One day, as we were arriving at the gates of the facility where Dad stayed, we looked at each other thinking "What the?"
Obviously something was going on.
Residents and care givers were milling in the car park. There was an air of confusion. Then Dad spotted us and came running - yes running - with walking stick waving high in front. When he got to the gate he exclaimed, 'Finally someone here with a few brains. You'd better come sort this out!"
It turns out the facility had had a fire drill.
As the story unfolded, things got worse. Apparently someone, we are hoping not staff though this wasn't confirmed, had run around screaming "Fire!" at the top of their lungs. This had upset some of the residents who had locked themselves in their rooms and refused to budge. Others had headed for the hills and were still running in circles.
Staff were trying to account for everybody.
Dad, as with a number of the old folk, wasn't sure what was going on.
We decided to separate him from the pack (with permission of course) and take him for a drive to calm him down a little. He was only too happy to get away from those 'silly buggers with no brains'.
As we drove Dad to McDonalds, and the whole time we were there, he talked, recounted, opined and cussed about the excitement of the morning, which must have been quite stimulating because he didn't miss a beat even while devouring a Big Mac and fries. I commented to Glenn how alert the whole episode had made him.
The minute we stood to go a switch flicked in his brain.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm coming home with you now? Back to home home. Not that other place."
"Where's mummy - are we going to see her now?"
When the answers he received weren't the ones he was looking for, I can only presume his mind went into survival mode and clouded over till he was not making sense.
As we were arriving at the gates of the facility for the second time that afternoon, all excitement had passed and Dad was just a resigned, sad, confused, shuffling shell.
No comments:
Post a Comment