HW 27 - Visiting an unwell person

As we drove to see her I found myself in a daze. I was replaying the last time I had seen her over and over in my head. She didn’t know who I was; it was as if I didn’t exist in her mind. Strangely enough if she wasn’t born and hadn’t entered my parents life, I truly would of never existed. The car came to a stop. I was awoken out of the daze by my mother’s voice. “Come on Sarah, we are here.” She softly said to me. The last of the snow was beginning to melt; yet there was still a crunch underneath the soles of our feet as we walked.

My father reminded my mother that we needed to stop at the Hungarian pastry shop. A place that from the outside seemed dull and lifeless but once one entered they felt the smells and the sounds lifting their spirits up. I stood at the counter with my parents mesmerized by all of the sweets before our eyes. I watched my mother select exactly what she thought would bring life back to her dear friend. As we left the pastry shop the smells and the sounds started to die out, bringing us back to the crunchy sidewalk.

Entering the nursing home I heard music, I peered into a room right off the entrance and saw wheelchair after wheelchair. From what I could see they were having a New Years Eve party at 2:30 in the afternoon. We walked passed another room where yet more people in wheelchairs were dressed up and wearing hats saying ‘Happy New Year.’ We walked on to the elevator accompanied by two other nurses. The looks on their faces seemed exhausted.

As the elevator door opened there she was sitting in her wheelchair. We walked towards her and from the look on her face she seemed a little puzzled. My mother was the first to speak, she seemed to realize who she was and she said to my father, “for a moment I didn’t know who you were, only a moment though.” I could tell she didn’t know who I was. My mother introduced me to her, “This is Sarah, our daughter.” She didn’t seem to understand; maybe I was the only one who realized that.

We all sat around a table, surrounded with raspberries and the napoleon we had got from the Hungarian pastry shop. I could feel the smells and the sounds beginning to show life amongst this dark room. She exclaimed with every bite of how delicious the food was. I had never seen someone have so much pleasure and joy from the simplicity of food. She asked me questions; I wondered if deep down somewhere inside her she knew exactly who I was. A women who used to capture every moment with the snap of her camera, had little recollection of her memory anymore. All I could think about while we sat there was this was where she was going to die. This place that had become her home was also her waiting room. She seemed helpless and no longer a full human being. Although she was still breathing and still speaking, part of her seemed gone. It was as if this woman was slowly turning back into an infant with no sense of her surroundings. I wondered if she still was happy or felt alive, what had happened to her could happen to anyone. I think that is what scared me the most.