Friday, March 10, 2017

The Little Boy

Anna fast asleep in front of the TV



Anna is slowing down. He is sleeping more and walking less. Most days when I go to his apartment in the morning (before work) and in the evening (after work), I am never sure if he is going to be awake or asleep. A couple of weeks ago, I reached his apartment at 7am after my morning walk. My signature double-tap doorbell ring normally announces to Anna that I have arrived, so I am not surprised to see his eyes are open when I lean over his bed.

Me: Anna? Are you awake?

Anna (looking at me, but not really looking at me): mumble...gurgle....mumble

Me: Good morning!

Anna (still just looking straight at me without seeing me): mumble...mumble....mumble

Me: Anna, I can't understand you. Wait a minute. Let's get you up so that you can drink some hot water.

We lift Anna so that he is sitting up in bed and he drinks a full glass of hot water.

Me: Anna, did you sleep well?
Anna says something to me in Tamil. I don't understand.

Me: Anna, I can't understand Tamil. Say it in Kannada.
Anna continues to talk in Tamil. I understand only a few words. Something about boys and playing and football and thirst.

Me: Anna, what happened? Tell me in English.
Anna (in a complaining whiny voice): He hit me!

I am instantly worried.  It is almost a physical reaction. I have always feared that I would be unable to prevent Anna from getting hurt or worse still not even know about it, as I am not physically present in his flat all the time.

Me (concerned): Who hit you, Anna?
Anna (still looking at me, straight through me): He did.

Me (thinking it is best to wake him up with coffee to get a more cogent response): Anna, do you want to get up and have coffee and tell me about it?
Anna (in a voice that should be accompanied with a pout): I don't want coffee. I want milk.

Whoa! My father does not want coffee? Now that's a first! I am really surprised.

Tairas (his housekeeper) gets him a warm glass of milk with Ensure. I hold the glass to his lips for him to drink and he gulps it down thirstily.

Me (after he finishes): Anna, you sure liked the milk. You were telling me about getting hit. What happened?
Anna (singing): Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!

Me: (laughing): Whose birthday is it Anna?
Anna: mumble....mumble. His eyes start to close.

I tuck Anna back into bed and wait till he closes his eyes. I finish the chores in the house and walk home letting the morning's events run thru my mind.

Half way home I realize that I don't hear Anna's voice. I hear a little boy's voice. Maybe the little boy he was. 

5 comments:

  1. There is no easy response to what you have described. I have paused to think about what I feel. We take the older people we grew up with for granted. This would be disorienting. Thank you for writing as you do.

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    Replies
    1. Many of the conversations I have with my father take away a piece of my heart and head. I think that writing is a way for me to get them back.

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  2. Must be very disconcerting when the brain plays games. Thank you for continuing to shed light on the impact of dementia on a person. Respect and gratitude Sangeeta

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  3. My husband was diagnosed with early onset Parkinson's disease at 57.his symptoms were shuffling of feet,slurred speech, low volume speech, degradation of hand writing, horrible driving skills, right arm held at 45 degree angle, things were tough for me, but now he finally free from the disease with the help of total cure from ULTIMATE LIFE CLINIC, he now walks properly and all symptoms has reversed, he had trouble with balance especially at night, getting into the shower and exiting it is difficult,getting into bed is also another thing he finds impossible.we had to find a better solution for his condition which has really helped him a lot,the biggest helped we had was ultimate life clinic they walked us through the proper steps,am highly recommended this www.ultimatelifeclinic.com to anyone who needs help.

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