So, Mr. "H" sets off his tab alarm. An alarm that activates a very high pitch, loud scream that signals when someone who is not supposed to stand up...is trying to. I run down the hallway, following the alarm signal until I realize it is coming from Mr. "H". I find him lying in bed completely unaware that an alarm is screaming in his ear. He looks up at me with an expression that says "I know I am suppose to know you...but I don't know you...and, why in the hell are you here?" Apparently he simply rolled over which activated the alarm. I see that he has managed to take both of his arms out of his hospital gown which left him in a cocoon of fabric. This, he was also unaware of but clearly frustrated that something was very wrong. I push his arms back through the gown and reassure him that he is alright and doing "a very good job". Mr. "H" immediately starts pulling his arms back out of the gown so I tell him that if he keeps taking off his gown, people will see his unmentionables. That, he understands. Feeling confident he'll go back to sleep, I tell him to sleep well. He stops me and with labored effort, he says " You know.....you are..so...pretty....that...that....right, right then...I...just then...I...really wanted....to...to grab your head and kiss you" Of course I laugh and shake my finger at him and say "Now Mr. "H", you know I am married and so are you". He laughs too, and says " Well, that's why we don't do it!".
The agony of dementia is layered with comedy. They are never separate but never absorbed into one. Kind of like a good vinaigrette.
