The Pharmacist

Sarah was kept busy for the rest of the day, with the residents unusually demanding, and didn’t see Alice until it was almost time to go home as she passed her open door. Alice called out to her, and dutifully she entered the room, smiling her usual, cheery smile.

‘Sarah, what did Rachel say to you this morning?’ Alice sounded anxious.

‘Nothing important, I think perhaps I’d overstepped the mark by offering the use of the visitors’ lounge, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Did she say anything about Millie?’ Alice looked close to tears. ‘I only ask because she told me she didn’t have a daughter, which is ridiculous. Why would she deny her own child?’

‘I think you might be getting confused, Alice. I’m sure you’d love a little granddaughter, so maybe you just imagined one?’ Even as she spoke, Sarah knew the words sounded feeble, patronising even, and the pained look on Alice’s face saddened her. It was as if she’d betrayed her.

‘Sarah, please… you’re the only one here who talks to me as if I’m a human being. Everyone else is treating me like a child or a madwoman. I know I haven’t imagined Millie, and I also know that my husband isn’t dead! While I’m here, I have no way of proving it, and I don’t know why Rachel’s telling all these lies. If only I could get out of here. Will you help me, please?’

Sarah was stunned by the sudden crazy request and didn’t quite know what to say. If Alice was asking for help to escape, there was no way she could do that.

‘I really can’t help you to get home, Alice. It’s up to the doctor to decide when you can leave and he needs to be sure you’ll be safe living on your own.’ Sarah knew the answer was inadequate and not what Alice wanted to hear, but what more could she say?

‘I know all that,’ a look of desperation crossed Alice’s face, ‘and I wouldn’t want you to do anything that would get you into trouble, but maybe you could find Tom for me?’

Sarah was in a difficult situation; should she play along with this disturbed lady or simply say no? Finally, she decided on honesty.

‘Alice, I wouldn’t be able to find Tom because your husband died a few years ago. I’m so sorry, but your illness is making you forget things. Try to rest now. Rachel’s visit seems to have tired you out. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She gently squeezed her hand. Alice said nothing more but simply turned to stare out of the window, disappointed, her eyes brimming with tears. Sarah felt utterly wretched, but Rachel was probably right and she shouldn’t encourage her in these fantasies, yet not being able to ease Alice’s mind was so hard.

That night Sarah dreamed that she was smuggling Alice out of The Elms, and the two of them rode off into the night, like Thelma and Louise, in an open-top sports car. When Sarah awoke, the vivid dream stayed with her and she couldn’t stop thinking about it, ridiculous though it was. Jack laughed heartily when she described the dream over breakfast, but Sarah was troubled by Alice’s predicament. The sensible thing to do would be to avoid conversing with her, but that wouldn’t be right either, so Sarah just hoped that Alice might have forgotten their previous day’s conversation and would drop the subject.

For some strange reason, Sarah felt drawn to this resident more than to any other. Perhaps it was the fact that Alice was so young to have dementia – anyone would feel compassion for a fellow human being with such a cruel disease, and we can never be sure of our own fate. But Sarah’s natural empathy for Alice meant that she couldn’t avoid her either. She would care for her the same as the other residents in The Elms; to continue to do her very best.

As it happened, Alice seemed very much brighter when Sarah did pop into her room that morning and nothing more was mentioned about her strange request of the previous day. It was a relief to Sarah not to have to revisit the subject. Instead, they discussed the books she’d read and Sarah was pleased to learn that Alice was managing to concentrate long enough to read and retain the storyline in her head. It was good to have a neutral topic to discuss and there seemed to be a mutual, unspoken, agreement not to bring up the subject of the ‘imagined’ grandchild or Rachel’s visit.

While Alice showered, Sarah made up her bed and changed the water in the bedside jug. She felt that the room would benefit from a few personal items. It was a short-stay room and rather bland in its décor; magnolia walls devoid of any pictures and the pale striped curtains, sun-bleached of their original colour. Most of the residents cheered up their rooms with family photographs or cherished possessions from home displayed on the bare surfaces. Some even brought in their own bedding and curtains of their choosing or even a few pot plants. Sarah, however, wouldn’t be the one to approach Rachel with this idea. If it looked as if Alice’s stay was to be extended, then she’d leave it to one of the staff to suggest such things to her daughter.

Alice was undoubtedly something of an enigma. Her behaviour didn’t quite fit into the pattern exhibited by the others on her floor, many of whom developed ‘magpie tendencies’, regularly taking items that appealed to them. The reservations of their former selves were lost with the illness and their behaviour reverted to being childlike again. Alice, however, generally appeared to be rational, following a conversation or the plot of a book or television programme with comparative ease. At other times, she experienced difficulty with concentration but generally knew where she was and maintained her desire to go home. But her short-term memory was letting her down and Sarah was well aware that if the diagnosis proved to be vascular dementia, gradual deterioration was expected and sadly, there would be no improvement.

Remembering Jack’s words of caution, Sarah mentally warned herself not to become emotionally involved where Alice was concerned.

Later that afternoon, as Sarah approached Alice’s room to offer tea or coffee, Rachel’s voice made Sarah pause, not wishing to see the woman again after the incident of the previous day.

‘No, it’s Friday today, not Thursday.’ Rachel sounded weary as she corrected her mother.

‘Are you sure because we usually have fish for dinner on Friday, but we didn’t today?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

Sarah hesitated, then turned back to go into another resident’s room, berating herself for being a coward. But the snatch of conversation she’d overheard troubled her. There was something about Rachel Roberts which made Sarah decidedly uncomfortable.