“Everything Are Wonderful”
With my coffee in hand, I patiently waited at the sliding glass doors to be let in by the front desk attendant. He and I had gotten to know each other over the past two weeks as I did my daily visits to see my Mom recovering from a fall and pneumonia. He sincerely wished me good morning with a smile on his face despite being at his familiar post last night when I left. I often wondered if he ever went home. The skilled nursing facility created an interesting dissonance for me given its 4-star hotel appearance despite at its heart it was a place where elderly patients were recovering from serious injury or in need of full time care as they deepened into their dementia.
The facility was hospitably modern and clean with warm and peaceful colors of sea foam greens and muted yellows with dark mahogany hardwood floors underlying it all. The lobby offered well decorated sofas and soft chairs sitting on rugs with sweeping swaths of complimentary colors. Large built in book shelves on opposing walls were adorned with books and ornamental pieces. The lighting fixtures were bright and modern and amplified the large floor to ceiling windows that bathed the area in natural light. I walked past the lobby and down the long hallway toward the elevators remembering that unlike a hotel my Mom was here not for business or for leisure.
Today was a significant day for my Mom’s care given that she was going to be evaluated by her assisted living facility to determine if she was healthy enough and mentally capable to be readmitted to her former home.
As a result of a series of recent falls and mental decline, my family decided to move her to a new portion of her facility so that she could receive full time nursing care to reduce the occurrences of falls that often have a devastating effect on the elderly. Studies have shown that falls “are by far the most common cause of injury and unintentional-injury death among older persons in the United States.”
I entered my Mom’s room to find her sleeping in her recliner. This had become the norm where sleep was becoming more prevalent in her daily life.
I couldn’t help but remember how this woman in front me was so different than my childhood memories. More often than not while I was growing up, sleep was the last thing on her mind. She would often work two back to back 8 hour shifts at the factory in which she labored for us, come home, make dinner, do work around the house and generally make sure all the trains would be running on time in our household. It was what appeared to be a relentless energy that could be at once loving and at the same time fiery hot that could switch in an instant.
“Hi Mom” I gently whispered as her head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open.
Her eyes would slowly open, with their moisture glossing over her own brown colored windows as she looked back at me.
It took a moment, but I could sense when she recognized who I was, and give me a slight smile as she woke from her slumber.
For the past two weeks, I made it a practice to simply hold space for her by simply looking at her eyes when talking to her. I found that it distracted myself from her aging face, silver hair, and concerning thin body. I reminded myself how those were just embodiments of the physical container she found herself in, but her true essence was found through her eyes. Those same eyes that were exactly as they appeared when she was a young girl in Korea, who accompanied her and assisted her navigate every experience she had her lifetime. What did she see, what stories were formed through such eyes, what tears were expressed, what wrinkles were from sincere smiles that hugged those brown eyes? It was a blessing to see her as she truly was, and I discovered that it was through her eyes.
As I wrote previously, her dementia was certainly a burden but also a blessing. A burden in the obvious ways from her loss of short term memory to the extent she would lose what she just heard or said putting her in a continuous tape loop of calls and response. It also began to impact her ability to safely swallow liquids without aspirating that increased the likelihood of pneumonia.
However, from my perspective, it was a blessing at the same time. As a result of the dementia, it appeared that her ability to hold on to negative emotions was impaired as well. Whatever she experienced seem to quickly pass similar to her thoughts. A more gentle, compassionate and loving version of my Mom took center stage. Whatever stories that inflicted her seemed to loosen and drop like an old worn coat that no longer fit and sit tightly on her shoulders . Constant refrains of “thank you” and “love you” came from her mouth and just not to me but anyone she would interact with whether it was the nurse on duty or the person who came to clean her bathroom. She was gratefully referred to as “Ms. Nora” in a customary Southern manner out of hospitality and respect. I was told how much the staff enjoyed her presence even as they needed to shout repeatedly for my Mom to understand what they were saying to her. Given my own difficult childhood memories, I couldn’t help but question if such praise was accurate and/or sincere thinking to myself…”My Mom? Are you sure we are talking about the same person?”
“So Mom,” doing my best to catch her attention …”today is a big day,” I told her. “We are going to meet with someone today who is going to examine you and ask you some questions to see if you are healthy enough to go home?”
She nodded in agreement.
I told her that they would see how she could walk (with the assistance of her walker), get up and down from her chair and bed, and ask her a series of questions.
She said “Ok, I’ll do what I can.”
I replied “Of course, just do your best.”
After several minutes, the nurse who was going to assess my Mom knocked and entered the room. Pleasantries were exchanged and the assessment began.
She started by asking my Mom several simple questions as to her name, and other basic details of her life. She responded with little difficulty. She then asked her what was today’s date. After pausing, my Mom told her she didn’t know. Next, she was asked what day of the week it was today. After a few guesses, it was clear she didn’t know. Finally, when asked what season we were currently in, she replied “Fall” even though the summer sun radiated through the windows and onto leaf filled trees outside her second floor window. My heart dropped. Perhaps realizing what was happening, my Mom quickly said “well you know when you are my age and retired, you just stop keeping track…” accompanied by a “oh well” look on her face with a quick but noticeable scrunched shoulder shrug. The nurse smiled and we both started to laugh acknowledging the truth of that candid statement. The tension automatically eased.
After a series of cognitive memory questions, my Mom did her best but it was clear that she was quite affected by her dementia.
The nurse asked her a final question to write a sentence for her and instructed her that it could be about anything. She gave my Mom a piece of paper and a pen and my Mom began to slowly write. Her cursive handwriting had certainly deteriorated from once it had been when she would occasionally write notes for me when I missed school due to being sick. She finished and gave it back to the nurse. I leaned over to read what she wrote, and I couldn’t help but smile. She wrote:
“Everything are Wonderful.”
I paused. I asked her why she wrote those three words and she just said because it is true.
I certainly took inventory of what happened. My brain quickly filled with thoughts of how this woman had struggled in her life, the challenges, the loss of her family, her culture and country, the anger, the resentment and the shadows that not affected just her but affected my Father and my entire family. The scars of a difficult life were obvious and now in just this short year alone, she suffered several falls, a replaced hip, cracked pelvis, two bouts of pneumonia, the emergency rooms, the inability to safely drink any liquids without a grotesque thickening additive, and the physical pain of recovery. On top of all of those health challenges, she had to bear being away from her current “home” for over a month at this point, and a disease that unmercifully was taking away her memory. It was a growing loss of her independence with each passing week and she was painfully aware of it all. There were plenty of reasons to conclude that her life was anything but wonderful at this point. But instead of holding onto any anger or resentment or the common question of “why me?”, her first thought to reduce to writing was about being positive and grateful. The mistaken grammar and visibly shaken penmanship made it stand out even more for me as to its message.
The nurse read it, and warmly agreed by saying “Yes, it is wonderful…”
As you can probably guess at this point, the story ends that my Mom was deemed to be healthy enough and capable to be readmitted and begin her final part of her own Knowing Road with me as a grateful co-participant for those past two weeks. She would have a little set back after I left to return to my own home in the Washington DC area, but after a long 6 weeks, she would return to her new “home” greeting everyone with “thank you’s” and “love you.”
“Everything are wonderful” indeed.
May you all be happy, may you be without suffering, and may you be at peace and at ease.
This article is published as part of the Knowing Road, an email newsletter for those interested in improving the most important relationship in their lives — the one with themselves. To learn more and subscribe click here.
