Ooma's Dementia: Trying to Keep the Big Picture

The umpire grunted, "ooowwwttt" moments after my daughter Hannah swung impressively but inaccurately for the third time. Although her determination didn't equal success, she grinned brightly because of the cheers she heard from the bleachers. This group of parents won't make any headlines for hair-pulling or berating their kids for making mistakes; they are wise enough to know that she's doing her best, and "who she is" can't be summed up in a ballgame. They know to focus on "the big picture."

Sitting next to me on the lowest level of the metal bleachers was my mother-in-law, Jean. We call her Ooma, though. She turned to me and asked, "If I get popcorn, will you eat the rest of it? I can't eat a whole box."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll eat what you don't want," I replied gently. Minutes later a box was pushed firmly into my hands, but I already knew what was inside. A quick shake of the greasy box assured my curiosity that a few golden and thoroughly salted kernels were all that was left of her snack.

"You can have the rest. I don't want it," stated Ooma, her wide eyes glistening and a warm smile spreading, proud of her generosity.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," I said flatly. If the "Old" Ooma witnessed this, she would be appalled. Dementia has transformed my beloved Ooma into a tragically different person.

As if on cue, she slowly rose up, walked over to the large plastic waste barrel emblazoned with a "Mountain Dew," sticker, took out her false teeth, and proceeded to remove the kernels that weren't selected for eternal boxdom. Two young boys with clay-stained hands and a red toy tractor watched her holding her teeth - mouths open and eyes wide. People don't generally take their teeth out in public, even in Alabama. Practiced hands slid the dentures back into place, and the boys slowly returned to the hill on which they had carefully cultivated rocks and dying weeds in the orange sand. She sat down next to me and said, "I'm not hungry anymore."

I assured her that I wasn't hungry anymore, either.