“Are you
ready to go?” I ask Joe as I put the finishing touches on the house. It’s another Open House day and I’ve got to
make sure everything is polished, arranged and staged just right for the
showings. We’re only one week into this
tedious process of making a house look like no one actually lives in it,
despite the fact that when people arrive all the lights are on and soft classical
music is playing through the cable Television’s surround sound. It’s a necessary illusion in today’s real estate
selling process and we must disappear so a client can fantasize, imagining it
as their home.
“Yes, I’m
ready,” Joe replies. “Where are we going?”
I’ve
answered the question at least four times this morning but I explain
again. “We’re just going out to lunch
and then for a bit of shopping while the house is being shown. Do you have your hat?”
“Why can’t I
just stay here?” Joe asks. “It’s my house.
I can do what I want.”
“Now Joe,
we’ve done this many times before when we’ve sold a home. Come on, the realtor
will be here in five minutes. What would
you like for lunch? Maybe we’ll go by the DQ on the way back.” (That usually gets Joe going.)
We’re
finally in the car and it’s 110 degrees today.
I’ve got to figure out how to keep Joe and Al happy for three hours when
all they really want is to be home napping
in the air conditioning.
What was I
thinking? Why did I think it would be
easy? And more importantly, how long can
we keep this up? We aren’t scheduled to
leave for our daughter’s home in California for another two weeks. By then, I’ll be completely out of anything
to occupy Joe and Al and we may have to resort to a new strategy like hiding
ourselves in a closet while people are viewing the house. What a visual that creates; Joe and I in the
closet, with Al standing behind us whispering in Joe’s ear that it’s “too
crowded in here” and he needs to go to the bathroom.
All of this
is just one giant reminder that things aren’t how they once were, before Al
showed up and moved in.
I remember
the exhilaration of selling a house we’d worked hard to revive from near death and
turned into a showplace. We’d been eager
to show the result to anyone who happened to stumble in. But that was then, and this is now, here in
Alzheimersville.
It’s a
different world here. Things are
unpredictable, and sometimes confusing. One
day Joe is with the program and seems to understand exactly what’s going on. But the next day, he’s struggling to anchor
himself against the tornado spiraling in his mind making it difficult to do
something as simple as sign his name.
Yesterday
morning, as we were sitting on the patio sipping our morning coffee, Joe points
to the house across the greenway and says, “Do you see that person over there
in the wedding dress?”
I look in
the direction he’s pointing but see no one and certainly no wedding dress. Besides, the house he’s pointing to is owned
by an 84-year-old widowed neighbor which makes it highly unlikely she would be
wearing a wedding dress.
“I don’t see
anything.” I say, “Where are you pointing?”
Joe seems
irritated, “RIGHT OVER THERE, LOOK,” he responds.
I look
again. Still nothing. Then I remember something I learned while watching
a training video produced by Teepa Snow, a leading expert on Alzheimer’s Caregiving. Teepa points out that arguing with someone
living in Alzheimersville will almost never have a successful outcome. That the best thing to do in a situation like
this is to agree and “go along with it”.
So I tell Joe that it seemed strange that Mary (that’s our neighbor’s
name) would be wearing a dress like that.
Joe agrees and the subject quickly dies.
I have to
disregard my need to be logical or right because I can’t use reason with
Joe. He no longer has the constraint of
being logical or pragmatic. To my
amazement he frequently talks about playing golf again. I could come up with all kinds of logic and
try to explain to him the unlikelihood of that happening. But in Joe’s world, he wouldn’t accept
anything contrary to what he believes.
He doesn’t have to. And for that
matter, I could be wrong. Maybe in the
right circumstances, with the right support, he could play golf.
Some days I
completely cross the line from reality to fantasy. Come to think of it, that’s what acting is
all about, and everyone knows how I love acting; transforming myself into
another person, another era, another time, another place. Maybe that’s what this is all about, I’m
rehearsing for the role of lifetime.
There I am
in fantasyland again because I know my life, Joe’s life, isn’t a
rehearsal. It’s real no matter how crazy
or illogical things may seem.
Anybody want
to buy a house?
 |
| On stage in "Light Up the Sky", playing a professional ice skater married to a Broadway producer. Now that's fastasyland. |
