When Al got off the bus tonight I wasn’t greeted with the usual smiles. The hand that is common to see raising half-way to wave to me was resting in his lap.
As the bus driver was lifting him down the ramp, she had to remind him to lift his feet, which he did with great effort.
Once I got him inside I took him to his usual spot. I sat him at the head of the table and told him this was the king’s seat. No smile for that funny comment either. I read the communication book from Day Program. It stated that Al was very tired today and didn’t participate like he usually does.
There was a knock at the door and I was right in the middle of preparing our supper. Al did manage to get out a soft word, knock. I went to the door and it was the Medical Supplier. He was delivering briefs, liners and pads for Al.
I always have to sign that I received them and while I had the pen in hand, the gentleman glanced in Al’s direction. He then commented, ” I see he is napping.”
I sort of chuckled but there is always this tiny part of me inside that wants to become a smart-ass, but I bite my tongue. I have no reason at all to be a snippy gal. I get on the defense I think and it is wrong. I wanted to say, “hey dummy, you work for a company delivering for the sick and dying. What’s wrong with you, can’t you see he is sick?” But instead said, “no, he is sick. He struggles to hold his head up.”
The delivery man looked at me, and then a way. I signed and he disappeared to his next house.
Al had trouble eating. He couldn’t hold his silver ware, and he was taking more than one bite at a time. I helped him eat because he was saying, “stupid tremors, stupid being sick. I don’t know why it has to try to destroy me.”
I wanted to rescue him before he got to the point of tears. I remembered back when my children were small and sad. I offered them the good stuff. Ice-cream with chocolate syrup. It did work. he ate that right up and even tried licking the bowl.
It seems that our Mother’s great efforts to teach us good table manners has pretty well left Al’s mind. He eats with his fingers or how ever he can get the bites of food into his mouth. Tonight I had to wash his hair after supper. He had mashed potatoes in it. I think they must have been flipped by the tremoring hands.
I tried several times to start a conversation, but the ghost remained seated in Al’s seat. He has not really said anything to me thus far except,”I want to take a nap.”