| "Where
is this Place?"
I
have lost my mind For eight months,
I volunteered once a week at an Alzheimer's care facility called the Broomhouse
Center in Edinburgh, Scotland. The six or seven elderly that the staff
and volunteers worked with were at least in the forgetful stage of Alzheimer's,
and all of them still were able to get around on their own. At the center,
we would keep physically and mentally active in games and talks and crafts.
Three or four times a year, we would take an outing. One partly sunny morning,
we got in the van and traveled to a farmhouse restaurant in a rural area.
Open fields and a blue and white sky surrounded the big white stone building.
We were there to have tea. I was to watch Bobby, a powerful small man,
who was a bit agitated. He had big gardener hands and legs that could
only throw themselves forward to walk him. I was told that he had been
blow up in World War II and was lucky to be alive. Most of the time Bobby
was very vivacious. He would break into beautiful song and would ask questions
about things. Most of his questions centered on what was going on in the
present. "What do you call that sort of thing?" he would ask
as I was placing cow salt and pepper shakers on the lunch table. At the restaurant
though, nothing interested him. Soon after a respectful time to wait for
the others to eat their cake and drink their tea, he got up and took off
through the tables. I followed thinking he was looking for the bathroom.
No need to talk to him, I thought, just follow. He stopped a waitress
and said he was looking for a place that went down. I figured he had been
there before and was looking for the bathrooms. But then he asked, "A
place that a number of people could fit into." And the urgency, the
anxiety in his voice along with his words let me know he was not looking
for the loo. He started asking everyone he could find. He walked towards
the kitchen and pointed at a cook, "Let's ask her." I looked
around for another Broomhouse volunteer or staff person's help but found
no one in view. Suddenly, I saw the bathroom; I tried to divert him. "Do you want
to go in?" and he did. Soon I was next to him peeing, and I relaxed,
kidding myself that this was what he was looking for, but no suddenly
we were outside. He questioned people walking towards the restaurant and
most were uncertain of how to react to him. One took him seriously
and said, "Maybe a mine?" "No," he
responded, "I don't think it was that sort of place." He looked
at his hand, rubbed it, "I had a bit of this blown off in it." I looked at Bobby's
grey eyes and realized I should help Bobby find what he was looking for.
His search was what was right, not diversions, not asking people, but
a full-on physical search of the premises. We were not finding it, and
I said, "Maybe it has been renovated," picturing a going down
place that had been covered over. I was really looking for it with him
now. We met up with Phyl,
a staff member, and she looked at the situation and said to Bobby, "Yes,
where is this place?" "It's out there.
But we need to go around this thing." He put his hand on the fence. Another volunteer,
Janet, stepped in and mouthed "He means Deep Sea World." Of course. Of course.
When we first pulled off the highway, a sign pointed up the road, "Deep
Sea World." He was trying to get down to the sea, miles away. I pointed at the direction
Bobby was looking. I realized that I was pointing towards the sea, but
it looked like I was pointing at sheep. I pictured Bobby's
house where we picked him up in the mornings. Across from it is a big
grass lot where several times a year sheep are delivered, sorted through,
and sold. Back on the van heading
towards Broomhouse Center, Bobby looked straight ahead. After a while
he said, "That was some kind of trip." The sheep, the restaurant,
World War II, fishing…it was all real at the same time. |
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