The stifling humidity did nothing for my already sweaty palms and pounding heart. I remind myself to breathe more than once as our car wound around the narrow North Carolina roads bringing us closer to a place I never wanted to go. Memory Care Unit. Alzheimer’s. Beloved Grandma (AKA- Nannie). I try to steady my mind. My racing heart. My burning eyes. But still the tears pool and spill over as we pull up to the charming white building.
She asks, “Where’s that other guy?” She means my brother, but cannot retrieve his name from her torn up brain. (I wonder later if she is asking about my ex-husband?) We head to her room (ignoring unpleasant smells) and sit in more silence than we’re used to with Nannie. She cannot converse as she once did. She scrambles to put together words and sentences that make sense, but cannot tell which is which anymore. We complement her room. Her chair. The way her hair is cut. We say how much we love her brand new carpet.
Suddenly a man enters with a carpet cleaner. He heard there had been a nighttime “accident” that needed to be cleaned up. Nannie does not have a roommate…we sit in silence as he cleans the carpet. Pulling the huge machine back and forth, back and forth over the offending stain. Nannie has no idea why he has come. What has happened to the carpet? She doesn’t seem phased in the least.