Shadows of Memories (Baxter Academy)

by Charles, Jane

  “They’ll transfer her to Manor Gardens shortly. A bed is already being prepared.”

  So, they went ahead with plans without even speaking with me first? It’s a bit irritating, but I’m also glad they’ve taken care of finding a place. I’m not sure I’d even know where to begin.

  I’m sure these nurses here will be glad to see her go. They probably had a quiet celebration when Nana did finally fall asleep. A nap that lasted all of an hour. That woman should have collapsed by now.

  “Take me home,” Nana orders as soon as I step back into her room.

  “We don’t have a home anymore,” I say for probably the hundredth time.

  The nurse comes in and before taking out the IV stent, she gives Nana one more injection.

  “What is that?”

  “Something to calm her.”

  I nod. They’ve been giving her stuff and nothing seems to work. Perhaps they should try a horse tranquilizer.

  I shake my head. That was a mean thought, but I’m so fucking tired. I love Nana. She’s my only family and I’d do anything for her, but I need a break, if only for a few minutes.

  “Will you be driving her or do you want an ambulance to transport?”

  After the way Nana’s been behaving, I can just imagine how she’d act if they tried to get her into an ambulance. They’d need a straightjacket.

  “I can drive her.” It’ll also give me time to explain, not that it’ll do any good right now.

  “Go ahead and let her get dressed.”

  I grab the plastic bag with her clothing from the closet. They smell of smoke, and not the cigarette kind, and put them on her bed. “You need to get dressed now, Nana.”

  She smiles. “Finally.”

  Before the nurse and I can do anything, Nana starts stripping. The nurse hastily closes the curtain before those on the other side of the window get an eyeful. She may have been given something to calm her but it hasn’t slowed her down at all.

  When we open the curtain again, another nurse is waiting on the other side of the door with a wheelchair. “Have a seat, Nana.”

  “No.”

  “You need to sit in the chair.”

  “No.” She tries to step around the chair to get into the hall but the nurse successfully blocks her. How often they have to do this?

  “Then I’m not taking you out of here.” I’m careful not to say home. She doesn’t have one anymore and I don’t want her getting it in her head. She probably thinks I’m taking her there anyway. At least I assume that’s what she thinks.

  Nana glares at me.

  “Can she just walk?”

  “We can try that.” The nurse says.

  “Come on, Nana.” I hold out my hand and thankfully she takes it.

  The nurse leads us to the elevators, but I have to keep a tight hold of Nana’s hand. She keeps pulling away and wanting to go in a different direction. Curious, like a kid on an adventure. Peering into rooms, stopping at windows, turning down endless corridors. I just want to get her out of here before she gets away. It reminds me of when I babysat kids one summer. I couldn’t take them anywhere without them wanting to explore everything. I gave them more freedom than I dare give Nana.

  When we reach the lobby she practically races for the front door. I thanked the nurse and let Nana lead me outside. She doesn’t slow until we get to the drive separating the parking lot from the hospital.

  “Come with me,” I pull on her hand. “My car is over here.”

  Smiling, she comes with me and I finally get her into the passenger side and buckled in, breathing out a sigh of relief as I put the key in the ignition.

  Nana says nothing while I drive, thank goodness. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got her in the car and afraid she’d try to bolt. I’m also not sure how to explain where we are going, afraid that it will only agitate her when she’s finally calm. I just keep my mouth shut. There’s no point in rocking the boat.

  The nursing home, Manor Gardens, is on the other side of town and I pull into a visitor parking space when we arrive.

  “Come on,” I tell Nana when I get out of the car.

  “Why?”

  “We need to go in for your arm.”

  She looks down at the bandage and then shrugs, but at least she doesn’t fight me on it.

  There’s a code to get in the front door. I push it and it buzzes open. We meet the receptionist at the front door. She’s expecting us and calls the director.

  “Hello, my name is Peggy Proctor,” and older woman holds out her hand. “I’m director of the Memory Care Unit.”

  “Jenna Ferguson, and this is my grandmother, Laura Ferguson.”

  “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you around.” She punches in buttons on the next door so we can enter the nursing home. As soon as I step through the door a horrible smell hits me and I try to breathe through my mouth.

  I’ve never been in a nursing home before and if this is what they have to live with, no wonder Nana made me to promise to never to put her in one. A lot of the odors I can’t even identify, but I suspect it’s a combination of urine, feces, medicine and old. It’s all I can do not to gag, and I have to swallow back a few times. I glance over at Nana and she seems oblivious just looking around, though not very interested.

  How can people stand to work here?

  “The memory care unit and where your grandmother will be staying is through these doors,” Peggy says as we walk through a large dining hall. “We’ll provide you with the access codes before you leave so you can come and go when you want. The codes keep the doors from sounding an alarm when they are opened, but any resident can get out.” She turns to me. “It’s a fire hazard to actually keep them locked, but the alarm lets us know if one of the residents does leave. It isn’t as if they can go far since they still need to get through the door to reception and then outside.”

  Great, an alarm for the escapees.

  It’s a relief that they’re on lockdown, so to speak, because I’m positive Nana will try to bolt the first chance she gets. I could be wrong, but given the way she was in the hospital, I don’t expect her to remain here quietly. I hope the nurses know what they’re in for. I almost feel sorry for them.

  “Let’s get Mrs. Ferguson to her room and then we’ll show you around.”

  Halfway down the hall we’re led into a room with two beds. Neither of them seems to have an occupant. “There’s a bathroom and closet,” she begins to explain.

  “How do you like your room, Nana?”

  Panic flashes in her eyes before she pushes against me and steps out into the hall. “Go.” Does she understand more than I’m giving her credit for?

  “You just need to stay long enough so your arm can be treated.”

  She glares at me. “No.”

  This is going to be harder than I anticipated. But, I should have known better.

  “You’ll need to bring in about seven shirts, slacks, underwear, and maybe sweaters,” Peggy explains. “There’s more dignity dressing for the day instead of in hospital gowns.”

  “I’m not sure Nana has any clothing left after yesterday.”

  “We’ll get by until you can shop.” She returns to the hall. “We’ll do the laundry. Just make sure her name is marked inside of everything with a permanent marker.”

  Should I be taking notes? My head has been filled with so much information over the last twenty-four hours and I’m sure I’ve already forgotten something important.

  “Let’s go!” Nana is not going to want to stay here.

  I ignore her and follow Peggy past the nurse’s station and into a large room after the curve in the hall.

  “Down here we have a recreation room. There’s a television, games, books, magazines, coloring books. Sometimes we do crafts, depending on the residents.”

  There’s a couch, a few chairs and several tables for four to eight people. Some old television show is on.

  An older woman is standing by the door. “Will you
take me home?”

  She’s so sad, it nearly breaks my heart.

  “Your family will be by later, Doris,” Peggy tells her and then moves on.

  Did that mean Doris’s family was coming to take her home, or is it just said to calm the woman?

  There are several more residents sitting around. Some are staring into space, a few are just wandering. Their eyes are almost blank and reminds me of the Walking Dead without the rotting flesh.

  Oh God, is this what’s going to happen to Nana? I can’t let it. No matter what, I can’t let Nana become this.

  A young woman is at a table with four older women coloring shamrocks. Some are already on the wall and it reminds me of how we used to decorate for the holidays in my classrooms when I was a kid. These adults have reverted back to the basics, or so it seems, but how can I really tell without interaction?

  “We also serve meals in here.”

  Nana’s wandered to a back door and is looking out. This door also has a code pad on it. Beyond is a walled-in garden with raised planting beds and several bird feeders.

  “When the weather permits, we take the residents out.”

  Nana would like that. She loved feeding the birds at home. Maybe she could do that here too. “Are they allowed any personal items, besides clothing?” I’m not sure what I could bring her, but something that would help her be a little more comfortable.

  “You can put a television in her room and you can bring in family photos, which we’ll hang on the wall. Just make sure to remove the glass and find frames with non-sharp edges. Half of the room will be her home.”

  Temporary home, I remind myself.

  “Why don’t we leave your grandmother to get settled and the two of us can go over the paperwork.”

  I already did paperwork at the hospital. Didn’t they send it here?

  “We need you to sign off for us to bill Medicare, determine her dietary needs, everything to make her stay as pleasant as possible.”

  She’s smiling at me and I envy her optimism. Given how Nana behaved in the hospital, I don’t anticipate any of them having a pleasant stay.

  “Shouldn’t I get her settled first?”

  “We’ll take care of it.” Peggy calls over to a nurse, or attendant, I’m not really sure, and takes her over to Nana to introduce her.

  “I’m going to go, Nana. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Go.” All of a sudden she’s excited. Shit!

  “You need to stay here so they can take care of your arm. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I start backing out of the room.

  “Go. Go. Go.” She rushes for the hallway. This isn’t going to work.

  “You’ll need to sneak out,” Peggy tells me.

  Nana is already ahead of me, headed down the hall and toward the rooms where the residents sleep. What do I do now? I can’t exactly sneak past her.

  “There are two doors into this unit,” Peggy whispers to me. As soon as Nana has turned the corner and can’t see me any longer, Peggy takes me to the double doors at the opposite end. There’s a mural painted on it and I hadn’t even realized it was a door. Did they paint it to fool the residents?

  “Most people don’t use these doors coming in, but the staff uses it at times.”

  We exit, onto the other side of the dining room and I glance over at the door we originally entered. There is a small glass window and Nana is looking out it. Her eyes widen when she sees me. I can’t hear her but I can imagine what she’s saying.

  My stomach churns, and not just from the smell in this place. I’m leaving her alone with strangers when she’s hurt and confused. But, I can’t take care of her right now. I don’t have a place for us to live and I don’t know how to take care of a second-degree burn. And, I need sleep. If Nana is with me, I might never sleep again.

  I’m the worst person alive. A coward. Running away and leaving her alone.

  Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. As much as I hate this, and am guilty because I’m relieved to have some of the responsibility taken from my shoulders, I also know they can help her. It is best for Nana, even if I’ve betrayed her and gone back on my promise. What’s important, is they can take care of her and will find the right meds so I can take her home.

  I keep repeating that to myself as I walk through the nursing home. All will work out in the end.

  But, no matter how many times I remind myself, it doesn’t take away the knot in my gut as I walk away. Leaving her all alone!

  A headache is beginning at the base of my skull, I’m nauseated and my hands shake by the time Peggy leads me to her office. I should’ve put something with more substance than coffee in my stomach today.

  I take a seat and she hands me a folder. “This will explain everything and includes a list of things you need to bring in for her.”

  She then produces documents upon documents and asks for the Power of Attorney, which she copies and gives back. She asks about diet, allergies and all kinds of things that I actually know the answers to. And as I’m finally signing the papers to have Nana live here, I feel like I’ve completely betrayed her and tossed away her trust. I’ve just handed over my responsibility to others and committed her to a place I promised I’d never send her.

  How can I live with myself after this?

  My mind can reason that it’s for the best and that I really have no choice, but my emotions are not accepting it. The two are at war with each other and I’m afraid I’m going to be sick as a heavy weight settles around me.

  “It’s best if you don’t visit for a week.”

  “A week?” She can’t be serious.

  “It’s best for the residents.”

  “How can that be?” This woman cannot expect me not to see my grandmother for a full week. How will I know if she is okay? That they are treating her right? I’ve seen news shows about how nursing homes can be and isn’t it my responsibility to see that Nana is getting the best care.

  “We need the time to get her acclimated. If you are here all the time she is going to think she is leaving. It is better for her, you and us, if she gets settled in and used to being here before she sees you again.”

  But, she will be leaving, eventually. I just have no clue when that will be or how long it will take to find the right drug combination. “How will I know if she’s okay, if she needs anything, if her arm gets worse?”

  Peggy smiles at me, her eyes are full of compassion. “I know it’s hard, but I promise, a nurse will call you daily with an update.”

  “You promise?” How can I just leave her?

  “Yes.” She stands. “When you bring clothing and photos back, just leave it at the front desk and we will get it to her.”

  “Sure.” My mind is reeling with everything that has happened, lack of sleep, what I still need to do, and the fact that I’ve just left Nana confused and alone.

  The sun is just about to set when Jenna pulls up to her grandmother’s the house and gets out. She’s pale and there are circles under her eyes. Has she gotten any sleep? Even her posture is defeated. I drop what I’m doing and go to her. “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve would’ve come to get you.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you,” she answers flatly, looking around.

  Bother me? Did Saturday night mean nothing? I told her I loved her. Was falling in love with her. That’s as close to a commitment to anyone I’ve ever made. And she didn’t want to bother me?

  She also believes the house fire may not have happened if she hadn’t been fucking me all night.

  Maybe she doesn’t feel the same about me as I do her.

  I catch Dylan’s eyes and he’s shaking his head, as if he could read my mind. He’s right. Now’s not the time to question her about that. “How is Nana?”

  “They moved her to Memory Gardens.”

  “The nursing home?”

  “They couldn’t handle her at the hospital but she still needs medical care.”

  I also know they have a memory care unit, but am afr
aid to ask if that’s where she is. There are about twenty or twenty-five patients with dementia and Alzheimer’s living there at the moment. “How are you?”

  She still isn’t looking at me, but at the house. “What’s going on?”

  “We thought we’d clean up for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She takes a step toward the house and then stops. “How bad?”

  “The only things we could save from the office were papers in the desk.”

  “Grandpa’s fireproof desk.” She laughs dryly. “That thing is heavy, and the reason we never could move it.”

  “Well, it did protect important papers. They’re on the front seat of my truck.

  “What about the rest of the house?”

  “Everything in the living and dining room is destroyed and there’s smoke damage throughout the rest of the house. I’m sorry.”

  She nods and slumps.

  “An insurance guy came by earlier.”

  She frowns and then relaxes. “I forgot I called them.”

  Her voice is so flat. I don’t know if it is because she’s tired or she’s blocked her emotions. “Why don’t I take you home to rest? It’s getting too dark to work anymore.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

  I step in front of her. Jenna hasn’t looked at me once. “You aren’t fine. You’re exhausted. Let me take care of you.”

  She blinks up at me. Her eyes are nearly dead. Did she get any sleep last night? She’s been going for thirty hours or more.

  “Take her home, Cole,” Dylan says as he comes up. “Kian and I will lock the place up then bring her car to her apartment.”

  “I’ll drive home. Can you put the papers in my car?” She pulls away from me and starts digging in her purse. “Thanks for doing this.”

  Without a backwards look, she walks to her car, gets in, waiting for Dylan to put the papers into the passenger side before driving off. “I’m worried about her.”

  “Me too,” Kian agrees. He and Alexia have joined me and Dylan on the lawn.