Welcome to the Nourishing Home (Part 1)

Ada nervously patted her freshly-done white curls as Mae-Lyn wheeled her to the front doors. She couldn’t remember exactly where this was supposed to be, although snippets of the past few months of difficult conversations with her daughter flitted through her shriveled brain.

That senile disorder had caught up with her. Ada had tried to hide it for a while, but she knew she had failed by noting the concerned looks of her neighbors, friends, and of course Mae-Lyn. Her daughter was more than concerned, she had gotten hysterical. It might have been that time that Ada had been frying fish sticks on the stove, and then decided to take a moonlit walk, and then got lost...and the fire department had been called to her house to extinguish the kitchen fire.

Ada had agreed to a temporary move from her home of 30 years, where she had built a life with Joseph and where they had raised their two girls. She felt anxious that she couldn’t remember the name of her other daughter just now, or where she was. Mae-Lyn had always been there, but the other one…the other one…?

The doors opened, and a tall silver-haired gentleman greeted them warmly with, “Welcome to the Nourishing Home! You must be Ada. I’m so happy you’ve come to join us.” He grasped her hand firmly, and Ada feel herself blush a little. This man was not weak and withering like she, instead, he was radiating health, vitality, and enthusiastic energy. “I’m Frederick, but they call me Flash around here.” He winked at Ada, causing her to blush again. “And you must be Mae-Lyn.” He shook her daughter’s hand, and continued with, “Please, allow me to give you a tour of our home! Then I’ll show you to Ada’s lovely room.”

Their first stop, naturally, was the kitchen. Ada remembered dimly that food was the core of this “nourishing” business that she and Mae-Lyn had discussed. Ada was positive that she had been cooking for herself quite adequately all her adult life, but Mae-Lyn had disagreed. To disparage your own mother’s cooking—Ada wouldn’t have dared with her own mother! But Mae-Lyn was a scientist, and Ada generally found herself losing battles with her in an endless stream of “facts”.

The kitchen was bustling with other white- and gray-haired folks. None were in wheelchairs, and she didn’t see any canes, either. They were all moving quite quickly for old folks, she thought, and whistling and singing and joking amongst themselves like childhood schoolmates. It was just before lunchtime. Ada’s sense of smell wasn’t what it had been—a side effect of the dementia, she was told. But she could still smell that fresh garlic! The countertops were piled with greens and brightly colored vegetables. On the stove, a few pots were simmering. One of the cooks was whizzing something in one of those food chopper thingammies. Others were stirring, shaking, chopping and tossing. They all smiled and nodded and called out a “Hello!” and “Welcome dear friend!” when Flash introduced them.

Her other daughter had love to cook. Gourmet, you might say. Ada could see her at the age of 8 or 9, standing on a footstool in the kitchen, mixing ingredients for her signature quiche. How many other youngsters had mastered a complex dish like quiche? Her name…it started with a “J”, Ada was sure. But why couldn’t she remember where her little girl was?

She came back to the present when Mae-Lyn turned her wheelchair down a hallway. “Now,” Flash said, with a wide smile, I’m going to show you our pride and joy.” Reaching the end of the hall, he opened the door to a courtyard, which was really a vegetable and flower garden. But what a garden! Ada had never seen a garden with paved sidewalks and beds raised up to wheelchair height. Here, there were some folks using wheelchairs, walkers and canes. Everyone seemed to be working in pairs—the more agile ones assisting those less so.

Flash was speaking again. “In the kitchen, well that’s where our Level 3 folks are assigned. Out here, these are generally Level 1s and 2s, with a few Level 3s for guidance, of course. Ada, you’d start at Level 1, which is the entry level. We all work together to help you get to Level 3. That’s where you’ll gain back a lot of your strength and mental clarity, and you’ll be much more independent.” Ada lifted her hands, saying, “These pitiful things don’t work very well anymore, and they pain me so. I don’t think I can do what they’re doing.” Flash smiled and held out his hands, which looked strong and capable. “I used to have rheumatoid arthritis also, but after being here just six months, all of the swelling and pain was gone. Lots of other folks like that around here, too.” Ada couldn’t really make sense of what he was saying. She’d had the arthritis since her 30s and had been told there was no cure. He must be pulling her leg!

Now they crossed through the garden and were on a walkway headed towards another open area. “At conventional nursing homes,” Flash was explaining, “They play bingo and bridge.” He paused and spread his hands wide as they reached a large area with multiple fields, some nets, and various other contraptions Ada did not recognize. “This is our play area where we rebuild our physical and mental strength, speed, and endurance. That is where I earned my nickname last year, on that track.” He motioned to a running area like the girls had used in high school. “I never was much of an athlete,” Ada said in a worried tone. “Oh don’t you worry,” Flash consoled, “We’ll get you started easy in the pool first. You’ll have a great time here!”

After a tour of the indoor/outdoor pool area, sauna, physical therapy center, art and music room, and community room, Flash led them down the hall to Ada’s room. It was elegantly simple, decorated with a few things from Ada’s home which Mae-Lyn had brought down earlier. Flash said, “Well, ladies, it has been a pleasure! I’ll let you get Ada settled in; I’ve got to run to a racquetball game.”

After they bid him thank you and farewell, Ada turned to Mae-Lyn and inquired, “Why isn’t Joanna here? Why haven’t I seen her for such a long time?” Her daughter’s face fell. “Oh mama, we don’t have to talk about that now. It’s so lovely here and Flash was just wonderful to show us around.” She knelt and grasped Ada’s hands. “You’re going to get well here, mama, I just know it! We’re doing the right thing.”

After Mae-Lyn transferred Ada to the easy chair, she kissed her mother on the cheek and caught the Home’s shuttle to the airport for her flight back to Philly. Ada sat and muddled over her situation. She had visited friends and relatives in various nursing homes and had watched them shrink and wither and eventually refuse to eat. Ada had been resolute that she would live in her home until the bitter end, not caring if she broke her neck by falling down the stairs…or off of the toilet. But that Mae-Lyn must have had posed some convincing arguments for this place (though she failed to remember the details at the moment). It seemed nice enough, though, and it was just temporary, after all.

Her gaze traveled to the wall next to her chair, where Mae-Lyn had put together a collage of family photos. There was one of two adorable little girls holding up a big fish, the first that one of them had caught, probably. A handsome young man was standing by proudly. Well, that would be Joseph, she thought. And the littlest one…Joanna. Where are you, dear one?

Read Part 2

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References:

• Olfactory function in neuropsychiatric disorders: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/28282535
• Effects of a very low-fat, vegan diet in subjects with rheumatoid arthritis: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/11890437