Where Everybody Knows Your Name

With pandemic restrictions easing, we've moved into a new stage for our visits with Lizzie in the nursing home.

My sister and I are now fully vaccinated. Lizzie has been fully vaccinated for a few months.

Because of that, we are now allowed to visit her without our face shields. We still wear our masks, but the clear plastic shields that cover our faces are no longer required. Yay!

When I arrived at the nursing home, Lizzie was sitting at her table in the dining room. I waved when I walked in as I always do. I walked toward her smiling.

Before I could say my usual greeting (Hi Mom. It's Jemi! I'm here for a visit), Lizzie smiled back and said, "My baby."

This is the first time she's recognized me in months.

I did a happy dance and made her laugh.

About 30 minutes into the visit, Lizzie turned to me and said, "What's your name?"

"I'm Jemi."

Big smile. "I have a daughter named Jemi."

"That's so nice."

Then she turned back to her meal and took another bite. Sure, I could have said I was her daughter, but that seemed a little mean. She was happy and content and I didn't want her to lose that.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

So, you win some, you lose some!

Even if it was just for a few moments, Lizzie recognized me without prompting.

Day = Made!

How about you? Any easing of restrictions? Any reactions to wearing fewer pieces of PPE?

Small Gratitudes

 As we all know, the pandemic has been hard. Really hard.

In Lizzie's nursing home, the residents live in units of about thirty people. At the beginning of the pandemic, those rooms were full.

They are no longer full.

Death is a part of life, and in a nursing home, it is much closer than for most people.

Lizzie is at a stage in the dementia process where she rarely thinks of the people surrounding her unless they are right in front of her and interacting with her. She spends a lot of her time thinking about her childhood and her parents and brother.

When we're with her, she thinks about us. When she's with the people living in her unit, she thinks about them.

Photo by Gert Stockmans on Unsplash

The cliché Out of sight, out of mind, is often true for her right now. Which isn't a bad thing.

She doesn't realize that over the past year, she has lost many of her friends. She doesn't realize that in the past week, the two people she was closest to in her unit have died.

She's not grieving their deaths like we are.

When she passes their rooms, she doesn't notice the missing photos or name plates. Or the new people. She's focused on her inner world and the parts of the outer world that affect her.

Not a bad thing.

Even in the midst of a pandemic, even in the midst of dementia, there are things to be grateful for.

Hoping you have things to be grateful for today as well. Feel free to share!