Mrs. Page was also on a Dementia unit. She thought because it look like a hospital that she was there to deliver one of her children. I mean she had seven children. She is what I called pleasantly confused patient. For the most part smiled most of the time didn’t give anyone a hard time. Didn’t say much, and just knew in a couple of days she would be going home.
She had been in the unit going on three years now. She carried around this life size baby doll and she cared for it intensely as if it was her own child. Now Mrs. Page ran a daycare for years and she loved children. She was a gray haired ‘plump’ older white women, who stayed in her wheelchair most of the time. Her doll was a dark skinned baby, but she didn’t care . That was her baby and noone better mistreat it.
Mrs. Page didn’t seem too effected when Covid hit our building. She still set up in bed and smiled and did her normal routine. One afternoon we all sat around the dinning room table about to have dinner. Mrs. Page just sat there with a smile on her face. But when she looked down at her baby doll she got a strange look on her face.
She took that doll by the arm swang her arm in a circle and threw that doll across the room. She said plain as day, “That fucking baby wasn’t mine, when did I ever have a black baby?”. And she backed up from the table and wheeled herself to her room. It was like she came back for a moment. She was gone the next week, Covid took her fast. Covid did strange things to our dementia patients. Some it was like they were their old self, as if they never had dementia or Alzheimer’s. I really wish they would have studied the unit more closely. Maybe they would of found useful information about dementia. Just Maybe.
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