She’s been subdued the last couple weeks, ever since she got home from the hospital (which she doesn’t remember). Both dogs jumped in her lap when I arrived. As I wheeled her down the hall to her room she continued what she had been doing, saying in a steady, mostly even rhythm,
“Dup, dup, dup, dup, dup-dup-dup, dup, dup, dup.”
I asked her if she was singing to herself, but she didn’t seem to be aware she had been doing it.
I put her hearing aid in for her and made light conversation.
“Dup, dup, dup…”
Finally I said, “I guess I don’t understand ‘Dup.’ Are you trying to tell me something, or do you just like the sound?”
“I guess it’s my new language,” she laughed.
LIke the face scratching a year or more ago, and the weeks of singing the chorus of “Bicycle Built for Two,” and “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder,” this seems to be her latest repetitive fixation. At least she could joke about it.
I tried to jog her memory on various subjects. Being Super Bowl Sunday, I asked if her school had had a football team.
“Yes.” “Were they any good?” “I don’t think so.”
That led to her remembering (with my memory jogs) that she had played trumpet in the band, and the band had played at football games. Oh, and at commencement, and they gave concerts. I told her I had played in the band in school, too, and enjoyed it. She asked if I still played and I said no. Did she still play? That got a laugh. No, not since she was in school.
Dup, dup-dup, dup, dup….
She likes it when I have her go through an exercise routine, so we did that. By then it was time to get her to the dining room for supper. I kissed her good-bye and told her I love her, and would see her soon.
As I was gathering the dogs and heading to the door, all of a sudden she became talkative.
“I always like to see you. Come anytime, except when I’m sleeping. I can’t talk to you when I’m sleeping…”
I punched in the code and closed the door behind me.