a child not wanting a bath. She grabbed at her clothes and even slipped them back on herself a time or two, until finally she stood naked and mad. Before it was over she streaked back through the hall toward her room (as usual) to secure her door. After all, I might have wanted to go in there while she was in that shower. Silly her. Truth is, all I wanted was that ten minutes of peace and quiet without her, without her stuff and without her stinky room.

Once we all survived the shower trauma and Susan had eaten lunch, she discovered that her keys were missing. She looked around for them; but mostly she looked suspiciously at me for them. I really really didn’t want to play ‘Lost Keys’ again, so I simply said, “How would I know where your keys are? You wouldn’t let me touch them. You wanted to be in charge so figure out where you put them.” She looked high and low and in and out and mostly -at me, but I didn’t budge. Finally her eyes caught sight of a coffee table bowl with glass balls in it and her face darkened as her hands lunged forward-“Damn keys!*#~*..#@,” she cussed as she yanked them up and angrily threw them at the ground next to my feet. I picked them up and tossed them across the room toward her hallway while stating, “There, now go to your room and don’t come back out until you can be nice!” She may never come out at this rate! :)