Face, Church, Daisy and Red

After talking about UTIs, thyroid problems, meds for dizziness, and kidney issues, a memory test was given. The nurse practitioner left, and another nurse came in with one piece of paper that resembled a children’s worksheet. I could see animals and numbers on it and immediately reminded me of something you see in a children’s Highlights magazine. I wanted to play but the test wasn’t for me.

 

Next to me in the examination room was my 85-year-old mother. We sat in two boxy mid-century chairs, with her walker in front of us. Her purse hung from the arm of the walker. The nurse sat on a chrome industrial stool. The room was unremarkable, small, and as common as the parking lot out front. The American examination room has withstood trends, renovation, and the Home Depot remodeling wave. It’s a force of consistency.

 

The nurse scoots over and holds the sheet like a menu. Connect letters and numbers in sequential order. Correct. Kinda. Draw a rectangular 3-d box. Correct. Draw a clock at 10 past 11. Fail. Identify a horse, rhinoceros, and giraffe. 2 out of three. Remember the words face, church, daisy, and red. 2 out of 4. What is 100 minus 7? 105. Wrong. The date? Correct. The year? Wrong.

 

The nurse was conciliatory, giving off  “not bad” and “I would’ve missed some of those” vibes. I tried to keep score in my head while playing along, and it appeared she was in the D+/C- category. The nurse leaves to get a urine hat for a sample.

 

“How did I do, Hun?”

 

“You did fine, mom. You missed a few but it’s easy to get a Rhino confused with a Hippopotamus. I think you got confused with the clock because you drew a very intricate grandfather clock. You did fine.”

 

She scored 20 out of 30.

 

The test was irrelevant, though. The real test -the test she failed - was on the ride to the appointment. A simple trip of one road for 10 miles and then a left, turned into a right, a few lefts, a U-turn, and a few miles the wrong way. I pulled over and googled the address. It was a sobering moment. It was death’s doorbell.

 

On the way home I softly repeated 4 words: face, church, daisy, and red. Most of my family have died or are dying from Alzheimer’s. When I forget these 4 words, it’ll be my time.