I Don't Even Know Her Name

For almost two years now, I have been playing the piano for a Sunday morning church service at a local assisted living facility that specializes in Alzheimer’s care. Playing their old gospel favorites makes them happy, and seeing the smiles on their faces makes me happy.

I will always remember my first Sunday with them. I must have been introduced to more than forty elderly women (very few men attend the services – in facilities designed for the elderly, you can really see the evidence that women frequently outlive their husbands). Several stood out to me and I have grown close to some of them over time. But there was one in particular that caught my attention then and has continued to do so. I don’t even know her name.

She was sitting in a wheelchair in a place where she could hear and see what was going on around her, but far enough away that she could pretend she was not interested. She had a scowl on her face that made her look angry at the world. I caught her gaze several times and offered a smile, but her expression never changed. Although it often seemed she was staring at me, I was not even sure she really noticed me. My friend who introduced me to the group came and sat down beside me and offered a little background on some of the women. In regard to this particular woman, my friend said “never touch her.” She warned me that this woman becomes extremely upset if anyone touches her. And she also reaffirmed my initial impression –this woman is, indeed, mad at the world.

Every Sunday for weeks I observed this angry woman in the same place with the same scowl on her face, staring. As I sat at the piano, I faced the crowd. Because she did not want to be a part of the crowd, she faced me, her back to the crowd. She made me feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I continued to return her angry stare with a smile. I even started looking for her so I could tell her hello, and on my way out, as I walked by her, I would tell her “Goodbye! I will see you next week!” She never responded. I frequently wondered why she even bothered to come to the service. I also noticed that no one else ever spoke to her and I have never seen anyone come to visit her.

Over time, I gradually started noticing some things changing with her. The first thing I noticed was that she was no longer in her wheelchair. She had graduated to a walker and had moved to an armchair close to the door, half facing the crowd and half facing me. She still stared at me, and she still looked angry. But something else changed as well. About two months ago, I arrived early and was handing out the song books. As I passed by her, she said, “I want a book.” I was stunned, but I handed her a book. I noticed the song leader looking over our way. I could tell by the look on his face that he was also very surprised! Every week since then, I have offered her a book and she has taken it. She turns the pages to the songs we are singing, but I have not noticed her singing along. Maybe this is her limit on participation. Still observing, but not really participating.

I have tried to imagine what her life must have been like before she entered this facility. She was married. She still wears her wedding ring. What was her husband like? We are in a place where there are more PhD’s per capita than any other place in the world. Was he a doctor? Did he give her a wonderful life? Was she wealthy? Her clothes would indicate so. Perhaps she was a doctor, or maybe a lawyer. Or maybe she took care of a grand home, throwing parties and entertaining family and friends. Did she have children? What about grandchildren? Maybe they visit during the week. When she has visitors, does she smile? Does she get excited and talk to them? Does she know who they are?

She seems to be in good shape physically. Not too heavy, not too thin. She is not very tall, but she seems strong for her age. I can imagine that she was once a very strong and outgoing woman. Although mostly gray now, her hair used to be black. Even in the assisted living facility, her hair is always meticulous. Without the scowl, her face would be beautiful. Could it be that she had a full, wonderful, happy life and now that the Alzheimer’s has taken over, she feels lost and afraid? Perhaps this is why she is angry. Perhaps she has lost a lot.

Today, something different happened that was completely unexpected. We had finished singing and the minister was speaking. I glanced over in her direction and noticed she was standing. She was holding onto her walker, and the song book was on the little shelf of her walker. She saw me look in her direction and nodded at me, then pointed to the book. I assumed she was trying to leave and did not know what to do with the book, so I went to her. As I approached her, she said “I need to go to the bathroom.” I said, “Okay, I will take your book so you don’t have to take it with you.” She then said, “I don’t know where the bathroom is.” I could tell she was confused. I told her I would take her. I walked around her, assuming she would follow me down the hall. I cannot describe my surprise when she let go of her walker and grabbed on to my arm. I paused, extended my hand to her, and we walked hand in hand down the hall to the restroom. During the brief walk, she commented “this is so bad.” I assumed she was referring to the fact that she did not remember how to find the restroom. So I told her, “it is okay.” As she went into the restroom, I told her I would wait outside for her. She turned around, looked at me, said “Okay, thank you,” and SMILED. She was beautiful!

Just like I never forgot the first time I saw her, I will never forget the smile I saw on her face today. Because of Alzheimer’s, she may not even remember who I am next week. I seriously doubt she will remember smiling at me this morning. And I don’t expect her to remember holding my hand as I helped her up and down the hall. But for a brief moment, I felt like I had crossed through some barrier that very few are allowed to cross. I caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman who was both embarrassed and grateful, but not angry. And even if she does not remember today, she blessed me by making my unreturned smiles and greetings over this past year all worthwhile. Next week, I will ask her name.

Welcome to My Blog

I've been writing stories for years and have often been encouraged to publish them. I love reading the stories my daughter writes in her blog, so thought maybe this would be a good forum for mine. I hope you enjoy reading the stories that I share here!