Happy 1004th Birthday

Yesterday was Demented Old Biddy’s 95^th birthday.  It’s one of the two times a year I’ll visit her with The Other Guy who is no longer able to visit his mother himself. And by no longer able, I mean no longer trying to keep up the pretense that he’d love to visit her except for whatever his latest health crisis is that prevents him from visiting on any given day.

DOB:  How nice to see you!

TOG:  Of course we’d see you; it’s your birthday. You’re 95 years old today!

DOB:  No!

Me:  Yes!

DOB:  No. I forgot. I didn’t even know it’s my birthday.

Me:  No!

We sit, we chat, we discuss the weather, the food, the new roommate.

DOB:  The woman in the next bed is…. (dramatic pause or silent mini-stroke, you decide)

DOB:  …. (moves lips but no sound comes out) black….(!)

TOG:  She likes you. She told me so.

WISIMH:  You can tell her anything. It’s like politicians who can make solemn pronouncements about “facts” that bear as close a relationship to the truth as DOB’s perceptions bear to reality. I once asked her how she enjoyed her visit to Disneyland yesterday and she assured me a great time was had by all.

Me:  At least she doesn’t throw things at you like your last roommate.

DOB:  She’s (again moving lips without the sound) blaaaack! 

The shrug and facial expression that accompany this pronouncement convey either the full horror of having a --- lady for a roommate, the impending sudden end to a prolonged bout of constipation, the fact that Obamacare website can now enroll at least 80% of people who try,  or the realization that you have forgotten your 95^th birthday. Hard to say.

TOG:  (Giving her a third piece of sugar-free chocolate which is big enough for about three mouthfuls but which, needless to say…) Do you know how old you are today?

DOB:  (Speaking through the sloppy gob of chocolate) I am 1004 years old.

TOG and Me:  No!

DOB:  No. Because the paper with my birthday says 1924 and then. And then, you add (holding up fingers and counting off) one year, then you put in another year, and now you just put in another year, so that adds up to 1004 years old. And that.

Me:  So today, you’re 1004 years old and that?

DOB:  No. Then you put in one year, and the paper says 1000 and then another year…

Me:  No. 

WISIMH: The paper, aka your birth certificate, says 1918. That's the year you were born, not your age minus 14 inexplicable years. Christ only knows where you got 1924. The other four years added to the 1000 I actually get: it's your mental age. She tends to round up.

DOB:  Yeah, no?

WISIMH:  No only means no here when it’s spoken in a very loud voice by the fire marshal, the crane operator, or the man in mismatched pajamas pushing his walker with one hand and swinging a claw hammer with the other hand. Otherwise “no” is an all-purpose word that conveys many things depending on context. Such as the bitterness of a life of regret for opportunities missed; remorse for generations of poor fashion decisions; or perhaps un-assuaged guilt for not properly configuring your privacy settings before posting pictures illustrating your reckless disregard for the feelings of others. “No!” may also mean: how did that man in his pajamas get a claw hammer?

Me:  Can I meet your black roommate?

DOB:  Blackie isn’t nice.

TOG:  She told me she likes you.

DOB:  This is my brother Ken and his sister… (whose name clearly escapes her)

Me:  (Waving)  Hi. Doris.  I’m her daughter-in-law and that’s her disabled son Eugene.

TOG:  No. Mother is 95 years old today.

Me:  No. She’s 1004. (Pinning up family photos by her bed which TOG has carefully labeled with names and relationships so she may be able recognize her own daughter.)

WISIMH:  The roommate is actually a black woman - which is kind of amazing since the previous roommate, who was clearly Asian, was usually (although not always) identified as Mexican.  Which reminds me of the time when DOB was in the hospital and the Asian nurse had somehow offended her - which is slightly more difficult than using air to breath. Mother kept calling her a “Jew” but we think she meant to use the slur Jap and just couldn’t remember it. Did I mention this was right in front of the nurse who politely pretended she didn’t hear?  Someone should do a study on racial slurs and dementia. Apparently one of the last to go is Jew. And apparently before that demented old white woman can only say someone is black if they don’t speak the B word out loud. No.