Her son called us “Thelma and Louise,” but fortunately our trip, though challenging at times, had a much happier ending. My sister Pat, dealing with a form of dementia, lives in an assisted living facility near her son and grandchildren in a town west of Boston. I live in Pittsburgh. We don’t get to see much of one another since she moved from Detroit, and she doesn’t get out and about like in the old days. I was determined to help her escape for a few days, and for us to have an adventure.
My part started earlier than planned when I learned that due to Boston traffic if I didn’t leave my airport hotel before 7 am I might as well wait until after 10. That’s why I arrived at her place at 7:30 am. I pushed a button expecting to alert someone of my arrival. To my surprise, the door opened to an empty reception area. After not finding anyone to tell me not to, I took the elevator to the 3rd floor and walked the long hallway to my sister’s apartment. I found her alone, still in her nightgown. I’ll spare you the details of how I finally got some of the “assistance” advertised in the facility’s brochures, but it took a couple hours to round up what we needed for our 4-day trip, especially her medicine dosages that I needed to become responsible for.
Since we weren’t from the area, we could have visited any art or historical site but I chose first to drive north to Salem, MA. We’d heard of the witches of course, but that was not the draw. I suspected that topic would not be given the level of serious analysis and respect I felt it deserved. I was proved right when we visited the Witch Museum. Pat said if her grandchildren were with us she wouldn’t let them see and hear the fearful, scary account of the madness that occurred in the 17th century New England, (and throughout Europe.) Our focused destination was the Peabody Essex Art Museum, one of the first art museum in the county. Because of our strong interest in the topic, we aimed to see the exhibit Playtime. The exhibit included art installations that survey the rapidly evolving role of play in contemporary art and culture. Due to Pat’s back pain, we borrowed a wheelchair and I pushed her throughout the museum and exhibit over carpeted floors, and in and out of elevators and the hordes of children who, except for the room full of balloons, had little interest in, or understanding of, the suggested activities and displays. Turns out children don’t need exhibits on Play. Art installations on Play are for adults like us. We took much inspiration from its messages. PLAY…
spurs productivity.
is a catalyst for creativity.
is an escape from conformity.
reinvents the rules.
empowers the players.
stimulates innovation.
enables exploration.
is a response to uncertainty.
rewards misbehavior.
negotiates conflict.
resists productivity.
Unlike Thelma and Louise, we didn’t have to survive a bar fight, though we did have supper in the hotel tavern where to my sister’s surprise I drank a beer. We reminisced and told stories of the olden days that only the two of us remember. Our laughter may have been a bit hardier with the beer rather than without, but the evening was a highlight of the trip. After a good night’s sleep, we headed south, through the center of Boston, to just past the historic town of Plymouth. I had a business meeting in north Plymouth on Saturday so I selected a resort hotel and spa nearest to that location.
The timing of our journey through Boston worked for the coming in, but for the going out, not so much. Finding a restroom at the exact right time became one of the trips most treacherous challenges. In this crisis of my caregiver responsibilities, I began to question my judgment. Perhaps I shouldn’t have insisted that a person with back pain needed to go to a place where she could soak in a hot tub and get a massage.
It all worked out, though not without moments of strong anxiety on both our parts. Great gratitude to Kim, an attendant at the spa, who turned out to have 20 years experience working in senior care facilities. She showed her masterful skills in soothing both our nerves when Pat decided she didn’t want a massage. Kim took each of us aside, and she told me “Your sister doesn’t want to disappoint you.” I told her, “Yes, I know. I’m planning to use that to help her have this experience.” The moment she emerged from the massage room with an expression of ecstasy on her face it all seemed worthwhile. “Every cell in my body feels alive!” she proclaimed.
Due to her medical condition, I don’t know if Pat will remember all our adventures, but I definitely will. If given the chance I intend to recount and relive them with her again and again. https://www.pem.org/exhibitions/playtime
