#RWISA “RISE-UP” TOUR, DAY 6, JOHN PODLASKI @PDOGGBIKER, @RRBC_ORG @RRBC_RWISA @TWEETS4RWISA #RRBC

MOM, I’LL NEVER FORGET THE TIME…

by John Podlaski

Remember when you were in the nursing home and I visited every other day after work? After dinner I used to bring you and your roommate, Ida, a wedge of chocolate cream pie from Arby’s. You and Ida were always surprised and claimed it was the best dessert ever. It didn’t matter that you enjoyed the same pie dozens of times during the last couple of months. You both acted as if this was the first time ever that you savored this special treat.

Although autumn, the temperature outside was still warm and comfortable enough for a walk through the property in your wheelchair. The flowers still bloomed in the gardens and occasionally, I’d stop near them so you could take a whiff. You’d smile broadly, roll your eyes back and say, “Beautiful. Come and smell, Johnny.”

I’d proceed to the bouquet, bend over, and humor you with a smile. “Yes, they are,” I’d respond.

Heading back inside, our next stop was always the 200-gallon fish tank in the main hallway. We’d force our way through the crowd to this major attraction where we could view the dozens of brightly colored fish, cruising lazily from one side to the other and then back again in the opposite direction. You loved to watch that neon colored, long, skinny, fish as it darted back and forth through the various schools of loitering fish. Every day, you told me the same thing, “Johnny, look at that beautiful fish with the bright colors. It’s my favorite.”

My response was always the same, “It’s my favorite too, mom!”

After spending our customary 15-20 minutes watching the fish, it was time to head back to your room. You were always cordial and waved to the other tenants as we passed. Sadly whenever passing the nurses station, one aisle was always packed with a dozen or so patients sitting in wheelchairs. Most were asleep, some watched the overhead televisions; others sat motionless, with eyes wide open, just staring into space. You’d always comment, “I feel sorry for them. Nobody comes to visit them.”

I’d pat you on the shoulder, “At least you have us kids visiting you every day.”

“Yep, I’m lucky,” you’d say.

On one particular evening, I remember you introducing me to one of your nurses just outside of your room. As we spoke, one of the aides stopped to mention something to the nurse. When you noticed her, you brightened right up! “Johnny, this is Kathy. She takes care of me and gives wonderful showers. You should have her give you a shower!” That caught us all off guard and we blushed and smiled briefly.

The nurse asked to speak with me, so I wheeled you back into your room and left you in front of the television before returning to the nurse in the hallway. Once there, Nurse Linda, started to fill me in.

“Your mom has been experiencing night terrors and crying uncontrollably all night long during the last couple of weeks.”

“What are night terrors?”

“Night or Sleep Terrors are episodes of screaming, intense fear and flailing while still asleep. In her case, we believe she’s dealing with PTSD and reliving part of her past.”

I was shocked to hear this.

Linda continued, “When responding to her screams, we’d find that she might be up and walking in circles or in bed talking in her sleep. The other night, ambulance attendants arrived for an emergency in the room across the hall. When your mom saw them in their uniforms, she screamed out, ‘they found them and we’ll never see them again.’ When prompted by the staff, she said, ‘the Gestapo are going to kill them now. They’ll find us too. We all need to hide.”

“Gestapo were the secret police in the Second World War,” I acknowledged.

“We talked about your mom in our weekly meeting today with the psychologist. From all the feedback, it appears that she was harboring Jews during the war and helped them escape the Nazis. There must have been some close calls for her to relive them. Unfortunately, when the doctor asked her about the dreams during the day, she has no memory of them or the actual occurrences. Having dementia doesn’t help.”

I was stunned by the news. “I’ll see if I can uncover anything new by talking to her. This is all new to us as we’ve never heard her mention these experiences before. There’s really nobody left to ask. Mom is the last survivor of her family. If anything new develops, please keep me or my sisters in the loop.”

Nurse Linda acknowledged and left, I returned to your room and found you dozed off in your wheelchair.

When I tapped you on the shoulder you immediately woke up and were quick to comment, “That nurse is very nice! They’re all very nice here.”

I sat on the bed and took your hand in mine. “Nurse Linda tells me that you’ve been having nightmares and crying all night. What’s up?”

“I know that’s what they are saying, but I don’t remember any of it.”

“Do you remember anything about the War and living in Germany before you met Dad? Something that must have scared you badly?”

You thought about that for a minute, then answered, “Johnny, that was a long time ago, and I don’t remember any of it.”

“Do you remember when the ambulance paramedics came and took the lady out from the room across the hall?”

You pulled your hand away and cupped your face with both before starting to cry. I patted you on the back and assured you that it was okay.

“Johnny, I can’t remember,” you said in between sobs. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Mom, everything is going to be okay. I forget stuff too and sometimes can’t remember what I ate for dinner last night.”

“Really?” You looked at me blankly and started to laugh.

“Yep, it’s just a part of getting old.”

As suddenly as turning off a switch, you stopped crying and returned to normal. I let the silence grow for a minute or so.

“Mom, I’m leaving tomorrow night for a business trip to Germany and will be gone for two weeks.”

“Oh…that’s nice!”

“Christine will visit tomorrow and bring you both a special dessert like the one you had today.”

“Yes, that was special. We never had anything like that before.”

Ida shook her head in agreement.

Have a nice trip, Johnny! I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Thanks mom. I love you.” I gave you a big hug and waved to you and Ida as I left.

On the drive home, I called Christine and Ingrid to inform them of my discussions with Nurse Linda. Both were surprised and mentioned that they’ll quiz you during their visits to see if they could learn more.

I received a call from Christine after my first week in Europe, she informed me that you were rushed to the hospital for heart problems. This was the third time in a couple of months; it seems your congestive heart disease was getting worse. She said that I should continue my trip as it wasn’t necessary to come home. The doctors weren’t panicking.

Four days later, Christine called again. This time she told me that you had passed away during the night. There wasn’t going to be a funeral and that your urn would be placed in the niche next to dad before I returned home.

I took out my phone and clicked to the photo I took of you during my last visit. You lived a full life and still looked good for eighty-nine. This is how I’ll always remember you. My only regret is that we’ll never find out about the bravery you exhibited and of the valiant deeds you performed during the war. RIP Mom!

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