Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: RITUAL (01/20/22)
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TITLE: What Bill Wanted | Previous Challenge Entry
By Yvonne Blake
01/26/22 -
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Birthdate: 11/8/1934
Spouse: Grace Duncan (deceased)
Disabilities: sight, hearing, speech, dementia
Allergies: none
I looked up from my clipboard to the man hunched in a wheelchair. The list continued with names of doctors and medications, but they could wait. Crouching in front of him, I looked deep into his watery blue eyes, set deep amid countless creases and folds. “Hello, Bill.” I tried to speak as loudly and gently as I could. “I’m Molly. I’m here to care for you today.”
He lifted his face expectantly, and even smiled a bit, but seeing a stranger before him, he quickly faded back into an empty, far-away stare. I knew that lost expression, somewhere between childhood and dreams. I enjoyed the challenge of searching for the key to let me into their world.
I held his thin, limp hand and wondered what tasks they had done through his long life. The last nurse had already washed and dressed him, but his hands felt cool to me. I glanced around the small parlor, noting the crocheted doilies, the worn family Bible, the ticking grandfather clock, and spinet piano. I didn’t see a sweater, so I went to the bedroom to find one.
The musty odor of the elderly filled the dim room. When I switched on the light, photographs of children and families smiled at me from the walls. A framed picture sat on the dresser of Bill and a sweet-looking woman. I wondered how many years they had been married. I found a brown handknit cardigan in a drawer, switched off the light, and closed the door.
While Bill stared out the wide window at the bird feeder, I decided to find something for lunch. There was a large bib on the kitchen counter, next to some instructions, that mostly suggested serving small amounts of soft and bland foods, plus more information on how he filled his day. There was a phone number at the bottom if I needed help. I found a variety of options in the refrigerator: yogurt, applesauce, cottage cheese, and some left-over vegetable soup. That looked appetizing, and I proceeded to warm it.
After setting the bowl of soup, a spoon, and some milk at the table, I stepped back into the next room.. I noticed that Bill’s head didn’t move as the birds flitted back and forth. I wondered how much he could see. My touch startled him. I crouched before him again, showing him the large bib. “Are you hungry, Bill? I fixed you some vegetable soup.”
He looked at me without expression but reached for the bib with a shaky arm and clutched it in his gnarled fingers.
Pushing him close to the table, I wrapped the terry cloth covering around his neck.The instructions didn’t mention if he still fed himself or not. I didn’t want to treat him like a baby if he could do it himself. I didn’t even know if he was left or right-handed.
Bill stared down at the soup. The warm steam fogged up his glasses, and I giggled. He looked up at me and lifted his right hand to the edge of the table. I helped him grasp the round handle of the spoon, but he dropped it and stretched his hand closer to me.
Leaning close, he whispered, “Grace.” His eyes pleaded for understanding.
Remembering the photo of the sweet face in the bedroom, I answered, “I’m sorry. Grace isn’t here. My name is Molly. I’ll take care of you today.”
I lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips, but he held them closed. I touched his mouth, but he turned away. Not discouraged, I tried applesauce, yogurt, and cottage cheese. I even tried some vanilla ice cream to no avail.
Again he reached for my hand, looked me in the face, and whispered, “Grace.”
“Oh, Bill, I’m sorry. I know you miss Grace, but you need to eat something.”
Reaching for my phone, I called for help. “Cindy? Yes, this is Molly. I’m here at Bill’s house… I’m having trouble getting him to eat anything. He seems to be in a depression and missing his wife. Do you have any suggestions? … Yes, it would have helped if his routine had been detailed out for me … Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Thanks.”
Turning back to Bill, I took his hands in mine and smiled. Bowing my head, I prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, bless this food...”
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