Aunt Jackie pointed to the large glass windows looking out onto a hilly area behind the building. “You have such lovely gardens. Are residents allowed outside? Ted loves his walks.”
“Of course, as long as they are supervised. We’d hate for someone to fall without us knowing. We use alarms on walkers, chairs, and beds to keep the nursing staff alert to problems such as fall risks.” Now Tess looked anxious. “We have an excellent record of fall prevention. You can see that on the government website that ranks homes in the area.”
“I didn’t realize there was a website.” Or really cared for that matter. I guess I should have been more interested in what a good long-term care facility looked like, for Aunt Jackie’s sake, but that was one future I couldn’t think about today. Or ever, if I was lucky. I scanned the large living room for someone who looked like Mary Jane. Her hair in the black-and-white photo had looked dark, but who knew what color it was in real life. It could be gray now.
Tess nodded. “I’ll give you the pamphlet with your visit materials before you leave. I’m sure you’ll find our home is top in the area.” She opened a door and we walked into what appeared to be the crafts room. “Here’s where our more active residents spend their days. We have speakers come in, have quilt clubs, and even craft days. We just had a fifth-grade class visit and lead the group in making Valentines.” Tess pointed to the wall. “The residents loved it.”
It looked like my elementary hallway with all the lacy hearts covering the wall, some pretty and sparkly with glitter, others with handwriting not much better than a scribble that looked like my primary care physician’s script for my prescriptions.
“Isn’t this nice, Jill?” Aunt Jackie smiled at me and pointed me toward a woman sitting alone with a journal. Her long gray hair covered her face as she wrote furiously into the notebook. As Tess continued talking about the overwhelming choices of activities a resident had for their week, the woman at the table picked up her travel mug and tried to take a drink. I watched as she tilted her head back and shook the empty cup. Then she slammed the notebook closed and wheeled over to our group.
Tess looked down at her, stroked the woman’s hair out of her face, and adjusted her flowing scarf around her shoulders. “Good morning, MJ, how are you feeling?”
“I’m dying of thirst over here. Doesn’t anyone check on an old woman anymore? What are we here for? A show for your new victims?” MJ pointed to Aunt Jackie. “You should run as fast as you can before you’re warehoused here with the rest of us.”
“Now MJ, you know all you have to do is ask and we’ll get you more coffee.” Tess waved over an aide and handed the cup to the young girl, then whispered to me, “I’m afraid she has a bit of a coffee addiction.”
“I’m not deaf, you know.” This time, MJ looked at me. “You should be ashamed of yourself, putting your mother into a place like this. I’ve lived here for years, and it never gets any better.”
“Now, MJ, you just moved in less than six months ago. You were in that home in Oregon before, remember?” Tess put a hand on the woman’s arm. “We believe in reality theory in the open wards. Once they move into the higher care area, we let them have their fantasy world.”
MJ shook her head. “There, or here, it’s all the same. Where’s that child with my coffee? I need to finish my book. People need to know about the conspiracy, and I’m not getting any younger.”
The aide came back into the room with the coffee cup and a bouquet of carnations. “Look what I found at the front desk for you. Do you want them here or in your room?”
MJ took her coffee and waved the flowers away. “Take those to the room. That man needs to stop sending me crap like this. He knows I’ll never marry him. I can’t be chained to a white picket fence, birth his babies, and raise the stupid sheepdog. I’m a free spirit.”
The aide smiled and left the room with the flowers.
Tess waited for MJ to return to her table and take a deep sip of her coffee. Then she opened the notebook and started writing again. “Her boyfriend visits every week and sends flowers. I guess he’s been her only family for years. He’s such a nice man. A bit eccentric with his clothing and hair choices, but this is California. You expect to see aging hippies, right?”
The rest of the tour I kept thinking about Austin and his real life. How long had he been living under the new name, caring for this woman who had no idea what year it was or how old she’d become? Tess must have sensed my distance because she steered us to her office to get a folder.
“I know it can all be overwhelming. Why don’t you come back later this week and have lunch on us? We can talk more then.” She handed me the folder. “In the meantime, read up on the industry, and I’m sure you’ll agree that Resting Acres is the best placement you could make for your loved one.”