The Meadow 111 tomorrow’s Wednesday. So what’s today, Mom? You can do it. Just tell me the date.” By now Fran has reverted to singing. Blue moon...you saw me standing... But Lisa digs in harder. It’s as if her mother’s loss is her loss, too. While the aide folds and refolds the laundry, Lisa holds up yet another picture of the family. “My high school graduation, Mom. Here’s me, Brian, Lauren, and Daddy. Remember Marvin, Mom? Remember your husband, Marvin?” Rarely, there are moments of recognition. Moments where Fran’s eyes will twinkle and a light shines. She’ll glance around the apartment and know who and where she is. But what follows is invariably painful. “Marvin, where’s Marvin? He should be home for dinner by now.” And for perhaps the hundredth time, Lisa will tell her that Marvin’s dead. By New Year’s, the social worker demands a meeting. They’re parked in a small office. Outside, a line of walkers and wheelchairs are making their way to bingo. The social worker’s black. Bulky. Busy. Since her schedule’s a mile long, there’s no time for social niceties. Piles of papers sit on her desk. On the wall, her family smiles. “Your mother is deteriorating more quickly than we expected, Lisa. We had to up her meds. She’s grown agitated and anxious. Especially after your visits.” Lisa sits a little straighter in her chair. “So we take her to get detoxed, so to speak. To our lounge on the first floor. We’ve got Nathan’s hot dogs. Sinatra singing. And tapes of old movies on a loop. It takes them back to New York in the 50’s. Makes them happy.” Lisa’s appalled. “So you’re aiding and abetting her delusions?”
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy ODQ3NA==