PLEASE NOTE: Even though this blog is now dormant there are many useful, insightful posts. Scroll back from the end or forward from the beginning. Also, check out my writer's blog. Periodically I will add posts here if they provide additional information about living well with Dementia / Alzheimer's Disease.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Dinner Conversation

I told M, "Gregory and I like you!" And we do. She calls us her 'family,' and easily calls us  'darling' when talking to us.

"Why?" wondered M.

"Because you are a very nice person," I replied

"Well I should think so. A distant cousin said she didn't like me. Well I told her that was her loss because I am very likable. Once a woman I knew asked me if I was stupid. I told her 'Well not yet certainly, perhaps some day, but not yet.' So thank you for asking. And thank the chair as well while you are at it!"

At this point in the conversation Gregory let out a large, noisy sneeze scaring M.

"Next time," she told him angrily, "take that out to the barn!" Then she got the giggles as did Gregory and I.

B entered the conversation here with, "That was a very interesting conversation. Did you drive here tonight?" Lying, I told her that I had not, that I had walked over ... The Sabbath, you know! "Oh right," she said, "the problem is that my children are at the hotel and I need to get back there. I am not sure into which hotel they checked me."

I explained that she was checked in here already for after dinner. "But I do not know where they are right now." I explained that it didn't matter if she didn't know where they were as long as they knew where she was. This calmed her down and she said, "Well, right you are then."

"Fuck You," came the familiar shout from across the table.

W was in a good mood and ate all of her dinner, but without the usual, non-stop, repetitive  "I don't want it. Do you want it? I don't want it. I want to go to bed. Take me to my room."  Over and over and over again until both B and M would tell her to shut up!

Periodically W would get a mischievous smile on her face and wave at each person at the table. Some of us would acknowledge her wave others didn't notice it. H noticed it and replied by miming from across the table, with both hands, the fondling of her breasts. The next time she waved at him he used his fist to mime rhythmic intercourse.

A little while later, when I offered H a drink, he told me "Fuck You. You are dirty."

I told him "Spy Baba," which means "Be Good Father," in his language. His reply was "Fuck You!"

• • •

I realized that I have easily been able to enter their world and have detailed conversations at the dinner table. Most of Gregory's table mates (with the exception of "FUCK YOU!") have come to trust me, to ask for help with cutting a piece of meat or pouring more juice, or to ask for clarification or support when they are confused or frightened.

I wish I could transcribe even more of the conversations for you and you would see that while they make perfectly good sense, they make no sense! Often they are profound, or funny, or sad, or deep ... even when they make no sense!

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