I recently read a column in the paper that the phrase “God only gives you as much as you can handle” is in reality grossly misquoted and misinterpreted from the actual Bible verse. The columnist believed this saying burdens people with a belief that God gave them their calamity. As he explained, the quote is a poor paraphrase of passage, which is more accurately paraphrased as: “God will not allow us to be tempted beyond our ability to escape.” The verse is God’s promise to provide us with an out in every temptation.
“Where dear God is my escape? Please show it to me soon so I can take care of June.”
I found myself wondering whether I made a promise to my father the day before he died or if I simply took instruction on how to live my life. Either way, I struggled with understanding my moral code, the one that had been drilled into my head, that said I must obey my parents whether I agreed with them or not. Had June and I moved on from that long ago promise over the years in our relationship? Did we love each other as part of a family and as friends? Was I here to help her because I wanted to or because I felt an obligation? She needed me and I needed her. June had become the mother figure in my life and I had become her daughter.
I sucked in a deep breath. “ Please dear God help June to find her escape from the misery she is in.” I know she’s miserable and she’s lived a good long life and it takes too much energy to keep going on. Plus I don’t think she knows where she is anymore. Nothing in her brain makes sense to her.”
Sleep never came as I waited for a sign. I prayed over and over again that night that June was also patiently praying for her own path toward peace.
***
The next morning at 9 a.m, I knocked on June’s door. She had a smile on her face, dressed, hair combed and eyebrows in place as she answered the door.
“Hey June. How are you?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she answered without a hint of the anger and despair she displayed yesterday. “Make yourself some coffee. I’ll be out on the patio having a cigarette.”
I made a cup of instant coffee in the microwave I bought her one Christmas that she insisted she didn’t want or need and then proceeded to use every day. A small 600 watt countertop appliance became a miracle to an aging senior who suddenly found the stove and large oven a bit too much to manage, but didn’t want to admit it. A microwave was a trip into the 21st century that it took her some time to make but made her glad when she finally did.
“I’ve got some errands to run this morning. Lanie from the Visiting Angels is coming at two,” I said. June quietly sat with her legs crossed in a cheap plastic chair looking out at the view from her patio while puffing on a skinny cigarette. The tall pine trees gently swayed and even from the fifth floor, the movement of the pond could be seen.
“Who’s Lanie?” she asked.
“She’s from a service that provides home care for people like you who need a little extra help,” I said.
“I can smoke?” she asked.
“Yes. She’ll be here at two to ask you some questions,” I answered. “I’m going to the grocery store. Do you want to come with me?”
“No.” She sounded quite adamant about that, like I might whisk her away against her will if she left the confines of her apartment with me. “Take your key.”
She’s obsessed with me having the key. Now I’m afraid of a repeat of yesterday when she also made sure I had a key to let myself in while she was planning to be indisposed, as in dead. She wanted me to find her that way for some reason, and must have felt that I would be the only person to shed a tear for her, hold her hand for a time before sending her off without making a ruckus. She hated a lot of commotion. It’s job I wouldn’t relish but would accept for her at the right time and glad had not been bestowed upon me just yet.
I left her alone and went out as planned. The bank was the first stop where I gave them a copy of June’s power of attorney so I could transact business for her. I initially only wanted to be added to her checking account so I could pay her bills but when I explained the situation to the customer service man at the credit union, he studied my documents for several minutes. His eyes intent on the page, I didn’t want to interrupt him.
“She needs someone to take care of her. You should be added to all of her accounts,” he said. “I’ll go ahead and do that for you.”
“OK,” I answered meekly.
June had a few certificates of deposit and a checking account; that was it. I had no intention to take charge of it all because I didn’t see it as necessary. One minute she was crazy and the next perfectly in control. I didn’t do anything to stop my signature from being added. Later down the road, I thanked the bank employee over and over again for what he did even though at the time I thought he overstepped the rules.
Secondly I stopped at Wal-Mart for an elevated toilet seat and a couple grab bars for the shower. Next stop, the grocery store where I stocked up her refrigerator. We’d gone grocery shopping together for many years so I knew her food preferences pretty well. I threw in a half gallon of chocolate ice cream for good measure. She loved chocolate ice cream.
I brought home fried chicken, coleslaw and biscuits for lunch. It was far more than I wanted to eat, but June looked thin to me. I set the tiny kitchen table and called her in.
I put two pieces of chicken on her plate. Her false teeth sunk into the meaty leg tearing off a big chunk. She always liked the dark meat best. Richard had to fight her for the leg at Thanksgiving dinner every year since he loved it too. I always had more than enough white meat to satisfy me while I watched the two of them wrestle over the turkey legs.
“Tell your friend Lanie not to come,” she flashed bits of chicken and her gold false teeth.
“I’m not going to cancel our appointment.” Good try, June. Still reeling from the events of yesterday, I thought I better take all the plastic grocery bags I brought home from Publix straight to the trash room as soon as we finished eating lunch.
“This is still my house and I don’t want her to come.” She reached for the second piece of chicken, with her left hand while shoveling the coleslaw into her mouth with the right.
“June. You must have help, someone to wash your clothes and make you lunch. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone fix a meal so you didn’t have to do it yourself?”
“I don’t need help.” The salad dressing dribbled down her chin.
“Your long term care insurance will help to pay for it,” I said. “I can call the insurance company for you.” June usually responded positively if I brought money into the equation.
I allowed these nonsensical arguments to frustrate me even though I knew in five minutes she wouldn’t remember a single word. She proved that statement true over and over again yet I allowed our conversations to boggle me every time.
The phone rang at precisely two. Lanie called from the lobby.
“June. Lanie is here to talk to you. She’s on her way up,” I said.
“I can’t wait to meet your friend,” she answered cheerfully taking her place on the worn end of the sofa.
Lanie introduced herself to me at the door. I towered over her short stature. She was neatly dressed; professional yet casual with a crisp white blouse and navy blazer over cropped khaki pants and cute leather sandals.
“June. This is Lanie from the Visiting Angels. Remember I told you she was coming?”
“I remember,” she said tersely to remind me she hadn’t lost her marbles just yet. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Lanie asked if she could take a seat and June motioned for her to do so.
“Mrs. Wright, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right with you.”
June nodded.
“What did you cook yourself for dinner last night?” she asked.
“I heated up some of the roast I had left over with potatoes and green beans. I have a microwave and it comes
in very handy. Linda got it for me one Christmas. I use it all the time.”
A roast? June loved to cook and try new recipes. She perfected an osso bucco dish she found in the paper many years ago. We had it so often at her table, Richard still talked about it. After my parent’s divorce and the move to Seattle, June would cook all kinds of food for us when Steve and I spent our allotted three weeks of summer with them. Mom would be angry when we came back home, saying we had gained so much weight. I don’t know if that was so much from June’s cooking or the fact my father loved a good Dairy Queen cone and took us out for one almost every night.
Yesterday was the day we had all the commotion over plastic bags so I knew there was no leftover roast in the refrigerator but resolved myself to go along with the charade. I hoped Lanie had interviewed enough seniors tottering on the brink to know there wasn’t a roast either.
The questioning continued about doctor’s appointments, socializing, and when was the last time she’d done the laundry. June smiled and answered them confidently. She’d turned into a very proficient liar since I arrived.
“How do you get to the store to do your shopping?” Lanie asked.
“I have a driver. Ted. He takes me.”
Ted lived in an apartment in the same building as June. She paid him to drive her to the store, the hairdresser and the doctor. She liked telling people she had “a driver”. I guess it made her feel wealthy and sophisticated, neither of which she was or had ever been. She could be snooty, thinking she was better than everyone else. I learned that lesson over the years too.
“June, you’re a remarkable woman,” Lanie said to her. “How to you find your strength?”
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.” She rattled off the words of a bible verse from memory. They flowed off her tongue with ease.
I turned my head toward her. Never in all the time I knew her had I ever heard her mention God. It’s not that I didn’t believe she was a good and often kindhearted person capable of loving and caring for others. We never spoke about it. Dad only went to church when he had to, for a wedding or a funeral. Mom dragged all of us kids off to church every Sunday no matter what, whether we liked it or not. He refused to go and stayed home.
June had never shown the slightest interest in church or even a belief in God, at least not to me. I found her wallet later, after a time she finally relinquished her purse to me, stuffed with newspaper clippings and handwritten notes with prayers and sayings she saved over the years. Little tidbits that gave her strength were tucked away with a list of her prescription drugs, the phone number of the long-term care insurance company and a Publix check cashing card.
Little pieces of my heart began to crumble. All the love and energy we could have shared would now be lost. As an adult, I was also not a churchgoer but I found a spiritual energy deep within me that kept me going through good times and bad. If only we had found that bond between us earlier, maybe this part of our journey together could be easier, softer, and calmer.
“I never heard her say that before. June say that again. I like it.”
Calmly June repeated the Proverb. Lanie reached for June’s hand.
“Thank you for inviting me into your home. This was lovely,” she said.
Lanie gathered up her things and I walked her to the front door.
“Let me see who I can find and I’ll be in touch with you. Her smoking is problem, you know,” she said. “She needs some shoes with some support. Has she been to a podiatrist recently?”
I explained I knew the shoes were not good but the family had been struggling to get her into a better fitting pair for years. “She’s pretty stubborn, in case you haven’t figured that out.”
Lanie winked.
For the first time since I arrived, I felt relief, like I had made some progress.
***
I stayed with June a few more days to get things in order. I fed her and she ate like she’d been starving herself. She had been either forgetting to eat or subsisting on cheese and crackers since using the stove had become too difficult. She loved the elevated toilet seat, a fact I didn’t need to know but she shared with me any way.
It’s funny how now I began to realize the large number of secrets June managed to keep from me all the years we were having girlfriend chats over wine and dinner. I was under the impression we shared almost everything, talking and laughing like old friends. Now reality began to set in. June shared with me only what she thought I needed to hear. Our bond only a fragile thread stretched increasingly more thin through time.
Confident Lanie would send someone to be with June in a couple of days, I cancelled my appointment to visit a local assisted living facility in Boca Raton, and drove home. Exhausted and spent, I only wanted to crawl into my own bed and go to sleep. I fully intended to wake up the next morning ready to march on into whatever happened next, praying it would have nothing to do with death or smoking.
I started making lists of things to do. I called the doctor, the lawyer, and other assisted living homes near my home. I needed a back up plan too. I called Lanie to see how the search for June’s companion was going. Her voice mail announced she’d be unavailable for the rest of the week. The receptionist at the Visiting Angels couldn’t help. She couldn’t find June’s file. A strange and terrifying electrical jolt surge through my body.
Before I could think about what to do next, the phone rang.
Ted, the driver.
“I haven’t driven her to the store in several weeks. She has to be out of food,” he said.
“I was with her and stocked her up with food,” I said.
“You were here?” he asked.
“I was with her for the past week,” I answered.
Ted would not be the first person, nor would he be the last, to express surprise when I announced I’d been to see her. My first thought when this happened was if he was so concerned about her, why hadn’t he shown up at her door or called while I was there? He lives in the same building so it’s not that he has to go out of his way to knock on her door. Come to think of it, the entire visit, I ran into Rosemary only once. Joe and Darlene never called or came over either. None of the neighbors who she insisted were her friends made the slightest effort toward her.
Don’t take this the wrong way. I get it that people are living far too busy lives to do my job for me, and I don’t expect them to. But when they take the time to call me and tell me what I should be doing, I hope they have some first hand experience to relay to me. Am I expecting too much?
My next thought is he must think I’m a terrible person, and he, being the Good Samaritan has taken on the job of setting me straight.
“I don’t think I can take her out anymore,” he announced. “I’m 80 you know and I can’t lift her anymore into my vehicle. I think she needs a wheelchair.”
He’s the one who drove her to the medical supply store to buy the walker that resides in the corner of the dining room gathering dust. Has he ever seen her use it to get around? Now he wants her to use a wheelchair. She wouldn’t sit in it. In her mind a wheelchair labels her as old and disabled, neither of which she’s willing to admit she is. Other people would see her as frail and feel pity. Her pride wouldn’t let anyone think such a thing about her.
“Ted, you’ve been so kind to June over the years. I really appreciate all your help.” I sucked in a deep breath before piling on more halfhearted compliments. “I completely understand if you don’t want to drive her any longer. I’m trying to make some other arrangements for her. I’ll start looking for another driver too.”
“June’s a nice lady. I enjoy talking with her when we go out,” he said.
“Does she owe you any money? I’m paying all of her bills now,” I asked.
“She does owe me forty dolla
rs. She’s out of cash, you know,” he answered without a second of hesitation.
I took down Ted’s address and phone and promised to send him a check. He says I can call him until I find someone else. I thanked him again for all he’s done for her. I slam down the phone. He’s just scammed me out of forty dollars and if he knows she’s out of cash, he probably helped himself to that too. If mailing a check gets him off my back, it’s a small price to pay to get him to go away.
As I walked down the path into elder care, I would come to know how important money was in the whole process of caring for the elderly. A whole segment of our economy now hinges on the care and service to elderly people who no longer posses the mental capacity to manage their own finances. They prey on the caretakers who are desperate to see their loved ones are well taken care of in their final phase of life.
Ted cashed his check promptly and I never heard from him again.
“Blame none, Linda, love all.” - The Universe
Chapter Twenty-Nine
My cell phone rang about ten o’clock the next morning. June.
“Hello.”
“Linda. I’m not moving. Don’t make any more plans for me!” June said into the phone so loudly, I held it away from my ear. “I know you and Richard mean well but I’m not going.”
Calmly I said, “I understand. I only want you to be safe.”
“I have to have my cigarettes,” she wailed and hung up the phone.
Less than ten minutes later, the phone rang again.
“Hi, June,” I said.
“How did you know it was me?” she demanded.
“Your name popped up on the caller id,” I answered knowing she had no idea what caller id was.
“I have to be able to smoke,” her gravely voice roared into my ear.
A Bittersweet Goodnight Page 19
