The language of metaphor is upon me again.
This time it is not a palliating client but one with a very serious dementia.
It is a lovely little woman in her 70s who has lost a few things along the way.
She knows where she lives and never would run away but she has lost alot of language and uses certain phrases for things that are anyone's guess. I love puzzles so I am pretty good with these sorts of situations.
Chicken pot pie was a hard one. I could not quite get what she was trying to tell me.
She would take me down the hall saying the phrase over and over and then she would motion me into the back bedroom and close the door. Inevitably, her husband, who is very much not demented would come in and ask if everything was all right. We would return to the other room and she would still be muttering about chicken pot pie.
He went out out the home for a few hours a visit or two ago. She grabbed my hand and said very clearly: "do you want chicken pot pie?"
"That would be very nice." I said.
"No. Not nice. It is a not nice day."
I had committed some sort of miscommunication.
"Can you show me chicken pot pie?"
"Yes yes. My husband doesnt buy me rings you know."
"You have a beautiful home."
"He doesnt love me. He says he loves me but look, chicken pot pie. He says, so I said, Mother doesnt like it, chicken pot pie."
She took the hem of her robe and lifted it up. Above her knees on her upper leg was a very nasty bruise. "Chicken pot pie"
Sometimes, I just don't know what to think.
Can you imagine me getting a Social Worker involved on that scenario?
I would like to but alas, the best prevention is involvement and we are in there now.
I hope there are no more chicken pot pies.
I hope she can relax and know someone is looking out for her.
Of course this could be a completely fabricated extrapolation on my part.
But somehow, I do not think so.
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"To push advantages too far is neither generous nor just."Johnson
