Dangling her between reality and illusion, those two frequently seemed to collide her world.
It was 6:30 in the morning when I entered her room. There, she was seated with legs crossed by the side of her bed. It was near the end of my shift, and I made rounds to ensure the patients’ well-being was being met. On entering her room, I was struck by Mrs. Dewey’s beautiful, flawless skin glowed in the dimness of the early morning light streaming through her window as the beams of sunlight bounced off her blinds that enmeshed her snow-white hair.
Mrs. Dewey’s hair falls loosely to her shoulders, framing her face, accentuating the oval shape of her intense blue eyes. Her radiating beauty, petite frame, and youthful features show a healthy lifestyle at five feet three inches tall. Calling out softly, so as not to startle her, I said,
“Hi, Mrs. Dewey, good morning, it’s Madge!”
She observed me, trying to understand what was being said to her. It pulled at my heart. I had only half an hour left on the clock, but time wasn’t something she had much of, yet I did! Moving my chair in her space, I sat beside her, studying her blank stare. Physically, she was present at the moment. However, Alzheimer’s was swiftly erasing the life she knew and chiseling away at her like a dutiful sculptor, shifting the axis of her life off balance—dangling her between reality and illusion, hurrying her to her fateful demise. (To be continued.)