Today Johnny came to wash Mom. Johnny weighs about 80 pounds less than mom, and mom is not a large woman. When Johnny comes I should just say Let the Screaming Begin. It's good for her, I somehow think, to be yelling NO!!!! straight into someone's face with your eyes closed. I told the kids, I think when you're in the loving arms of dementia and the brain has clamped your eyes shut with its tiny iron fingers, and someone moves you or even TOUCHES YOUR LEG, you shriek like you're on Space Mountain with your eyes closed. In fact Space Mountain is never going to be the same for me.
Johnny arranges mom on the bed like Julia Child. He has a bunch of waterproof dog pee pads under her, and getting them there required moving her on her side twice while she screamed the paint off the walls. Then he did a thing to wash her hair, he put a ralph's plastic bag lined with blue pee pads under her head. Then he dumped hot water on her head and scrubbed like he was trying to take the lye out of the soap. My mom's head is in a bag, I kept thinking well she better get used to that and then thinking oh man all of us are going to end up with our heads in a bag.
Then he just washes, rinses, up and down the bed like he's playing a concert piano. I keep half holding her hand, telling her it's okay, helping turn her and laughing. Because the yelling is so hard core. I figure she's not that dirty but the yelling is getting her blood moving. And it is nice to have hot water on you. And fresh pajamas.
Afterwards we sit out in the sun and I feed her an ice cream bar because the nurse says there comes a time they won't eat.
So we're eating ice cream as much as we can.
