Right after dealing with my mother-in-law, it has become my habit to give a full report to my daughter. (She loves to stop school, but who really likes their reading interrupted?) Anyway, when I have emerged from the mental ward, Lily will hear something like what happened last Monday: “She asked me about the river’s reaction to the dill-pillars. When I did not understand what she meant, she was shocked and retorted, ‘Haven’t you heard of dill-pillars? I can show you the pillars, if you want.’”
Lily loves to laugh at these little stories. We both wish we’d been writing them down all this time.
Sometimes in my little report, I’ll ask a rhetorical question. Lily answers anyway. For instance: “Why does she keep pulling the sheets off the bed?!!” Lily: “Because she doesn’t have anything else to do.” Yup, good old Lily-logic: dead on center, as usual.
Now, before you Reply with suggestions on how to occupy Effie, I ask that you “hope all things”: I do give her attention, diversions, interaction, and soft prop items for her hallucinations. But, for a number of reasons, it is not prudent to provide a constant rotation of books and objects. Trust me.
Yesterday we played a new game. “Hide the Dentures!” Ooh, loads of fun. My day has barely begun, and I’m crawling on the floor with a flashlight. We’ve done this a couple of times. “How about a little fuzz with those bran flakes, Mum? Yum, yum!”
A reminder, she still has times when she’s lucid. A story my older daughter told the other night had everybody in stitches. On a visit to our house, she was ready to peek in and say Hello to Grandma. I warned her that Effie had been particularly loony that day. So Emily starts out, “Hi, Grandma.” Then she says, very slowly, “I…Understand… You…Haven’t…Been… Feeling…Too…Well.” … And Granny looks right at her and replies, as clear as a bell, “I’m doing just fine. Are you all right?”