I arrived at Regency shortly after lunch had ostensibly ended.  Deloris, an extremely -- extremely -- slow eater,  sat at a table in the dining room, half her meal still in front of her.  Dessert was gone, of course, as was half the chocolate EnSure.  I was happy to find her awake and pretty aware of her surroundings, as well as the lack of activity.  A few other residents, a caregiver, and cleaning personnel in the room.  Post-meal   Normal downtime -- and lunch time for some staff. . 

I sat down next to Deloris, who seemed happy to see me.  I had talked with Ginnie, her "baby sister" (as Dee describes her) the other day, and wanted to share news of her family.   Deloris perked up a bit when she heard Ginnie's name, was interested in hearing "the news," and seemed to be tracking a bit.  She recognized her family members by name, although what images and connections came into her mind I have no idea.  Didn't really care; it was just grist for the conversational mill-some news I could share which I hoped had meaning for her. It seemed to, although there was minimal verbal response and her normal emotional affect is one of relaxed acceptance, a facial neutrality which I think is indicative of both an inability to process and display emotions outwardly.  It's an energy allocation thing -- how much energy can I, Deloris,  afford to/wants to spend to display an emotion however momentarily? I still feel the emotion probably at a different level/temperature than before.  I have suffered neuro damage after all.   I, Allan, am working on being able to read the non-verbal, non-kinetic clues.  Learn to read nuance and subtle not totally intentional  body shifts-to read body language.  It's in the eyes. 

When she lost interest in what I was saying, or there was a lull, Deloris would seem to alternate between staring into space, looking at me, and gazing at the remains of her lunch.  Not engaged with any of it, other than whatever was going on within the confines of her mind. And, seemingly undisturbed by whatever she was sensing and experiencing.  I was happy just to hang out with Deloris, holding hands with my wife while I received  monosyllabic responses to some of my questions.  Conversation didn't matter.  Classic rock formed the afternoon's Amazon Music background.  Staff presence, like that of residents, was minimal.  The cleaning crew was in full swing, taking advantage of the slow time to clean without interference.  Overall, it was quieter than usual -- no television, much fewer people up and about.  Very pleasant. 

I had driven up to Oak Harbor with my neighbor and friend Ian, who was visiting his wife, also a resident.  The four of us were neighbors in Seattle still are in Freeland after we separately moved full-time to Whidbey.  Since his wife was diagnosed with early onset dementia about the same time Deloris had her stroke, we've been sharing our caregiver-journeys as a two-person support circle.  And driving up together is good catch-up time. When he was ready to leave, I said good-bye to Deloris, collected a bunch of kisses, and Ian and I headed back to Freeland. All in all, a pleasant, if uneventful, visit -- the best kind.   

Hugs, love, and laughter,

Allan