She sits at the table in a black t-shirt, shoulder-length hair tied back in a ponytail, bangs cut across her forehead, in that dramatic Uma Thurman style from Pulp Fiction. She takes a deep breath, a smile graces her face, it reflects joy and sadness as her eyes seem to sail to that faraway place where bittersweet memories live. I wait for her to return to the space and time of our visit. Glancing down at the floor, she taps the table with her fingers, and twirls a pen in her other hand. She sighs. Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" is playing from her smart phone on the table. Her eyes shift, she looks at me, smiles and nods. She is ready to begin her story.
So, this is how I met John. I was terrified. I was legit scared. I had spent, actually the whole night before, in the emergency psych ward because there weren't enough beds. They come in, and they strip all your clothes from you. You're not allowed to have any of your clothes for the first twenty-four hours, that's a privilege you earn. I come in, and within the first twenty minutes I get hit on, by Larry.
She smiles, her hand goes up to her forehead, she closes her eyes as she returns to that day through her memories. She laughs nervously and slowly continues: Larry was this older gentleman with dementia. He was sitting on this bench. There was one long hallway that led to all the rooms (her laugh rings out with the recollection, her hands gesturing as she describes the bench and hallway, unconsciously, she wipes at the corners of her mouth with thumb and index finger). The benches were lined up outside the TV room, and Larry came and sat down right beside me. He asked me what I had for dinner, if I ever lived on Wellington? I said no, no I haven't lived on Wellington (her smile is wide and bright, her eyes dancing with humour), and then he just puts his arm around me, and pulls me in close. I jump up (her hands, palm-up as she indicates her swift movement) and I just book it right to the nursing station! I say excuse me, that man over there is hitting on me (she reenacts the scene by leaning forward toward me, and points behind and over her right shoulder with her left hand, in the direction Larry would have been). I'd been there only twenty minutes, and they ask 'Which man?' and they say 'That man over there? Larry has dementia, normally he just talks about food.' I laughed, and admitted that he did actually talk to me about food. He asked me what I had for dinner. The staff were taken aback and said "Huh? He never usually does that. He must really like you."
Giggling at the memory, she continues with her story. There were all these weird people walking around the halls. I remember just being so fucking scared, and being in my room and Vic coming. (The recollection of Vic lights her eyes up, and draws another smile across her lips). Vic showed up the first night, she was so frickin' awesome. I didn't like to stay in my room, because my roommate was an older lady with dementia who was having an episode. I didn't know at the time it was an episode (she looks directly at me, smiling, she rocks gently back and forth in her chair). I found it out the day or two later, when she came down from her episode. She was screaming at people, all night. It was crazy! She would say the same things over and over: You're a bugger! You're a bugger! You're hurting me! You're hurting me! Even if no one was touching her. What are you doing? What are you doing? You're a bugger! You're a bugger! Over and over, oh my god. (She presses her hand to her eye and her infectious giggle makes me laugh too as I recreate my own visuals from her experience). So, I didn't like to stay in my room.
So Vic and I went further down the hallway where there weren't as many patients. My mother had swung by earlier, and I wasn't allowed my clothes because policy says I couldn't have them yet, but my Mother brought my sealskin mukluks. I was allowed those 'cause those were like slippers. So, I'm wearing them and I'm talking to Vic in the hallway, and there were always "the walkers" - these people who would just wander up and down the hall. They were people in different states of mania, actually no, they were people with dementia, and the ones with schizophrenia would pace too, so they were just pacers. Then I can see this one young guy coming down the hall, and he's just looking at us (she traces his path in the air with her index finger), and then he goes back. I'm thinking oh god, what now? He comes back, and he hesitates before turning, he looks back and says "Those are seal!" And right away, I said "yes they are!" I was surprised because usually people down south here, can't identify that they are seal, unless they're from the north. And he defin...no, I shouldn't say definitely, he looked like a white guy. He was a white guy. (We laughed at this explanation). And that's how I first met John. He said "Oh yea, I used to work up in Iqaluit," He worked at the Canada Post, and he also worked at the North Mart. His sister worked up there, at the Legion, and at the daycare I think.
So, it was in that moment that I didn't feel so scared.
So, this is how I met John. I was terrified. I was legit scared. I had spent, actually the whole night before, in the emergency psych ward because there weren't enough beds. They come in, and they strip all your clothes from you. You're not allowed to have any of your clothes for the first twenty-four hours, that's a privilege you earn. I come in, and within the first twenty minutes I get hit on, by Larry.
She smiles, her hand goes up to her forehead, she closes her eyes as she returns to that day through her memories. She laughs nervously and slowly continues: Larry was this older gentleman with dementia. He was sitting on this bench. There was one long hallway that led to all the rooms (her laugh rings out with the recollection, her hands gesturing as she describes the bench and hallway, unconsciously, she wipes at the corners of her mouth with thumb and index finger). The benches were lined up outside the TV room, and Larry came and sat down right beside me. He asked me what I had for dinner, if I ever lived on Wellington? I said no, no I haven't lived on Wellington (her smile is wide and bright, her eyes dancing with humour), and then he just puts his arm around me, and pulls me in close. I jump up (her hands, palm-up as she indicates her swift movement) and I just book it right to the nursing station! I say excuse me, that man over there is hitting on me (she reenacts the scene by leaning forward toward me, and points behind and over her right shoulder with her left hand, in the direction Larry would have been). I'd been there only twenty minutes, and they ask 'Which man?' and they say 'That man over there? Larry has dementia, normally he just talks about food.' I laughed, and admitted that he did actually talk to me about food. He asked me what I had for dinner. The staff were taken aback and said "Huh? He never usually does that. He must really like you."
Giggling at the memory, she continues with her story. There were all these weird people walking around the halls. I remember just being so fucking scared, and being in my room and Vic coming. (The recollection of Vic lights her eyes up, and draws another smile across her lips). Vic showed up the first night, she was so frickin' awesome. I didn't like to stay in my room, because my roommate was an older lady with dementia who was having an episode. I didn't know at the time it was an episode (she looks directly at me, smiling, she rocks gently back and forth in her chair). I found it out the day or two later, when she came down from her episode. She was screaming at people, all night. It was crazy! She would say the same things over and over: You're a bugger! You're a bugger! You're hurting me! You're hurting me! Even if no one was touching her. What are you doing? What are you doing? You're a bugger! You're a bugger! Over and over, oh my god. (She presses her hand to her eye and her infectious giggle makes me laugh too as I recreate my own visuals from her experience). So, I didn't like to stay in my room.
So Vic and I went further down the hallway where there weren't as many patients. My mother had swung by earlier, and I wasn't allowed my clothes because policy says I couldn't have them yet, but my Mother brought my sealskin mukluks. I was allowed those 'cause those were like slippers. So, I'm wearing them and I'm talking to Vic in the hallway, and there were always "the walkers" - these people who would just wander up and down the hall. They were people in different states of mania, actually no, they were people with dementia, and the ones with schizophrenia would pace too, so they were just pacers. Then I can see this one young guy coming down the hall, and he's just looking at us (she traces his path in the air with her index finger), and then he goes back. I'm thinking oh god, what now? He comes back, and he hesitates before turning, he looks back and says "Those are seal!" And right away, I said "yes they are!" I was surprised because usually people down south here, can't identify that they are seal, unless they're from the north. And he defin...no, I shouldn't say definitely, he looked like a white guy. He was a white guy. (We laughed at this explanation). And that's how I first met John. He said "Oh yea, I used to work up in Iqaluit," He worked at the Canada Post, and he also worked at the North Mart. His sister worked up there, at the Legion, and at the daycare I think.
So, it was in that moment that I didn't feel so scared.