The Birthday Party

He had been sitting by her bed for a couple of hours, reading, when she finally stirred. She emerged from her sleep slowly, with long, ponderous blinks, then stared at him blearily, blankly. He got up to stand beside her.

“Hi, Mom. How are you feeling?”

She merely looked at him, through him.

“Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?”

She shook her head slowly. She said in a rasping whisper, “I don’t know who you are. But you do seem familiar. Are you my brother Joseph?”

He grimaced. “No, Mom. Uncle Joe died more than five years ago. I’m your son, Jeremy.”

She said nothing, and presently closed her eyes once again.

* * *

“She’s about where we expect her to be. The memory loss – it’s a toss-up if that’s from the Alzheimer’s or the astrocytoma. However, she’s been having more frequent hallucinatory episodes, and that’s almost certainly from the tumor pressing on her temporal lobes and causing dream-like seizures.”

Jeremy sat slumped in his chair in Dr. Samuel Kyle’s office. He said, “She keeps seeing faces, people then?”

Dr. Kyle said, “Yes. Some of them frighten her, some confuse her. The nurses sometimes catch her talking to herself, questioning people who aren’t there. And she's starting to suffer from misperceptions, misidentifications; sometimes she mistakes the nurses for other people, people from her past.”

Jeremy looked at the neurologist balefully. “I know. She thought I was her brother just now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jeremy stood up heavily. Dr. Kyle observed him with a clinical eye. He said, “Are you taking care of yourself, Jeremy? I’m sure you got that talk about how caregivers have to make sure to see to their own needs.”

Jeremy smiled wanly. “I’m fine. I’m just a little worn out. It’s just been a long couple of years, you know?” He shook Dr. Kyle’s hand. “I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s her birthday.”

“Yes, I’d heard you wanted to give her a party.”

Jeremy’s smile faded. “Well, that was the plan. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find anyone to come.” He shrugged. “Most of her friends are gone or not in good health themselves. It’ll just be me, most likely.”

“What about your family?”

Jeremy shook his head. “My father’s passed away. Her brother and sister are both gone, too. Maybe my sister, if I can convince her.”

Dr. Kyle leaned back in his chair. “Well, a small, quiet celebration might be for the best. This may sound terrible, but it’s not likely she would appreciate a party… or remember it afterwards, really. Her short-term memory is almost gone.”

Jeremy looked grim as he left.

* * *

“It’s her 78^th birthday, Shannon,” Jeremy said to his sister over the phone. “Are you really sure you can’t make it?” He had thought of reminding her that with the tumor slowly growing in her brain, their mother likely wouldn’t have a 79^th – but he decided against playing that card.

A short silence over the line. “I told you before, tomorrow’s a really busy day for me. We’re doing inventory at the store, I can’t take the day off. And it’s an hour and a half drive to the home.”

“But if you…”

“Besides, it’s not as if she’ll even know it’s her birthday,” she continued, talking over him, echoing Dr. Kyle’s line of reasoning. “She won’t even remember it the next day.” He let the justification, the excuse of their mother’s mental deterioration – which he had heard a number of times from people he had tried to invite to the party – pass. He understood it to be cover for the reluctance, the fear, the sadness of dealing with someone who wasn’t all there, who was all but gone.

Shannon went on, “My shifts will lighten up in a few weeks, after we get through our busy season. I’ll try to visit her next month.”

“Okay.”

“You let me know if anything changes with her, all right?”

“Okay.”

* * *

One last try.

Jeremy stood beside his parked car in front of the college hall steps, scanning the young men and women as they streamed out the front door. Finally he saw his son emerge with a small group of friends. Jake spotted him, and, with a quick word to his friends, went down the steps to Jeremy.

Jake looked confused. “Hey, Pops. What’s up? What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering if you got my invitation to your grandmother’s birthday party tomorrow.”

“Um, yeah. Or Mom told me about it. Didn’t she get back to you?”

“Well, yes. I know your Mom doesn’t want to come; I understand if it’s still too soon after the divorce. But I was hoping you would change your mind and join us. It’ll just be an hour or two for lunch.”

Jake glanced back at his friends, who were watching them from the steps. “Um, yeah. I don’t know. It’s such a long way. And I have a study group tomorrow.”

Jeremy nodded. “I understand.”

Jake studied his father, noting the sag of his shoulders, the tight set of his mouth, then said, “You know what? Why not. I haven’t seen Grams in months. What time is it? Would you mind if I rode with you?”

Jeremy’s face brightened. “Of course, not a problem. I’ll pick you up at your house at 10:30.”

Jake patted his father’s arm, then turned to rejoin his friends.

* * *

On the day of the party, a blessing. When Jeremy entered his mother’s room, he noticed at once that she seemed a little stronger, a little more alert than usual. She was propped up on her bed with pillows, and she looked like she had been freshly cleaned up and dressed by the nurses. She peered at Jeremy closely as he came in burdened with take-out food and a small box of cake.

She smiled and said in greeting, “Joseph.”

Jeremy paused just inside the room. She looked past him, and smiled again. Jake had just come in after his father, towing behind him several brightly-colored balloons. “And Jeremy. How nice to see you, son. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Jeremy and Jake exchanged glances. Jake said, “Um, it’s Jake, Grams. Happy Birthday.”

But she had turned back to stare at the open door, her smile widening further. She said, “And Beth, and my good friends Chandra and Pepper and Ward, and Mr. Abe, and Mrs. Woods from down the block, and Mom and Dad. But where’s Shannon? Oh, here she comes. How are you, dear?”

Jeremy and Jake cast about the near empty room as they set the food on the side table and tied the balloons in various spots. She continued looking around beatifically at her phantom guests, nodding to each one in turn.

She said, “My, I don’t know how we’ll all fit in this small room.” Then her face turned anxious, and she waved to Jeremy to come closer. She whispered, “But where’s Tom? Why isn’t he here yet?”

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, “Um, Mom, Dad’s not coming. He left us, you know, quite a while…”

But she had turned away from him, smiling again, looking at the still open door. “Oh, there he is.”

Jeremy turned to where she was gazing, expecting to see just more empty space. He was startled to see Dr. Kyle standing at the doorway with a bouquet of flowers. He said to Jeremy, “I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by. I just wanted to drop this off for Mrs. –”

She stretched out her thin arms to him, saying, “Thomas, sweetheart.”

Dr. Kyle looked at Jeremy questioningly as he walked in. Jeremy whispered to him hurriedly, “My father. She thinks you’re my father.” Jeremy looked at him with an expression wrought with pleading.

Dr. Kyle returned his stare, momentarily nonplussed, then nodded. He turned to Jeremy’s mother and laid the bouquet beside her. “And how are you today, dear one?”

She took his hands in hers. “I’m very happy. Is this all for me? Is it my birthday?”

Dr. Kyle said, “Yes, it is. Happy Birthday.”

She closed her eyes blissfully. “It was so good of you to surprise me with a party. How did you get everyone to come?”

Dr. Kyle glanced at Jeremy, “Well, actually, it was Jeremy’s idea. He planned the whole thing.”

She turned to Jake and motioned him over. She pulled him slowly to her to clasp him in an embrace. “You are such a thoughtful boy. I am so blessed to have such a thoughtful boy. This is the best party I have ever had. I will never forget it.”

Dr. Kyle sensed Jeremy move away and sit down on the armchair by the window. He turned to look at him, then quickly interposed himself between him and his mother, so that she could not see him as he sat on the chair, his face in his palms, his shoulders heaving silently as he was wracked with soundless sobs.

(January 2013)