Doorway…

 

Another night of unsettling screams.  Cursewords mixed with prayers spread throughout the darkness.  Any chance of sleep was fleeting, just like the memories escaping from the room down the hall.  It would go on for hours, frenetic energy, fueled by a demon who made her keep searching and held the person she once was…hostage. 

I stood outside the doorway to her room, waiting for that one right moment to enter, hoping she might remember, armed in case she didn’t.  Tonight, my weapon of choice was a plate with oatmeal cookies instead of the graham crackers that she hated.  For a moment, I was a little girl again, clutching a teddy bear for comfort,  wanting, needing a mother who wasn’t there.

 

 

 

Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #53: Pitch Perfect

This week your Flicker of Inspiration prompt is to give us a pitch. A perfect pitch. Think of the description on the back of your favorite novel, the words that make you buy that book for your Kindle, the short paragraphs that let you know you MUST read that book.

I worked cookies into my pitch because of the role they played when I was caregiver for my late mother, thus the name of my book, “Another cookie, please!”.   Just about every combative situation (and there were many) could be dealt with by distracting her with a cookie, preferably chocolate chip.  Once, I made the mistake of handing her graham crackers which she promptly flung back at me.   The crackers made it clear across the kitchen table.  She had a good arm.

 

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Comments

  1. Fabulous, Patty! This definitely made me want to read more of the story, and since I have had the opportunity to read parts of the story hear on the blog, I know just what a wonderful job you did of describing those intense emotions revolving around your mother and the disease that haunted you both. I especially loved your last line. It pulled me in the most.

    • Patty says:

      Thanks Katie!

      I’ve been working on revisions to my little book and this prompt was a gift. I’m so grateful for the inspiration!

  2. Jennifer Sparano-Weisgal says:

    Extremely vivid and emotional.

  3. Jennifer Sparano-Weisgal says:

    I really felt the emotion.

  4. May says:

    So compelling. This is a story I would (and do) read…not because it would give me joy, but because the little girl is too important not to have a chance to tell her story.

  5. Jester Queen says:

    It’s rather wonderful that she could be distracted by a cookie, but it’s heartbreaking, too, because it shows how deeply she had lost herself and reverted to some other state. I particularly like the part where you mention the demon holding hostage the person she once was. Have you read Sue Miller’s The Story of my Father? It’s about her late father’s descent into Alzheimer’s.

    • Patty says:

      Distraction plays a big part in dealing with a Dementia patient, Jessie. In my mother’s case, I found that she was unable to focus on something for very long, with the exception of her countless escape attempts when she was sundowning. Her persistence could usually be diverted with something sweet to eat but, of course, a few hours would pass and she would be on another mission to take off.

      Recently, at work, a client with Dementia missed an appointment and showed up at the salon on the wrong day. Her stylist started going on and on about days, times and telling the elderly woman about future scheduling. The woman became flustered and combative and I went over and complimented her on the outfit she was wearing. The distraction worked and her attitude calmed. To make it easier for her, I wrote out her future salon visit schedule and gave it to her husband. For now, it will help; at least until she moves into another stage of the disease.

      Have you read “Do I Know You?” by Bette Ann Moskowitz? Beautiful book!

      As always, thanks Jessie!

  6. Heather Bush says:

    Captivating. I want to read more, but also tingling, fearful, distrustful of who might be beyond that doorway…

    Good work.

    • Patty says:

      Even though it was my mother behind that door, I felt the same tingle, fear and distrust of the stranger she had become, Heather.

      Thank you!

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