I'm making my usual run this afternoon to pick up Tess from school. It's another blasted hot day so I turn the air up in the car. I make it barely a mile down the road when I encounter a tow truck stopped in the middle of the lane with another pick up truck stopped behind it . This is a dangerous section of road, steep and winding with no guardrails where the road drops off on one side into a deep, wooded ravine. There is nothing for me to do but stop. After a few minutes of waiting, the gentleman in the pickup gets out of his truck and speaks with the tow truck driver, who is standing in the road. They look perplexed. Then I see an older woman walking around as though searching for something in the road. Something about her looks clearly out of place. I put on my flashers and get out to see what's holding us up. Both men turn to me and the tow truck driver says the woman is lost and he can't help her. The older gentleman from the pick up looks equally stumped and turns to me as though looking for an answer. I'm confused because although this is odd, I figure it's a pretty simple task; just ask her some questions. I approach the woman and gently place my hand on her shoulder. "What's your name?" I say. Immediately I can tell something is very wrong because she answers me in gibberish. My heart sinks as I continue talking to her, recognizing the signs of Alzheimer's. Clearly, this woman is helpless.
A quick panic tries to rise up in me as realize this is way beyond any of we three drivers. I can also tell that the men are looking for me to come up with an answer, like I should know something they don't know. I'm trying to think quickly. "OK", I say, "I'll drive her down to the nursing home at the end of the road. Maybe she wandered away from there. If not, we can call the police from there." Nodding their heads in agreement, the men are pleased with my solution. The tow truck driver is in a hurry to get back on the road, and he leaves. As gently as possible, I explain to the woman that I'm going to help her find her home and I begin to guide her to my car. I notice she's wearing long, dark, polyester pants and a polyester, long-sleeved turtleneck; very warm clothing for this sweltering heat. She has leaf debris on her back and in her hair as though she's been in the woods. I get a strong scent of body odor, but that's not surprising given the heat and the way she's dressed. Her nails and hands are clean and well kept and a nice gold wedding ring is on her finger. Obviously she is cared for and loved by someone. As I begin to guide her toward my car, she gestures towards the woods and wants me to look. She speaks some real words mixed in with the gibberish. She makes me to understand that someone else is in the woods but they're afraid to come out. She begins searching the roadside again. I peer down the steep ravine and I see no sign of anyone. We can't go down there, I tell her. We'll have to get someone else to come back later to help us.
The pickup driver hasn't left. He's a neighbor I recognize and he follows us to my car. I gently guide the lady to be seated and I buckle her seat belt. The neighbor asks me if I'm sure I'm OK. I assure him that I'm fine, no problem. In my mind I'm saying a quick prayer that she doesn't panic or try to exit the car after it's moving. As we begin to pull away, I phone the school and ask them to please have Tess take the bus home. What began as a routine errand is no longer routine.
Driving down the road, the woman is quiet. Once or twice she seems to see something familiar out the window and says "I think..." or "No, not yet." I ask her a few questions again. What's your name? Were you in the woods long? Do you live nearby? Mostly she appears not to hear me. Suddenly, she blurts out, "The flowers are very pretty. All the pretty colors. Peonies..." She also tries to tell me something about, "Big, yellow...mowing...", then she is gone again. As we pull into the nursing home parking lot, I see my neighbor in the pickup is there. He asks again if I'm OK. "Yes, yes no problem", I say again. More to reassure myself than anyone else. I begin walking to the entrance and notice the woman hasn't gotten out of the car. Silly me. I assume she will automatically follow. I return to the car and open her door, guiding her out. I explain that we are stopping here for help, but I don't know if she hears or comprehends me.
Entering the cool lobby, I feel like we have found an oasis. I briefly explain myself to the receptionist, asking if the nursing home has had anyone wander away. Although the response is an immediate, "No!", I still feel relieved because there are professionals here who are ready to help me. While the receptionist phones the police, four nurses and a supervisor step in. They bombard the woman with questions and soon see this is of little help. I feel bad for the poor, lost woman. She clearly looks confused and frustrated at times. I ask her if she is thirsty and she nods. A cup of water refreshes her and she says, "Thank you." I guide her to a seat where we can wait for the police. A nurse decides to check her blood sugar, which turns out fine. She is able to tell us her and her husband's first name and we work to get a last name. After a while, the police phone back and say they have found her husband. He called them to report his wife missing. We now have her last name and her address!
When her husband arrives, we guide him to her and recognition lights up her face. She says laughingly, "Where were you?" It turns out she lives on this very road. We drove right past her house to get to the nursing home! She had managed to wander a mile from her home, uphill into the thickest part of our wooded road. I don't know if she stayed on the road for that mile or exactly what happened. When her husband comes in, he explains everything very matter-of-factly. She was mowing in the woods, ran out of gas and got lost. By now, a police officer arrives and asks to speak to the husband. I ask him if I'm needed here and he tells me I can go. I thank the nursing home staff for their help and drive back up the road toward home.
My physical role is done for this woman today. But on an emotional level, my thoughts go round and round. I reflect on how much went unspoken during this interchange between everyone involved. The tow truck driver whose few words told me he wanted nothing to do with this; the pick up driver whose face showed concern and bafflement; the nursing home staff who went into auto pilot, hovering over the woman, checking blood sugar, etc.; the husband who wanted to make us believe that everything was perfectly normal with his casual manner and light speech, (I think he was trying to convince himself that everything was normal too.); the husband's hesitancy to have the police involved; and finally to myself, who was scared stiff for having the responsibility to help a lost soul find her way home.
I recognize the symptoms of Alzheimer's because we've had two relatives who have suffered this disease. The jumbled speech, the consciousness that bubbles to the surface then disappears just as quickly, the increase in confusion when their environment changes, the signs of frustration with themselves for not being able to communicate a thought. Many times their physical health is not compromised at all and they are otherwise very healthy. To be perfectly honest, this disease frightens me. Maybe because it is a disease of the mind and it's sneaky. It takes intelligent, bright, successful people and robs them of their logical thought... and so much more.
Now, when I drive down my road, past #2204, I will be watching out for the lady with Alzheimer's. She has one more advocate to protect her. I admire her husband for his loyalty and protectiveness over his wife. I think about my marriage and the illnesses my husband and I might suffer one day. It's the part when "in sickness and in health" comes into play. But I sincerely pray it won't be Alzheimer's, or throat cancer or colon cancer, or a stroke, or...
