Realities

You know the Time Hop feature on Facebook? It’s also called “Memories.” Or maybe it’s just called “Memories,” now, and not also “Time Hop.”

People mainly use it to look back on the first three years of their four-year old grandbaby’s life as if five decades have passed and they have no idea where the time went.

Since I have no babies or grandbabies I don’t look back on these types of things. I used to write about work all the time, and one of the Memories presented to me today was a classic, so I’m pasting the text of it below.

This is a long MC story, but the payoff is GOLD.

We got a new resident today, Mrs. F. Her family let us know that, having been a nurse for 35+ years, she’s very into caring for people, and that she carries a baby doll with her at ALL TIMES. And that’s cool.

This afternoon I went to her room to let her know that we’d be having cupcakes and ice cream, and she said she would come. I went back about ten minutes later and asked her if she’d let me take her to the dining room, and she looked at the baby doll and then at me.

“You can bring him,” I said.

“No, I don’t think I should,” she said.

“He’ll be safe in this room. We’ll shut the door.”

“Are there any cats around?” she wanted to know.

“Nope – no cats and no dogs. He’ll be fine here.”

So she left with me. About ten minutes later, she approached the serving counter and said, “I need to go check on my son.”

I took her down the hall to her room. When we walked in she said, “He hasn’t even moved.”

Er. Heh. No, he hadn’t moved at all. “Why don’t you take him back to where you were with the others? Everybody here loves babies.”

“Do you think it would be all right?”

“Yes, I really do. You’ll make their day if you take a baby back to the party.”

She picked up the doll and came toward me. “You can carry him if you want to.”

And I was honored. The mantra of Memory Care is: Be in their reality. Thus, I held out my arms as if to receive an actual infant.

She handed the doll to me and said, as if I were an asylum patient in her care, “You  know that’s not a real baby? It’s just plastic.”

I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.