The rest of the story after my first visit to my dad-in-law after his broken hip …
I was so impressed that Pepaw had sat up by himself, and so shortly after he had honestly proclaimed a lot of pain from his reconstructed hip. I sat on his left side, awaiting the return of the CNAs when he suddenly announced:
"I gotta pee."
No way was I taking any risk in helping him up to go to the bathroom, even if I could get him into the wheelchair a few inches away from us. I had to make sure he wouldn't try to get up on his own.
"The nurse will be back in a few minutes, and she'll help you go to the bathroom."
"Okay."
He looked at the suitcase in the corner of his room, where it had been moved from near the doorway. He had packed it that first week, waiting to be taken home to Tennessee where he was sure his family was waiting for him. We had unpacked it once, only to have him fill it again, so we didn't mess with it again. If he wanted it that way, that's the way it would remain.
"My medicine's in there," he said.
"Oh, it is?" I knew better but would go along.
"Can't get into it over there."
"That's okay. The nurse will take care of the medicine for you."
My right hand began to rub his back, and I think it comforted me more than him.
"I need to see a doctor."
"What for?"
"My leg." He tapped his right thigh. "I think I need a shot."
"Well, the doctor ordered the medicine the nurse is bringing. Shall we see if that works first? If it doesn't help, we'll call the doctor for you."
"Okay."
Wordlessly, I continued to rub his back. I searched every memory of interaction with my dad-in-law in the 36-plus years I had known him, and I can't ever remember doing this. I had always been closer to my mom-in-law and the girls, and of course had hugged Pepaw through the years, but this physical contact made me feel closer to him than ever before. Part of me wanted to just rest my head on his shoulder and make all his pain go away …
The door opened to reveal the return of the two CNAs.
"He sat up on his own and needs to go to the bathroom." I let go and got out of the way so they could take care of him. They eased him into the wheelchair and asked if he was still in pain.
"No."
"No pain at all?" the woman asked.
"Nope."
She smiled as she shook her head. Yep, Pepaw and his Alzheimer's. Forgotten already, which is probably a blessing. She said he was scheduled for the pain meds anyway, so it was no problem. The male CNA wheeled him into the bathroom as she prepared to help Pepaw. The man gently touched the back of Pepaw's head and made sure his baseball cap was straight on his thick white mane of hair. A moment later, the nurse came in and gave him his meds, and I thanked her for taking such good care of him as the CNAs carefully closed the bathroom door to give Pepaw some privacy.
After Pepaw finished and I also thanked the CNAs, we wheeled him into the dining room for lunch. I sat next to him in silence as he focused on his hamburger, hash brown triangle and three-bean salad. It wasn't a time to chit-chat. He said nothing the entire meal except for "thank you" when given his plate and iced tea.
I just put myself in observer-mode as I watched those Alzheimer's patients who could still feed themselves and those who could not and needed assistance. No one, including me, was rattled by the woman repeatedly yelling "yi yi yi yi yi!" This was a normal day in the land of Alzheimer's, where these residents were being treated with dignity and compassion.
After Pepaw finished the banana pudding dessert, I asked if he'd like me to give him a ride down the hall. He nodded, and I assumed the reins of the wheelchair. We didn't say anything as I pushed him through the hallways that he had walked hundreds of times already in his endless mission to "ride the rails." This time, he didn't have to stay close to the wall as I guided the wheelchair through the middle of the spacious halls. I smiled at the few residents who were up and walking after lunch, as most remained in the facility's two dining halls completing their meal.
Sadness filled me as I fully comprehended how Pepaw's world had come to a screeching halt when he fell and broke his hip. He always had to be moving to "kill time," to cope in his own way with the horrific disease destroying him cell by cell, even if he didn't comprehend what was happening to him.
I felt myself moving at the steady, frenetic pace he had kept only a week earlier. However, I wasn't grabbing the handrails. My hands stretched to gently grasp his shoulders and the back of the wheelchair to maintain the human touch I needed at that moment.
After three complete rounds of the building's interior, I stopped and moved to the front to ask if he'd like to go watch some "Walker, Texas Ranger" on the TV. It was then that I saw that he was barely awake. The ride had lulled Pepaw to sleep.
"Yeah," he whispered.
I drove him to the TV room and popped in a Walker DVD. His eyelids has won the battle as I told him I'd see him soon and that I loved him. I kissed his right cheek goodbye. I informed the CNAs where he was and told them to have a nice Valentine's Day. They wished me the same.
As I stepped outside into the unseasonably warm winter's day, I felt the need to walk … just walk …
This walk's for you, Pepaw.
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