riotheclown

Isabel is a friend of my mother's who was always very kind to me. She had a sense of humour that somehow never seemed unkind. I say "had"   because she seems somewhat gone now. She began a rapid decline last year and, after living alone in her own home for many years, her daughters decided she had to go to a home. At one point I suggested to my mother and her that she move in here. Of course G.D. would not want any one here for any length of time, witnessing her in less that stage ready form, at this point though, their needs are too great, but I am really fond of Isabel. She is sweet to my mothers salt. So for two reasons I offered to accompany G.D. to visit her, G.D. needs help these days and I really wanted to see Isabel.

We were driven there (two hours outside of Toronto) by Val, my mother's b.f.'s daughter. She is my age. We have known each other since we were kids. She actually taught me how to swim. I like her. She is gruff, been a school teacher for a zillion years, (looking forward to retiring in three) and essentially kind. She and her mother have a funny relationship, they bicker non-stop. It is interesting to watch the dynamic, at one point on the way back I had to laugh they got so ridiculous.





Isobel was in bed when we got there. She didn't answer the phone or the door, which was open. We walked in and woke her. She has gotten so thin. She had had an accident so I helped her with some clean clothes I brought to her in the bathroom. We went down to the dining room and had lunch. Isobel actually chastised G.D. for not eating more. It was a tense lunch with long silences. All three of them ate the pudding so I suggested we get another round of puddings but got no takers.

After lunch we went to the lounge and one of the residence came in with her little dog named Jaylo. He is a popular character around the home. At one point a woman came into the lounge with an attendant, looked at me with recognition, pointed and asked, "What are YOU doing here?"
I don't know.
"Neither do I! Do you know what is going to happen next?"
No, do you? Does anyone?
She looked at her attendant who said, "I just don't worry about it!"
We all laughed.

It was similar to conversations I have had with people on peyote.

G.D. was exhausted and cranky but managed to curtail any snarkiness. She did at one point sit and whisper to Isobel. Her B.F. asked her what she was doing and she said, "I'm trying to see how bad her hearing really is".

On the drive home Val and I enjoyed ranting about Prime Minister Harper and Donald Trump and the upcoming elections. I got her email so I could send her some photos I took of the visit. (She had left us to wander around the town, which has been there for two hundred years or so.)

It is still stiflingly hot in southern Ontario. When we got home I did some BBQ chicken and sweet peppers for dinner. G.D. actually ate everything and then went to bed at 8:00pm saying, "Thank you, you were wonderful with Isobel but it was too much, too long."

As beautiful as the facilities are at the home I have no doubt G.D. is happy to be in her home.

I have to deal with her as she is at this stage of her life. I will not rewrite the past to suit a rosy picture of her design but will let it go. I will adopt the frame of mind of one living with peyote eaters. No open flames and hide the pointy things.