Another Night on the Prairie

(Note: Susan has Sundowners. Basically, she is more confused and irritable in the evenings. Really, it can hit her anytime after noon and on overcast days. Apparently this syndrome is common among Alzheimers sufferers. Even after a fairly normal morning, any afternoon can turn into total chaos. Here is an example of an afternoon with Susan.)

"I’m gonna go now, Karen.” Susan informs me as she velcro's her sneakers. “Where do you think you are going, Susan?” I ask to be courteous. “I’m gonna go home now so I can go to bed.” I know what to say next; I have it memorized. I also know it doesn’t work, but I start in: “You know you live here in this house with Jeff and me now. Your room is right there- through the doors and to the left. If you are tired you can go ahead and lie down.”

“I know, Karen,” she starts. I don’t understand why she always says that. She says she knows, but she doesn’t know. If she knew, she would quit trying to go somewhere else. She says it as though she is comforting me when I am hurt! “I know Karen, it will be okay!” Maybe she sensed that the pitch changed in my voice when she started getting ready to go ‘home’ AGAIN!

She smoothly adds, “I just need to get home. I’ll come back in the morning. Could you give me a ride? It isn’t far.” My brain reminds me what the ‘professionals’ say- play along; my gut tells me not to say another word! My compassion takes over, “Susan, you have no other home. There is no place to go. You have lived here in Jeff’s home for two years now!” Her voice portraits that she pities me for being so ridiculous, “No Karen, I have my home. My daddy and mommy are there. They will worry if I don’t come home.” “Susan, your parents are no longer there, that is why you live with Jeff and me. You are seventy-four now. Remember when Inang lived with you and Dad? She didn’t go back to the Philippines anymore; you took care of her, remember?” “Yes Karen. But I do have a home. I need to go there. I have brothers and sisters. My father is going to be mad since he prepared the house for me!” My mind wanders as her mouth rattles on with details…I wonder is she reminiscing or preminiscing? I think about the Father above preparing a home for Susan and I wonder which father she is really speaking of.

(Later that evening)
Hours pass and persistent Susan is now yelling at me through the grotto doors. Her voice never seems to weaken. “Karen! Come on; open the door; I’ve got to see Mommy! She needs me real bad; she is sick and I will probably take her to the hospital!” Suddenly her voice hardens, “Karen! I know you are there and I know you hear me! That is not nice! Now open the door! Come on! Open the door!”

She has always been a stubborn woman, but her persistence reminds me of why protecting her is so important. Without a doubt, if she were not safely secured behind the grotto doors tonight, as sure as I am telling this, she would be walking down the street as darkness rolled across the sky…just walking… and walking… 'home’. I know because she has done it over and over. So far I have always been close behind and my hope is that we will always keep her safe- safe from herself and her own confusion.

(The last few photos are representative of Susan's confusion. On that particular May afternoon she was attempting to find her way home with a few treasured belongings in her hands. She stood by the country road as if she were waiting for a city bus. When none came to escort her to Florida, I finally convinced her to come back inside.)