Another Dementia Day
J. Price
Bent
down over the toilet, a not so ladylike pose, I’m scrubbing away when the fire
alarm screams across the quiet house. I frantically yell out for my husband,
drop the dirty toilet brush into the water and flee out of the bathroom running
smack dab into a wall of smoke. It is thickest
in the kitchen. I continue calling out for my husband. A pot is burning on the hot
stove. No time to search for a pot holder, I grab the nearest towel, get the
pot off the stove, and turn the stove off. The pan sizzles noisily when I dump
it into the sink and pour water in it. Steam billows from the pot, I continue
to holler for my husband.
I
head for the alarm system across the house.
As I reach the device, a voice from the unit asks if they need to call
the fire department. I assure her it was my husband forgetting he turned the
stove on, put a pot of food on the hot burner and left. I caught it before the kitchen was aflame and
thank her. I continue to shout out for my husband as I search each room.
“Hey,
where are you? CD? Hello? Answer me.” I am enraged. I look back into his
bedroom where I see he has mixed rat poison with the bird seed. It’s all over
the floor. I hid that poison. The constant snooper has found it twice now.
Drat. I wish the rats had found it instead of him. I need to find a supremely
secure hiding place to keep it out of his hands ASAP. Good luck there. Nothing
is safe. “CD?” I continue to holler out as I search. I run to the living room where I nearly trip
on his full cup of coffee, he has put on the floor for the dogs to drink.
Yuck. All the racquet should have caused
the dog to bark. I don’t see the dog. “CD, where are you?”
No
answer.
I
call for our mutt. “Missy?” there is nothing but silence. Maybe CD's in the back
yard.
I
go outside and notice his chair is empty, a cup of old coffee is sitting on the groung next
to the chair. I look in the shed when it hits me, I need to check the other
bathroom. Why didn’t I think of that before? I make a bee line only to find it’s
locked. “Hey, CD, open the door.” No answer. Nothing. I have visions he has
fallen or passed out. I get the screw driver and put it into the hole next to
the handle. The door swings open and the room is empty. He locks that door all
the time when he leaves it. I was hoping this time would be different.
The
doorbell is ringing. There are two policemen standing there, CD and the leashed
Missy is in front of the officers.
“Mam,
we found him wandering behind Fred Meyers. He couldn’t tell us his address,
fortunately the dogs tag has your address and phone number.”
“Thank
you. I didn’t have a clue he was out of
the house.”
I
then look at my husband who is grinning ear to ear, “I had a ride in a police
car.” With that he walks past me heading for the back yard. He is wearing his
Sea Hawk cap with a sweat shirt hoodie pulled over it, mismatched gloves, a
black leather coat, Levi’s, big boots, and finally a bright fluffy full-length pink
bathrobe.
So
there is the typical day of a family dealing with Dementia. There is always the
unexpected, surprise, and chilling reality you still have tomorrow coming.
J. Price ©
2020 Used
with the permission of the author.