Chapter 15 Iris
Iris
Iris tensed as the door to the kitchen opened and Dr. Jennings entered.
He strode across the squeaky-clean linoleum floor and pulled out a chair across the table from Iris.
From the way he drummed his elegant fingers, with their well-scrubbed and trimmed fingernails, on the top of the Formica table, she knew she would not like what he had to say. Not that she had expected good news.
“It’s never a pleasure to deliver difficult news, but I expect it will not come as a surprise to you if I say that your mother is suffering from a steep mental decline,” he said.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘steep’?” she asked, hanging onto hope.
The doctor stilled his fingers and directed his gaze at her. “There’s no easy way to say this. Considering your mother’s level of befuddlement about even ordinary things, like her own mother’s name or which year it is, I would say that she is experiencing significant dementia.”
“But that’s just it, Doctor. She has spells where she has trouble with knowing what day it is or even what year.
Occasionally, she seems to forget that I’m a grown woman, although truth be told she’s always had some trouble with that concept,” Iris said allowing herself a small smile.
“But other days she’s as she always has been.
She’s opinionated, up-to-date on all the goings-on around her, and sharp as a tack.
How can you say that she is headed for a steep decline? ”
The doctor leaned back against the vinyl-wrapped chair, a creaking sound filling the quiet room.
“That’s one of the cruelest things about this sort of trouble.
People who are suffering from senility can have good days and bad.
Sometimes physical strain like a cold or hay fever can tax their mental capabilities.
Other times it’s an emotional upset or change in their routine that leads to bouts of disorientation.
But then they’ll have another day or two where they seem like their old selves, and it gives their loved ones false hope. ”
“Are you saying that if she remains physically healthy and does not experience unsettling conditions, she’ll be fine?” Iris said.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.
It’s just that those things can cause the underlying condition to be more obvious.
Even on those days when she seems the most lucid, if you pay careful attention, you may notice that she’s not actually telling you anything that is specific.
One of the things about people suffering from this kind of difficulty is that they are often unwilling for anyone else to become aware of it.
They can become quite secretive and crafty and use all of their resources to maintain a facade of normalcy no matter the toll it takes on them. ”
That did sound like Orla, Iris had to admit to herself.
Her mother had never been one to display weakness.
She had prided herself on her ability to withstand whatever sorts of bugs were laying waste to all the people around her.
She had a sister who had died during the flu epidemic at the time of the First World War and had often proudly announced she had never even been in bed for a day during that crisis.
She had even bragged about how quickly she had returned to her duties on the farm after Iris was born.
No, she certainly would not have wanted to be seen as unwell.
She also had very little patience with anyone’s emotional or mental fragility.
While Orla was not an unkind person, she had strong opinions about what she thought of as moral weakness.
She was quick to point out when she thought that someone was simply unwilling to pull their weight in life as opposed to those rare people who she thought warranted an actual bit of compassion for real illness.
She had even appeared to feel a bit disappointed in her husband for having succumbed to heart disease.
Iris thought back to the sorts of conversations she so often had with her mother.
Was it possible that she had assumed her mother was following along when they spoke, but in truth, she was simply giving the sorts of responses Iris took for granted throughout the course of her life?
Was she really far worse off cognitively than Iris had realized?
The thought that she had been such an unobservant daughter dropped a queasy ball into the pit of her stomach.
“Can she be helped? Is there some sort of medication or a type of rest cure that might return her to her normal self?” Iris asked.
“I’m afraid there is nothing to be done as far as any improvement or even a halting of the disease.
Such things take the time they take, but there is no stopping them.
I would advise you to reconcile yourself to the fact that while she will have some good days sprinkled in amongst the bad ones, she is not going to recover.
Even if her body maintains its current vigor, her mind will continue to deteriorate. ”
All Iris could hear was the hammering of her own heart and the ticking of the clock on the wall.
While she and Orla had not always seen eye to eye, nor had they had the closest of relationships, the prospect of losing any part of her mother was grim.
Orla was spryer than most women her age.
She kept her home ruthlessly clean and did her own errands, including banking.
There was nothing frail about her body, and Iris had not been remotely prepared for the fact that she might slip away mentally before she did so physically.
A tear slithered out from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.
She tried to tell herself not to allow such a weak display in front of the doctor, but to no avail.
The doctor shifted in his seat and pulled a freshly laundered cotton handkerchief from his back pocket, which he slid across the gleaming surface of the table. She plucked it up and dabbed her eyes.
“So, what is to be done?” she asked.
“It has come to my attention that Orla’s been out wandering in town without a real sense of where she’s going or why she’s there. These episodes have become more frequent, and it sounds as though they are quite unsafe. In my opinion, your mother requires more rigorous supervision.”
“I don’t know how to manage, not with my job. Are you sure that it’s come to that?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested if I didn’t think it was going to be necessary sooner rather than later.
Perhaps you’d be able to get away with her being on her own for a few hours at a time, but that won’t last. You are either going to need to hire help or you’re going to have to place her in a live-in facility,” he said.
“I know that’s hard news, but it’s for her own good. ”
Iris had never considered placing her mother in any kind of an institution.
It simply wasn’t what the family did. Elderly men who had lost their wives moved in with their children or younger siblings.
Grandmothers or aunts who had become too frail to cook their own meals or wash their own clothes were ensconced in spare bedrooms with some family member or another. But no one had struggled mentally.
Perhaps it was because of family loyalty, but it also might have been because of the expense.
No one in Iris’s family had ever had enough extra to pay for hired help even in the home, let alone for a facility that provided round-the-clock care.
A visit from the doctor was considered an extravagance.
With the increase in salary offered by Miss Arden, she might be able to afford care for her mother, but it would still be difficult to manage.
“How soon do you think I’ll need to come to a decision?” she asked.
“If you have the rest of the summer before something with Orla comes up that you just can’t ignore, I’ll be surprised.
Once families get to the point that they call me, it usually means that the situation is coming to a head.
You won’t be the first daughter not to want to see something like this, and you won’t be the last. But I promise you, if you bury your head in the sand about it, you will be sorry. ”
The doctor scraped back his chair and stood. As she walked him to the door, she felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes once more. He paused at the screen door to the front porch and turned to face her once more. He patted her on the shoulder kindly.
As she watched him stride across the dooryard and slide into his dark-colored station wagon, the tears began streaming down her cheeks. She dabbed them away with the doctor’s handkerchief. There was no time for a fit of crying. There was simply too much to do.