Talking About Time
She did it again this morning. When I walked by her room at
7:26 this morning, I heard “Seven twenty-six, seven twenty-six, seven twenty
six, seven twenty-six, seven twenty six, seven twenty-seven…” like I might hear
mornings, evenings, any time that Millie is in bed but not asleep. When she says
the time, she is always lying on her right side, with the extra-large-digit
clock only about ten inches from her face and, apparently, reading the numbers.
It was about Day 60 that I first noticed Millie audibly counting
out the time. In the year-plus since then, hubby and I invented several theories about
why she counts like this as she is watching the clock: It’s to aid sleep, like
counting sheep; she is reminding herself what the time is because she is anxious
about time; it’s a kind of prayer or mantra. I wouldn’t ask Millie about it
because I don’t want to make her self-conscious, then she would feel that she
shouldn’t do it, even though she is compelled to. I don’t want to make her
anxious, and I don’t want to make her stop. I just want to understand.
This morning, as I paused to listen, I noticed that the
counting made her out of breath. With congestive heart failure, she is often
out of breath after minimal movement, such as sitting up in bed. Why then does
she put herself through this? Why does she not count in her mind only, to save
her breath?
Sometimes she skips the hour and says “thirty-two,
thirty-two, thirty-two” and sometimes, inexplicably, like she did one evening
last week, she mutters “eight sixty-six, eight sixty-six, eight sixty-six.” Sixty-six? Maybe it’s not the time she
is keeping track of. Perhaps she just needs to say something to know she is
alive. I think that this counting, clock-watching habit is just another way that she builds her world. I suppose it’s not my job to understand what she is doing, only to keep her safe and cared for. And to accept every odd and challenging thing that comes my way. That’s why they call it caregiving.
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