No matter, the simple fact that my father clipped an article is reason to rejoice, even as Jeannie, her post-birthday glow fading, resumes her dissatisfied carping about other people’s failures—particularly Gene’s. This time, she’s grumbling about his birthday present to her—a gift card to Bed, Bath & Beyond—which I helped him choose.
“There was a mix-up with the cards. I wanted a gift card for Macy’s,” she huffed. Then, lowering her voice to a stage whisper, she added, “But he forgot.”
It took a minute for me to understand. “Do you mean you’d asked him to buy you a Macy’s gift card, and he got you this one instead?”
“Yes,” she answered. “He forgot.”
“Well, blame it on me, since the Bed & Bath card was my idea. Maybe he didn’t remember, but at least he got you a gift. And you did say you might need a new bedspread.”
“Oh, yes, I know.” Moody silence follows.
I had no doubt, though she was keeping her voice low now, that she’d spoken loudly enough to him when she discovered the mistake. “What’s this!?” I can imagine her saying. “I told you I wanted a Macy’s gift card.”
Here again, I must remind myself that routine and expectations are of paramount importance in most elderly minds. The smallest uncertainty or deviation from the plan sparks an episode of anxiety just short of what someone else might experience right before a plane crash.
I used this incident as an opportunity to mention the idea of having a helper take them on a shopping trip; my stepbrother had already told her about the person he knows who could do that, and her first question was “Does she charge by the hour or by the activity?” Apparently, my stepbrother wasn’t sure, so he said he’d check.
The delaying tactics are endless…meanwhile, does anyone have a nail gun I could borrow? Just kidding...I think.
The delaying tactics are endless…meanwhile, does anyone have a nail gun I could borrow? Just kidding...I think.
