Anna
Eight months ago …
One day Jack arrives to take me somewhere. I don’t care to venture what day it is, since even if I did have the capacity to figure it out, who really cared? We go to a room with chairs around the edges, and I pick up one of the thin books to avoid speaking to Jack. I don’t like talking to Jack. I’d never tell him that, because I know he’s trying. He keeps the conversations simple and slow, the topics basic. But it’s impossible not to feel his scrutinizing, like I’m taking an exam. I concentrate so hard on not saying something stupid that I become stuck in my head and completely forget what he asked in the first place. And I fail.
With the thin book in my lap, my first thought is … all the writing. Even on the cover, bright pink and orange headlines slash the page. There are several pictures, too, of famous people I don’t recognize. How do people make sense of this? Did I used to read these? I put it back on the glass tabletop and instead stare at the television, muted, in the corner. That’s when I feel a kick in my belly. Latina Cook-Lady must have served one of her spicy dishes today, judging by the way my belly is moving.
“Anna Forster.” A woman stands in the doorway, her thick black hair streaming over one shoulder. I recognize her. It’s my family doctor—Dr. Li.
I feel a genuine smile as I stand. I am going to greet this doctor by name. A small, verging-on-pathetic win, but a win for a person with Alzheimer’s. A win for me.
“Yes,” Jack says, standing also. “Nice to see you, Dr. Li.”
It really, really pisses me off that he beats me to it. I punch Jack hard, in the shoulder. I feel his head swing toward me, slack-jawed, but I don’t even look. I just walk past him and Dr. Li and into the exam room.
“So, Anna…” Inside the other room, Dr. Li, at least, addresses me. “How have things been?”
I stare at her for a long time. The last thing I want is for Jack to answer for me, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how to answer her question. How have things been?
“She does better with more specific questions,” Jack says finally. “Yes or no. One- or two-word responses.”
This is true insofar as Jack is concerned. Jack never gives me a chance to say anything more than two words. But with Young Guy, I say a lot—at least, I did. Perhaps Jack is right? Perhaps I am a little out of practice? Either way, I can’t be bothered explaining. Instead I scowl at Jack and he winces, preparing to receive a punch. I laugh out loud, which probably makes me look a bit crazy.
“I see,” Dr. Li says, and scribbles something on a white square. Then she looks back at me. “Are you feeling well today, Anna?”
“I’m very well.” I raise my eyebrows at Jack. That was definitely more than two words.
“Have you been taking all your medication?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a nurse at her facility that administers her medication,” Jack says, “so she’s definitely taking it.”
Dr. Li looks at the white square. “So … Aricept, vitamin E?”
I nod. If that’s what’s written on her square, that’s probably right.
“And Celexa,” Jack adds. “I think that’s it.”
“Any side effects? Dizziness, headache, agitation, sleeplessness?”
“Normal night-restlessness,” Jack jumps in. “Sleeps during the day, awake a lot at night.”
“Is that right, Anna?”
Dr. Li looks at me expectantly, so I nod. She consults the white square again.
“Aricept can cause sleep difficulties in some people,” she says. “I can add a sleeping tablet to your medication to help with that. Would you like that, Anna?”
“Sure.”
“Good,” she says, scribbling on a different square. Then she lifts her head. “So, how’s your mood?”
“It’s been better.”
“Any depression, anxiety, feelings of helplessness?”
“She does seem to be down lately,” Jack says. “Especially compared to a few months ago. To be honest, I’m concerned about the speed of her decline. Do you mind if I speak here, Anna? I want to make sure the doctor understands what is going on.”
I don’t know why he’s asking now since he’s done all the speaking since we arrived. But I nod.
“Anna’s made a … friend in there,” he says to Dr. Li. “A guy, also with dementia. And it turns out they’ve been sexually involved.”
Dr. Li’s eyebrows jump. “I see.”
“I don’t know what to do. I want Anna to be happy, but how can I trust this guy? He has dementia. I want to believe that Anna could stop him from doing anything she doesn’t want to do, but…” Suddenly I realize Jack is crying. “It’s all happening so fast. She’s not the Anna she used to be.”
“I understand,” Dr. Li says. “It must be very difficult for you.”
“A year ago, to the unknowing eye, Anna seemed normal. A normal forgetful person, but you could have a conversation with her. She could have dinner with the family or talk on the phone. But when she came to our house in September, she was only there for four hours before she went berserk and we had to bring her back. I visited her last week, and she was in her room in a sweater, jacket, and boots with the window closed while it was ninety degrees out. It takes her a good five or six seconds to answer a question, and sometimes she doesn’t bother at all.” Jack hangs his head, and his shoulders begin to shake. “Anna was always the one who protected me when we were kids. Now I want to make sure I protect her.”
Dr. Li glances at me, presumably to see how much I am taking in. The answer is all of it. Every word.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I concentrate on my words to make sure this comes out right. “It sounds horrible, what you said. I know I’m … not getting things right anymore, I’m getting confused and doing strange things. But I’m…” I pause to wipe my face. “I’m still here. It’s just—you have to look a little longer and harder to find me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the doctor push her chair back, trying to pretend she’s not there. Jack slides forward in his chair and looks at me. And for the first time since I checked into that place with the old people, maybe for the first time since I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, Jack sees me.