Mrs. Workman

I hope that I tell this story well enough that you are able to follow.

This summer, we kept getting phone calls from a woman named Patricia Workman. She sounded about 90 years old. She always wanted to talk to Carol. (Over time, I figured out that Carol was her daughter). We would go over and over and over my phone number, who she was trying to reach and trying to figure out where Carol was. After a few of these phone calls, I finally got with the program and found Carol in the phone book. She is married to Michael Carpenter (hence, why WE kept getting the calls. She would misplace her daughters phone number, call information and then call us). So one night, I called Carol.

The poor lady just cried with thankfulness and stress. Her mother has dementia/early alzheimers gets very confused. I assured her that I didn't mind talking to her mother and that from now on, I would just tell her the phone number to call. We had a lovely conversation about my grandmother's dementia and the roller coaster ride that life throws at our elders.

Fast forward to tonight.

Pat calls. She thinks she just got dropped off at a hotel, but isn't sure where. I know from the caller ID that she is at home. I give her Carol's number.

Pat calls back. She can't get an answer. I tell her to hang up and I'll try. I call Carol and the number has been disconnected. I call Pat back and try to "gather clues" from her about where she is. I KNOW she is not in Walla Walla, although she insists she is. I ask her to look around where she is and she sees a tablet with a hotel name on it. (This is probably why she thought she was in a hotel). She thinks that Carol moved recently but that Carol just dropped her off. She happens to mention that she has lived at the Alpine House in Joseph, OR before. *lightbulb*. I tell her to wait and I will call her back. She is very stressed about not talking to anyone but I assure her that I WILL call her back.

I call information for the Alpine House in Joseph. Call the number and talk to a someone who works there. He knows Mrs. Workman and I explain the situation from him. (He doesn't seem amused by it, but I continue). I really try to get across to him how important it is to me that he go to her room and help her get in touch with her daughter.

I call back Pat and she is SO happy to hear from me. Really! She is still very confused and I decide to quit trying to explain any of this to her. I talk to her about where she lives right now and she begins to tell me about the 6 room house that she and her husband built. We talk about what he did for a living (build bridges) and how she raised the family and kept the books. She told me about the cars they used to have on the land. I asked her about the location and their children. It was incredible. Her memory about the past was sharp as could be. She enjoyed talking and telling me all about the past. Before I knew it, 15 minutes had gone by.

When I got off the phone, I just cried. I guess because it is SO sad what a cruel trick life can play on us. Pat's memory from minute to minute is terrible, but talk to her about the past and she saw with clarity. My grandmother was the same way. And all they want is someone to talk with them. The loneliness they feel is immense. And my guess is that the confusion can be a dark place. Going back to that time in their life makes them feel alive, cared for and appreciated.

Why did I write this down? Because I don't think we have enough patience anymore. And I hope that this reminds us all to slow down. Take the time to listen. And care about one another. We are a self-centered nation. Someone always has it worse than we do. Pain and suffering are relative to the situation.

The boys listened to our conversation and couldn't figure why I would talk to someone I didn't even know. I explained to them how lonely Pat was and that in a matter of moments, I helped her to forget that she was confused and alone. Hopefully she'll dream tonight about building bridges with her husband........