Doubt
Is what I find in her face as she fumbles with the shoulders of her jacket

Last week, there were germs, germs, germs in her hair and could I get them out could I fix it

Lifting her fragile arthritic fingers to her bang she said so dry so dry something's not right she's confused I must be the wrong person are the germs gone

Beverly. Red haired Beverly who used to "i thank you I thank you!" So pleasantly left for Florida and the dementia the medicine the combination of both have disturbed her into more confusion wandering around the retail room unsure of how to find the word goodbye in the file of her brain and instead just said "yes yes" with the worry on her face

Beverly who used to explain how curly she had to have her hair because its just not curly like her sisters hair this Beverly who now for split seconds knows exactly what she wants and forgets in the middle of her sentence explaining it

The lines on her face are turning into worry and mistrust because the dementia is taking over like cancer in her mind and it is showing in her tiny blue eyes.

I rub her head and slowly work out the dry from her ends with string conditioners and tell her yes I've got the germs out all of them and everything's going to be fine, just fine

I curl her hair under tightly and cover that spot I know she doesn't like to show off in her bang and I use strong hairspray the one with the purple cap so that next week it will still look somewhat put in place still even after 6 nights of sleep

She does not thank me and she barely smiles now but I know the other Beverly who used to exclaim "oh my husband must come see you!!oh thank you thank you!" Over and over she'd say the same thing whether it be from the stroke or the dementia, I'm not sure but she was a sweet, sweet woman. I know she still is.

I respect her. A teacher once. A mother. A wife still. I know her husband likes bacon and that he takes her for breakfast before her appointments and that he tells her whatever you want honey get whatever you want done. and i know that he is a good good man. She used to always tell me that. We don't talk about that anymore. Just the germs and I must remember the hearing aids at the shampoo bowl and to not hold the curling iron on her ends to long bc they've been destroyed from perms.

I know that someday it might be me. And I believe the way you treat others is the way you will be treated. You do reap what you sow.

And who knows? She may be an angel in disguise and I am just not aware.

"Do unto others as you would have them do to you."