This is the first part of what I hope will be a continuing series of essays on residents of the memory care community at which I work. Names have been changed.
I was in the back lounge this afternoon talking to Andy. He's largely immobile and prefers to stay in the back away from the noise and activity of the main lounge. We had interacted several times over games and activities but this was the first time I had any extended contact with him. I had heard stories about him from my co-workers. He is notorious for ordering other residents and employees around, assigning tasks and reprimanding people for tardiness. We think he may have been a military officer at some point.
When I sat down in the chair next to his, I greeted Andy warmly with a smile and a handshake. Many Alzheimers patients do not put out a hand in greeting until you put your own out. It's like they don't remember what to do when greeting someone, but once reminded of the action it comes back immediately.
Andy shook my hand and asked my name. He is mostly deaf, so after complaining that my speaking volume was insufficient he demanded that I write my name on a slip of paper and give it to him so he could start the meeting.
I wrote Matthew Jumago on a page from my notebook and Andy took it and looked at it carefully. He interpreted my name as Martha Newbury, Martha Yaeger, Max Jamaica, and Arthur Atagrie. He settled on Arthur Newbury and then spoke up telling the room that Arthur Newbury was here to answer any questions they had about the management.
When no one responded, Andy told us all to form a line to go through the building looking for problems. He asked Ron, who has long hair, if he was a guy or a woman. Ron said he's a guy. Andy said "Good, I don't have to explain nothing!"
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