Staring Down The Night Of Day III

It’s Friday, Memory Writing Class day at the Senior Center. Each Friday is a rush to get Nana up, fed, dressed and into the car. We (I) have the responsibility of getting her bottled water wrapped with a paper towel into a zip-lock baggie. The newspaper, although never brought from the tote bag. And not to forget the umbrella if there is a cloud within a 20 mile radius. Oh Lord the keys and the lock, always HAVE to have 2 keys (in case one is lost) to get back in the house. She asks me a couple of times before we get to the Senior Center if we have each of these. She’s thorough for sure. 11:00 is a tight squeeze for us, as Nana is not so worried about her time now. I PANIC! The one thing that absolutely destroys my nerves anymore is the slightest thought that I will be late! She s-l-o-w-l-y moves as if she doesn’t care about my upcoming heart failure.

Once at the Senior Center, Nana, the instructor for the class; delegates the first person to begin their share of 3 words previously chosen for memory recall that Nana and I came up with. In the class of varying attendance, 6-10, the stories bring back wonderful memories of parents, neighbors, children, cars, jobs, military, etc. On the other side of that, there were tears brought by the loss children, hurt of family, difficult jobs, the great depression, no jobs, no food, etc.  Good and bad I always enjoy listening to the stories of their past, some I can relate to and some were way before me as I am around 40 years their junior. I have brought Nana to writing class every Friday for a while now. Other than her writing the words on the board for the next week and reading her stories, Nana doesn’t interact very much, but she is there. We get a kick out of spending time with our friends.
                                                                                                                                                         signed,  Alzheimer’s

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