At my mother’s words, the smile instantly drops off my face. “Mom…”
But it’s like she doesn’t hear me. Her eyes stare straight at the camera, which I desperately want to shut off. But I’m frozen in place.
“She locked me in here.” The blinking red light ensures the camera is catching every moment of her little speech. Thank God we’re not live. “She trapped me here. I’m a prisoner.” Her gaze swivels so that her dark eyes are boring into me. Our small live audience seems frozen in shock as they watch this confrontation unfold. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
The blood drains out of my face. “Mom, that’s not true.” “You little ungrateful bitch!” she hisses at me.
And before I know what’s going on, she has lunged at me. I don’t know who is cutting my mother’s fingernails, but they are not doing a good job because I can feel her nails ripping through the skin of my neck. It goes on for about two seconds before I feel her being pulled off of me by Dr. Williams and a nurse.
I collapse against the table, breathing hard. It takes three nurses to restrain my mother, who is screaming at the top of her lungs. “Let me go! Let! Me! Go! I want to get out of here! I shouldn’t be here!”
I watch as they pull her away and bring her back to her room. Peggy and Dr. Williams follow down the hallway, but I stay put. I don’t want to go anywhere near her right now.
My heart won’t stop pounding. I gingerly touch my neck and when I pull my fingers away, there’s blood on my hands. Well, at least she didn’t bite me. But my hands won’t stop shaking. How could she have said those things to me? Whatever medications she’s getting, they’re not doing the trick.
After about ten minutes, Peggy and Dr. Williams come out of the room to talk to me. I’ve just been sitting at the table, gorging myself on the no- bake cheesecake I brought. It’s pretty clear we’re not going to be able to film anything today.
“We have her restrained,” Peggy says tightly. “But she’s still very upset.”
“Of course she’s upset,” Dr. Williams says in that calm, controlled voice. “She’s incredibly confused and understandably wants to go home. It’s very common to feel that way with her level of dementia.” He furrows his brow. “We had to give her some IM Haldol and Ativan.”
I don’t know much about psychiatric meds, but I know those are pretty serious ones.
“I feel so bad about this.” I wring my hands together. “I so wish we could take her home. Maybe she’d be happier there.…”
“Right, but what would you do if she had an episode like this?” Dr. Williams folds his arms across his chest. “She could harm you or your family. This is the best thing for her, April. You know it is.”
“I guess…”
“It is,” he insists. “She’s going to have occasional episodes like this, but in general, she’s happy here. She can socialize with people like herself.”
“Maybe…”
We all look at the doorway to my mother’s room. The screaming seems to have stopped. At least for the moment.
“Can I go in?” I ask. “I want to talk to her.”
Dr. Williams puts his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to. And you should get your neck cleaned up. One of the nurses can get you a Band- Aid.”
“I want to make sure she’s okay,” I say. “Please.”
Finally, he nods. “Go ahead. But she’s probably going to be pretty sedated.”
My legs feel wobbly as I walk down the hallway to my mother’s private room. They’ve shut off the lights in the room in an attempt to get her to quiet down. But even through the darkness, I can see both wrists are strapped to the bedrails.
Her eyes crack open. They’re very bloodshot. “April,” she croaks. “I’m here, Mom,” I say in a loud voice to make sure she can hear me.
“I’m here for you. I’m always here for you.”
“April, please.” As opposed to the angry voice she used on camera, her voice is now a pleading whisper. “Please get me out of here. I don’t want to be in this place anymore.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“I don’t have to live with you.” Her words are coming out slurred. “I… I could get my own place. Somewhere far away. You’d never even have to see me. I wouldn’t bother you. I promise.”
Tears well up in my eyes. I remember how my mother used to walk me to the bus stop every single morning for school. My little hand would get swallowed up by her bigger hand, and I would feel so safe and secure. I just need her to be safe like that. But she doesn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “You have to stay here. It’s the best thing.”
But then her eyes flutter closed. And just like that, she’s asleep.
My hands are still shaking as I leave the room. I wanted to include my mother in my show, but I can see now her dementia is too advanced. I can’t attempt it again.
Dr. Williams sees how upset I am. He’s perceptive about things like that. He puts a hand on my shoulder again. “You can’t let it get to you, April. You’re doing the right thing.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Peggy is watching us and it makes me uncomfortable.
“It sounds like her paranoia is getting worse. I’m going to increase her scheduled antipsychotics.” He takes a set of notes out of the pocket of his white coat and scribbles something down. “Hopefully she’ll do better with that.”
“Dr. Williams,” I say, “isn’t there anything we can do for her memory? Aren’t there any treatments? A clinical trial she can be enrolled in? Anything?”
He shakes his head. “I’m afraid the treatments for dementia right now aren’t great. We’ve already got her on Aricept and Namenda, and I haven’t noticed any improvement. I think right now the best thing we can do for her is to manage her agitation. Before she hurts somebody… or herself.”
“Okay… if you say so…”
He squeezes my shoulder. “Hang in there, April. I promise you this is the best thing for her. Don’t beat yourself up.”
I look in the room again, and my mother is now sound asleep. She looks peaceful. Dr. Williams is right. This is the best thing.
Before I leave Shady Oaks, I say goodbye to all the nurses and make sure they all try some of my cheesecake bites, and I let them know that the remainder of the no-bake cheesecake is in the fridge. The nurses at Shady Oaks are absolutely wonderful, and they take amazing care of my mother. I try to let them know how appreciated they are.
Elliot sometimes tells me I go overboard bringing treats for everyone, but I love doing it, and honestly, who doesn’t like treats? Everyone appreciates it. And it’s what I do.
When I get to the reception area, Delilah gives me a big smile. “So how did the filming go?”
“It got a little dicey,” I admit. “My mom just wasn’t… She was having a bad day.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “Maybe she’s getting too sick to do the shows.”
“Oh, April…” Delilah reaches out to pat my hand. “You know how it is. There are good days and bad days. Dr. Williams will take care of her.”
“I know. You’re right.”
Bobby is sitting quietly next to Delilah, drawing something that looks like a dinosaur fighting a ninja turtle. His tongue is sticking out of his mouth as he concentrates. He looks a lot like Elliot at this moment. Which makes me miss my husband. I feel like I’ve been seeing him even less than usual lately.
And then an idea occurs to me. Something that will cheer me up after this disastrous afternoon.
“Hey, Bobby,” I say. “Do you want to go stop by Dad’s work? It’s on the way home. And you haven’t seen his office in years.”
Bobby’s eyes light up. “Yeah!”
I’m relieved. It was equally likely that he would think my idea was boring and lame.
It’s a great plan. Brianna has been a total bitch to me, but she’ll be nice to Bobby. She won’t keep Bobby from seeing his father.
We hop back in the car and make the ten-minute drive to Elliot’s office. I arrive at the parking lot of the building that houses Elliot’s office just after four o’clock. It’s good timing—he should be done with all his meetings for the day.
Just as I’m parking in the lot, I see a couple standing right outside the building. It takes me a second to recognize my husband and his beautiful blond secretary. I kill the engine and watch them for a moment through my windshield.
He’s standing incredibly close to her. They’re talking softly, and at one point, she reaches out and straightens his tie. It’s such an intimate gesture.
Then Elliot makes a beeline for his car, gets inside, and drives off. “Mom, aren’t we getting out of the car?”
Bobby has gotten out of his booster seat and he’s fumbling with the door lock. “Don’t open the door!” I snap at him.
His eyes grow wide. “Why can’t I open the door?”
Brianna is standing outside the building, just watching Elliot’s car drive off. There’s a distinctly proprietary expression on her pretty features.
“Why aren’t we getting out of the car?” Bobby demands to know.
“I…” I swallow a lump in my throat. “It turns out Dad isn’t here.
We’re going home.”
Bobby cries in protest, but I don’t care. I start up my engine and get the hell out of there.
