Saturday, January 22, 2011

What a Winkle

I absolutely love the weird conversations I have with my dementia residents, and there's one that pretty much always takes the cake. "Cookie" hallucinates and can be very difficult to deal with, but she's often very focused on wanting to see a doctor and wanting every person she sees to be a healthcare professional. So I usually address her as Ms. Oven instead of Cookie, and emphasize that I'm a nursing assistant rather than a caregiver in order to get her cooperation. I once had to wrestle a wet incontinence brief away from Cookie, who gave it up only when I told her I needed the sample for the Doctor. Gross.

Anyway, over the weeks, Cookie has come up with some good ones; telling me the Borg are trying to get her when I go to wake her up in the morning, hitting on the life-size dancing Santa that we had up at Christmas, telling my female coworker what a "gorgeous guy" she is.

The other day I went to get Cookie up out of her armchair to go use the bathroom, and she had a little stuffed animal sitting on her walker. "Look at my Baby!" she said, as I approached her, "Isn't he cute? What should I name him?"

Her stuffed animal was a little moose, so I said "How about Bullwinkle?"

Cookie blinked at me for a long moment, then said "He's from . . . where? He's a Winkle, you say? Is he a Winkle?"

I answered "I think he might be, what do you think?"

"Yes, probably. A Winkle."

Oh, Cookie!

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