It wasn't
always easy to navigate the challenges of life. All institutions had
their flaws, nursing homes among them. Divine guidance was helpful.
He was just itchy. Daytime wasn't bad, but night came and it
started. Slowly at first, a little itch here, a pin prick there. By
the time he crawled into bed and said “Night night” to his cats
the itch would begin to consume him till he was a bundle of nerves,
scratching here and there, waiting for the next electric prickle to
strike. No use. He'd get up and make a pot of coffee.
He used
Nix, thought it was scabies. The conscientious care givers at the
home said no, they'd done tests, she didn't have scabies, it was
psoriasis. She had a scaly white scalp and fingers thick and cracked
with thick dry white skin. Red blotches on her back and legs. It
had started a month before Christmas, after her room mate had
scabies. They washed the clothes, washed the walls, stuck the
stuffed animals in garbage bags and hid them, and gave them the
treatment. It never went away. She didn't know, her dementia mind
couldn't fathom it. She pulled her hair out, said it didn't itch
though. She didn't know.
A few
days after he used the Nix the itch was gone. He slept the sleep of
abandonment, dreams of cupcakes floating over fairy landscapes, awoke
refreshed the whole world to explore. Then came the time for the
daily visit. His feet would not go through that door. Anxiety
overtook him, the remembrance of that horrid itch filled his being
numbing his mind black. He couldn't think. He sat on the bench
outside.
Oh what
to do? What would a sane person do? He phoned the nursing
supervisor. Of course he got the answering machine. Left his
message, “I got itchy, had pimple bumps, used Nix, it went away.
Could my dear wife possibly have scabies? Please phone me.”
His phone
rang. The nursing supervisor said no it wasn't scabies, the doctor
had said so. He said maybe I should go see a dermatologist. I
hummed and hawed and said my wife was not improving. He said she was
refusing her medicated cream. I asked if maybe she could see a
dermatologist for a different solution. Was a brilliant manoeuvre on
my part, if I can so say. He said yes if I would accompany her, as
she was prone to refusing these escapades into the unknown. In my
glory I said “Yes, for sure” and thanked him profusely.
With this
unforeseen outcome at my disposal I got up from that bench and
marched happily through that door. Found her in the rec hall and
gave her a big kiss. She grinned from ear to ear. I know I'll pay
the price, but it isn't scabies. Maybe.
