Mama Goose

Yesterday I visited Wayne. When it was time for a little walk, I stood him up and let him get his balance. He put his arms around me, looked me in the eyes and said very lovingly, “Goose”.

I have read how AD patients can’t “find” the word they want to say. This may have been the case here:)

On Wednesday Wayne fell 2 times in his room – they don’t know if he slips off the bed or falls walking.

Anyway, his left eye had a bruise starting and both cheeks had 5″ red bruising – how much more must he endure?

He demanded/ordered, “get me my beer”.

The care aide cheerfully answered, “Coming right up.”

I smiled to myself thinking they were serving him root beer or some such.

No way, a real beer!

I was new to the care home game and later asked her about it.

“He lost his hearing in Normandy and is basically deaf. The doctor felt a beer is the least we could do to give him some little piece of the past.”

Actually, I learned later that any resident may have any beer or hard liquor which is kept in the drug room.

One Fathers Day we were enjoying a wonderful steak BBQ. I bought Wayne a glass of wine – he no longer liked it!


A couple months ago, Wayne was just really happy and funny. If a nurse looked at him, he’d laugh like they had a secret.

This magic carried on for weeks and I dreaded its ending.

One day after lunch, the nurses were happily chatting in the kitchenette. We sat maybe 6′ away.

The nurse group burst out laughing and Wayne looked at me, “Did I miss something???” He was laughing at their laughter and when they heard him, they laughed louder, as did he. It was truly infectious – something I’ll never forget.

(The happiness here is he didn’t/doesn’t make sentences often anymore so it was indeed special.)