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9:48 a.m. - 2006-03-26
When your parent becomes your child

Paranoia

Mike was let into the locked down Alzheimer's ward by the nurse and proceded down the hall, rich with the smell of somebodys BM. An elderly lady, smile upon her face, waddled by wearing a helmut for her protection. It resembled one of those old football helmuts from the 1920's. The staff had told her was an Easter bonnet, making her happy and proud to wear it.

Since Mom had been in good spirits the day before, Mike expected to find her the same way again. Instead he found her sitting numbly in the TV room in front of a show she didn't particularly care to watch, but felt she had to because of "Them".

He took her for a walk and in a hushed tone she said. "They don't treat us very well here. They keep us locked up and won't let us make phone calls, and I haven't had a shower since I've been here."

"You havn't even been here 24 hours, Ma" said Mike.

He took her to her room, then walked over to the nurses station and asked about a shower and use of the phone.

"She's scheduled for tonight." said the nurse, "and she can call out of here anytime she wants, as well as receive phone calls."

Mike went back into Mom's room and told her what the nurse had told him. She didn't seem to buy it.

Outside the room hangs a shadow box. Families are encouraged to decorate it with pictures of the patient and their families and anything that would not only help the feeble minded identify their own room, but as a way for the staff to interact with them, asking about the people in the pictures and such. Mike had brought some pictures with him to put in the box.

"NO!!!! Take those back" cried Mom, "That can only work against me."

"How can it work against you Mom?" said Mike.

Mom shrugged.

Mike looked over at Mom's roommate. She was lying in bed in the same comatose position she had been in the day before. From the looks of her she most likely couldn't walk or interact with people any longer and what little life she had left was pretty much just laying in bed. The woman grunted something unintelligible.

"What about her?"...Mike pointed. "Does she ever talk or get up?"

"Shhhhhh....Mom whispered...She's working for THEM!!!....she's a spy."

Mike wanted to cry. She seemed so with it yesterday, he thought.

He decided to just ignore the paranoid comments and started unpacking the bag of clothing he brought for her, marked with her name, the way you would mark your child's name on things they had to take to school.

P. I. Yarnsmith


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