Last week when I visited she at least knew my name. She didn’t have anything to say, so I just wheeled her around outside and sang some of her old favorite songs. She joined in for a line or two on “Bicycle Built for Two,” but that was about it.
As I was wheeling her back inside, she said “I wonder what your dad is doing right now.”
I was a little surprised, because she has never talked about my father, only her mother and stepfather. But there was no doubt she was referring to the man she married.
I said, “I don’t know. What do you think he’s doing?”
“Probably taking a nap.”
This week she did not know me.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No, I’m Tina. Do you know who Tina is?”
“Well, I’ve heard the name…”
She ate two pieces of candy, agreed that yes, it was nice and warm in the sunshine, and that was about it. She had forgotten our ritual good-bye kiss on the cheek.
I’m told she is becoming a bit obstreperous with the staff, refusing to take her pills, refusing to wear her backless shoes, then complaining her feet are cold.
The shut down continues.