Failing Brains

One of the most exacting of disabilities is a failing brain.  A typical person with senility of the brain shows a remarkable memory for years previously.  Possibly she can remember incidents which happened in her childhood.  She can remember her parents’ names and those of her brothers and sisters.  She can retain information about her work, her family and her circumstances but she may not be able to remember anything about the day before or even the morning of the current day.  Iris was one of these.  She knew that she lived opposite the Co-op and her house was in Balfour Road.  She would be noticed trailing forlornly up and down one of the Camp paths and when questioned about what she wanted would respond that she was finding a bus stop to get to Balfour Road.  She would be escorted back towards her chalet chatting happily about what she intended to cook for her next meal, about her Club in the afternoon and on being alone inside of her little chalet would immediately orientate herself and forgetting all about the forthcoming meal and the Club would settle herself happily on the chair beside her bed and would resume reading a book.  We often wondered whether she used to make do with one book indefinitely since she must have forgotten what she had read shortly before.  It was assumed that the same bit of literature would serve her for the rest of her life.

 

Because she was so unpredictable, she had her bed in a chalet with Helen, one of our helpers.  If she got up in the night, a casual instruction, “Get back into bed”, was all that was required.  She would lift the bedclothes at the side of her bed and within seconds was fast asleep again.  But there were other bothers.  Helen began to miss items of clothing.  Iris would be seen touring the Camp with her clean cardigan on, a smart mushroom coloured one and poor Helen would carol in dismay, “That’s mine”.  So Iris would have it taken from her and it would be replaced with her grey one.  Other times it was not as easy.  Helen saw that Iris was dressed one morning and was seated outside the chalet with someone to whom she could converse.  Then Helen decided to take a quick bath before breakfast.  She returned to her bed to dress only to find that all her clothes had disappeared.  She searched, perhaps she had put them away.  She opened the bed and found nothing.  Iris meanwhile was still outside the door where she had been placed.  She was calm and seemed interested in the folk passing and repassing in front of her.  So Helen at last, deciding that the puzzle would have to wait until after breakfast, found enough to cover herself decently and joined the rest at the dining table.

 

After breakfast she collected a search party and the chalet was ransacked; even drawer and cupboard was opened and explored.  Both beds were stripped and remade.  Helen clothes had miraculously vanished.

 

Iris, meanwhile, was sitting at the entrance to the door, taking little notice of the scavenging going on behind her.  She leant back on her seat and crossed her legs, pulling down her skirt to cover her bony knees but she pulled down the wrong skirt.  Someone glancing at her saw that she had on a thick petticoat.  The secret was out!  Iris had on all Helen’s clothes and her own on top.  It will always remain a puzzle how she managed to undress herself and get everything back on in the few minutes in which Helen was having her quick bath.  She has managed to roll on a tight girdle and then had put on the garb in the right order.  So she had on two vests, two pairs of pants, two slips and two dresses.  She had managed to get herself into the bra by the simple expedient by just putting it over her shoulders and leaving it unfastened.

 

But such mentally confused people have to be tolerated and cared for all the year round.  When one considers what chaos can be caused in about ten unguarded minutes what must it be like to have dozens of ten minutes throughout the year for the rest of the family.  A week of freedom must be Heaven back at home.

 

In spite of all possible precautions to ensure trouble-free nights, disturbances occur from time to time.

 

Virtue’s brain was worn out, but her friend and part-owner of the house in which they both live, had decided that she would like Virtue to accompany her on the holiday.  So, Una and Virtue were settled into a room with two little beds, and foolproof arrangements were discussed to ensure that Una was alerted should her mentally confused companion need supervision during the night.  Una was allocated the bed under the window and Virtue was put into the one beside the wall so that should Virtue stir during the night, it was thought that Una would hear her and would make sure that she returned to her bed without coming to any harm.

But the sea air, the late night, and, perhaps, one or two nightcaps defeated these precautions.  While Una slept on, Virtue awoke and decided to visit the ‘loo’.  This accomplished, her muddled brain could not cope with the task of getting back into bed.  She made her way to the chalet door in her bed socks, turned the handle and let herself out into the bright moonlight.  She started on a walk down the concrete path any coming to a corner, continued along the front of the row of chalets until, suddenly, she realised that she surely ought not to be out in her flannelette nightie.  So she turned and started to make her way back to where she had started.  She began to feel the chill through her inadequate clothing; she noticed the dark shine of the grass, and realised that the nearest path to where she wanted to be was a straight diagonal walk across it.

 

The grass was wet with dew and was cold and within seconds, her pink bed socks were flapping soggily from the ends of her feet, the bottom of her long nightie clung to her ankles and she reached the concrete path with relief.  She began to search for her unlocked door and her warm bed.  Most of the doors were locked and the curtains drawn across, but presently she came upon a window with the curtains drawn back, and in the light from the mood, she glimpsed a bed with a lump in it.  Thankfully she turned the key in the lock and shuffled in.  Cold and weary, she approached the bed and began to try and push her wet feet under the clothes, but she was startled by a piercing shriek.  Something moved quickly from under her searching fingers and a form, like an escaping ghost, straightened itself against the wall at the head of the bed.  The shrieks continued; startled voices disturbed the silence all around.  Virtue, attempting to calm the turmoil which seemed to have erupted all around her, was murmuring to no-one in particular, “I’m only getting into bed”.  A voice from the back room of the chalet began to shout, “shut up, you noisy little perisher!”, and elicited the frantic response, “There is something wet trying to get into my bed”.

 

The lights went on in the back room, and the door opened, and Daniel peered round the corner.  There was his twelve-year-old brother, one hand clutching his pyjama trousers and the other held out in front of him to ward off the terrifying creature which was attempting to annex his bed.  Virtue could not have found a more difficult and unsuitable bed in which to try and creep.  Malcolm’s bed was always just a pile of muddled bedclothes with no point of entry or exit.  She might just as easily have found her way into a haystack.

 

Within minutes, Daniel had taken the frightened Virtue to the helper’s chalet where there was a list of occupants and discovered where Virtue ought to be.  Her wet socks and nightie were changed, and she was tucked into her bed.  Una still slept.