The Visit 4/2/12

 It's only been an hour since I called him but he's forgotten and all ready eating his lunch. The nursing home rushes to accommodate my change in plans. Bill looks at me, slow to react as if he were drifting out to sea all alone on a small vessel. His eyes are distant, cold, not recognizing me.

We eat lunch together and then move on to his room- room 405.  We start the video for memories. We talk about the weekend and the 4-wheeler ride I took him on over the weekend. It was quite the scene. My family sat back and laughed  because Bill was hell fire certain he was going to ride that bike by himself. Jack and I looked in horror and disbelief. We had gotten him on the bike. Would we ever get him off? Jack tried to squeeze in the front, but Bill held his grip on the handle bars firmly, chanting, "oh, no, Bill wants to ride. Bill wants to ride." I finally squeezed up front, and scootched his little ass back to the edge of the seat. I held his hands, and said, "You better hold on." I took off on the four wheeler, killing the engine twice. Bill did his best to say his hail Mary's and help me Jesus's. I revved that puppy up and off we went. I could hear Bill scream, "help me, help me..." then break out in thunderous laughter and then he whispers, thank you. This is nice."

I stay as long as I can, but the time to work is closing in. We talk about our next outing, as I try to offer him hope that I will return. I question am I hurting him or helping him? It feels harsh and heavy to leave, to go forward with freedom and a whole mind and a whole body. I know at home his determination to be free, to drive a vehicle, to come and go as he pleases is not safe for him or for us, as frustration in Bill can be violent and difficult to control. It is difficult to ignore the pain he is going through.