Monday, May 25, 2015

The Corrugated Sheet

Anna moved into a new flat on 9th May 2015.

Since the move, Anna has been unhappy and very disoriented.  He has asked that he be moved to a hotel. He has stated many times that he feels abandoned.  His walking has reduced and sleep increased.

My visits with him have become longer, hoping that I will be able to cheer him up.  We discuss politics and the weather.  I plan meals with more variety. Add more sweet things to his diet, specially cold melon and chocolates. But all this hasn't helped much.

One of the evenings after his move, I persuaded him to walk in a small brown patch behind his flat (I am still to find a gardener that can covert it to a green area).  After a short walk, we both sat on a bench and chatted about the weather.

Suddenly he says "Pass your palm over my hand"

I am not sure what he is thinking, but like any obedient daughter, I do as he asks.

I  move my palm over his overturned hand, from the tip of his fingers to his forearm, not once but twice.

Anna gives me a sideways glance and asks, "What does it feel like?"

I am confused. It feels like a hand of an old person - thin skin, a little rough with wrinkles and dry skin, smaller than my hand.

So I say, "Like your hand".

Duh!  My intelligence is really shining bright!

He looks at me and says, "No.  It feels like a corrugated sheet"

I look at his hand, veins and bones standing out, and realize that it is the perfect term to use.

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