Strange Days
Christmas Day was strange.
Well Christmas Eve was pretty unusual too. Everything felt out of place and wrong. Nothing to do in the kitchen, no sense of festive cheer, drinking alone...going to bed alone.
Christmas morning felt just like any other day of the past ten months. Unsure how early the care home would be serving dinner we got there about 11.30, driving swiftly through eerily empty streets not yet filling with the midday rush.
Rosemarie was very drowsy when we arrived - medication rather than tiredness I felt. She didn't recognise me or our son and kept closing her eyes and dropping her head to her chest. About midday something seemed to click inside her and she became more alert, seeing us for the first time. By the time dinner arrived she was properly awake and interacting.
The chef at the care home had done an amazing job and the Christmas dinner would not have disgraced a restaurant. The turkey was moist and tasty and there was a selection of vegetables and glass of wine if we wanted it. Rosemarie ate well, seated at the table between my son and me, and seemed cheerful and chatted almost continuously. Christmas pudding and brandy sauce followed and she ate that too. After dinner the care staff handed out Christmas presents to the residents and there was overall a really nice atmosphere.
We took her back to her room to open the presents we had brought for her, and then took her downstairs to the Therapy Room with its light show to relax her a bit.
Both our families had a tradition that everything stops for the Queen's Speech at 3 and as a family we carried this on even though we don't take the broadcast seriously so it was back up to her room for that. She paid it no attention at all.
Afterwards we were planning to take her downstairs again for another change of scene - maybe to the Library where it was quiet and we could have a sing song, but something strange happened: Puss In Boots came on the TV and she became interested. She didn't actually watch it - she hardly notices the screen at all now - but the soundtrack seemed to connect with her. The world-weary or cynical tone of the cat's one-liners seemed to amuse her and she began to laugh a lot. She still never looked at the screen and I do not think she actually understood what was being said (much of it would have been much too fast for her to follow) but she kept laughing at exactly the right time.
By the time the film was over it was nearly supper time (5 o'clock) and we were due at my daughter and son-in-law.
Leaving was every bit as difficult and guilt-sodden as I thought it might be. I think if I had been on my own I would have stayed at least until she was in bed, and probably much later.
I don't actually think she registered that it was Christmas, but the atmosphere definitely got to her and I think she enjoyed it. So did I after a fashion.
I drove away and we spent the evening at my daughter and son-in-law's house with his side of the family (my side would visit Boxing Day). A much more traditional Christmas feeling that felt strangely out of joint to me without Rosemarie there.
I stayed the night and went back to see her Boxing Day. She was tired and quiet and then agitated and tearful. She was not particularly pleased to see me and I felt that the brief glimmer of Christmas was over.
Then back to meet my family - or about half of it. My sister and her partner and children could not make it because she was not well, so it was a bit subdued anyway and I dare say I did not add much energy to the proceedings.
Maybe I will get the hang of it and be better next year. I thought I was at last starting to get some sense of equilibrium, but it feels like I spoke too soon.
As they say, humility is endless.
Well Christmas Eve was pretty unusual too. Everything felt out of place and wrong. Nothing to do in the kitchen, no sense of festive cheer, drinking alone...going to bed alone.
Christmas morning felt just like any other day of the past ten months. Unsure how early the care home would be serving dinner we got there about 11.30, driving swiftly through eerily empty streets not yet filling with the midday rush.
Rosemarie was very drowsy when we arrived - medication rather than tiredness I felt. She didn't recognise me or our son and kept closing her eyes and dropping her head to her chest. About midday something seemed to click inside her and she became more alert, seeing us for the first time. By the time dinner arrived she was properly awake and interacting.
The chef at the care home had done an amazing job and the Christmas dinner would not have disgraced a restaurant. The turkey was moist and tasty and there was a selection of vegetables and glass of wine if we wanted it. Rosemarie ate well, seated at the table between my son and me, and seemed cheerful and chatted almost continuously. Christmas pudding and brandy sauce followed and she ate that too. After dinner the care staff handed out Christmas presents to the residents and there was overall a really nice atmosphere.
We took her back to her room to open the presents we had brought for her, and then took her downstairs to the Therapy Room with its light show to relax her a bit.
Both our families had a tradition that everything stops for the Queen's Speech at 3 and as a family we carried this on even though we don't take the broadcast seriously so it was back up to her room for that. She paid it no attention at all.
Afterwards we were planning to take her downstairs again for another change of scene - maybe to the Library where it was quiet and we could have a sing song, but something strange happened: Puss In Boots came on the TV and she became interested. She didn't actually watch it - she hardly notices the screen at all now - but the soundtrack seemed to connect with her. The world-weary or cynical tone of the cat's one-liners seemed to amuse her and she began to laugh a lot. She still never looked at the screen and I do not think she actually understood what was being said (much of it would have been much too fast for her to follow) but she kept laughing at exactly the right time.
By the time the film was over it was nearly supper time (5 o'clock) and we were due at my daughter and son-in-law.
Leaving was every bit as difficult and guilt-sodden as I thought it might be. I think if I had been on my own I would have stayed at least until she was in bed, and probably much later.
I don't actually think she registered that it was Christmas, but the atmosphere definitely got to her and I think she enjoyed it. So did I after a fashion.
I drove away and we spent the evening at my daughter and son-in-law's house with his side of the family (my side would visit Boxing Day). A much more traditional Christmas feeling that felt strangely out of joint to me without Rosemarie there.
I stayed the night and went back to see her Boxing Day. She was tired and quiet and then agitated and tearful. She was not particularly pleased to see me and I felt that the brief glimmer of Christmas was over.
Then back to meet my family - or about half of it. My sister and her partner and children could not make it because she was not well, so it was a bit subdued anyway and I dare say I did not add much energy to the proceedings.
Maybe I will get the hang of it and be better next year. I thought I was at last starting to get some sense of equilibrium, but it feels like I spoke too soon.
As they say, humility is endless.
posted by Other Kosh at 9:06 pm
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