At the beginning of December, Lucy and I visited the UCHospital, London, in our capacity as volunteers. We entered T10 ward and chanced upon a little old lady called Margaret, sitting in an armchair at the side of her bed. She was a little confused in her head, and a little shaky with her arm movements. However, she was very chatty and quite sharp with her wit, her eyes darting around, watching what was happening.
Lucy and I chatted with her, reassuring her where she was. I had a selection of 4 keyrings in my bag that I’d bought at a Turkish stall in Putney, the week before. On each keyring was a small cat, handcrafted in cotton, and padded inside, with two buttons sewn in for eyes. [See picture.] On the spur of the moment, I decided to show Margaret the four cats, to grab her attention. She was fascinated by each of the cat’s faces, and I asked Margaret if she’d like to choose one to keep. Without too much hesitation, she chose the one in the picture. She put the key ring around one finger and held the cat in the palm of her hand. Margaret was so excited, and she named the cat, “Bug Eyes”.
A week later, Lucy and I revisited the ward. When Margaret saw us coming, she cried out “Bug Eyes!”, recognising both Lucy and me. Lucy was quite chuffed that Margaret had remembered us, however as we approached, Margaret said she had lost Bug Eyes. Lucy began to look around Margaret’s bed and table but couldn’t find Bug Eyes. But within a few minutes, Margaret exclaimed, “I’ve found Bug Eyes, he’s in my pocket!”
In another bay, I met two elderly male patients who were sitting opposite each other: Joe and Gerry. Joe was a small man, hunched up in his chair and wearing pyjamas. I offered him a cheery “hello Joe,” but all that came back from Joe was an accusatory “You’re wearing my shoes”. I foolishly asked him to tell me which size shoes he wears, guessing his shoe size would be larger than mine, but all he said again was “You’re wearing my shoes!” On reflection, I should have congratulated Joe on the comfort of his shoes and saying I was only borrowing them for the morning, though, I don’t know where that would have got me! Logic is out the window when living with dementia.
My mother had Alzheimer’s and would often misidentify me. I could be one of 4 different people: her son, her brother, the lodger, (there was no lodger), and someone who had no right to be in the house at all! I remember once protesting with her at the kitchen table, telling her I would get my passport to prove my identity. I ran upstairs to get my passport and hurried down to show her, but she was resolute, saying to me,” you’ve stolen my son’s passport”. It was a no-win situation.
Back to the ward, I began to talk to Gerry, a tall man sitting in his armchair. He looked very grumpy and miserable, and so he proved to be! I asked Gerry if he would like me to play music through my Bluetooth speaker. “No, no”, he replied, “you’re trying to con me.” Big mistake. When I tried to remonstrate with him, he became more insistent that I was trying to con him. I changed tack and managed to extract from him that he liked Bill Haley. I jumped on this and said, “Bill Haley and the comets?” (Hooray, I had his attention.) He told me about this act appearing at a London venue. He questioned me what had happened, and I guessed that the public was dancing when they shouldn’t have been. “And what next?” asked Gerry, still in a grumpy mood. Well, I had no idea and confessed my ignorance. “Well, the police raided the place, to stop the dancing,” said Gerry.
By this time, Gerry had transported himself back to the fifties and talked about his girlfriend of the time, and how they would spend time jiving at the local town hall. He became quite gentle in his remembrance of her, saying she was a lovely girl. I was thinking how well I had done in teasing his memory and getting him to speak to me. I thanked him for his stories and wished him goodbye. With dead seriousness, he shouted out, “But I know you’re trying to con me.” He had reverted to Mr. Grumpy!
But my memories of that day are of Bug Eyes, the cat. I had put these 4 keyrings in my bag that morning, not with any real intention of showing them to anyone, but I’m so glad I did. I’m so glad Margaret really, really appreciated Bug Eyes. HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE.
