Mrs. Betsy

A nursing home building with a brown exterior is seen in view. I step off the elevator, and head down the hallway, to an open room. In the corner of my eye, I see an elderly women hiding herself under the table. Mrs. Betsy, a 90-year-old women, with a plump figure, frail white hair and warm cocoa brown eyes.

From down the hall, two nurses rush out from the room, Susan and Nancy, “Where did she go?” I stay clueless, as I watched the two nurses aimlessly search for her. The running steps from the nurses was getting closer to me. I look away from Mrs. Betsy.

“Did you see Mrs. Betsy come this way?” said Susan.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. No, I didn’t see anyone,” I said.

She rolled her eyes at me and with an attitude, she said, “Of course you didn’t.”

Nancy yells from across the room, “She’s right here! Under the table.”

They rush to the table. There goes my entertainment for the morning. Time to work.

I walked towards the nurses, as they struggle to get Mrs. Betsy out, from under the table. I can tell she was out of breath, from the way her chest was rising and descending. Her hand was curled up near her forehead. She was repetitively rocking herself back and forth. Her lips were moving but I couldn’t hear her. Susan yanks onto Mrs. Betsy arm. Nancy grabs her other arm which causes her to stay in place. Mrs. Betsy is alarmed from the sudden retainment, her body jerks in every direction, hoping to get free of their grasp.

This wasn’t any other rebellious act. Something was wrong.

“Stop! Can’t you see she’s having an anxiety attack!” I yelled.

“Step away from her immediately!” The two nurse steps away as I rush to Mrs. Betsy.

I grab an ice packet from the counter and snap it into effect immediately. I place it firmly in her shaking, frail hands. As I wait for the coldness to kick in, I put my hands on the back of Mrs. Betsy.

In a calm, reassuring voice, I said, “Mrs. Betsy, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”

I touch the ice pack, cold to the touch. Good, it’s working.

I look to Mrs. Betsy, “Breath…breath with me.” Mrs. Betsy looks at me and this time we make eye contact.

“Becca, you’re here,” she said with a smile.

“Yes, I’m here. Breath with me…come on, breath,” I said. As I inhaled, Mrs. Betsy inhaled with me.

“Okay, breath out.” We both exhaled. We continue this process for three more turns. Mr. Betsy breathing becomes more stable.

“Look, she thinks she’s Becca again,” Susan said as she turned to Nancy.

“Since you got it, we’ll leave her to you, come on, let’s go,” said Nancy with a snotty tone.

“This memory care unit is not for me,” Susan said.

They head down a hallway and enter another resident’s room. I managed to get Mrs. Betsy on her feet. She clings onto me as we slowly walk to her room.

“No, no, I don’t want to go in there…it’s not safe,” Mrs. Betsy said in an unsettling tone.

I noticed a chair outside her room.

“Alright, I won’t bring you in there, but I’ll go check the room to make sure it’s safe, okay? Sit here.”

I made sure Mrs. Betsy is stabilized in the chair before I entered her room. I stop at the front of her entrance; the room is dark. My left hand automatically swipes up for the light switch. The light turns on, only half of the room is lit. I search the room for another source of light, in the corner, a lamp is present. I walk over and switch the lights on. There. I can see every part of the room.

I removed the blankets from her bed, “Nothing under the blanket, it’s safe.”

Mrs. Betsy peeps her head into the room. I can feel her eyes follow me as I head to the closet, I open it.

“All good in here too,” I said in a reassuring tone. I head towards her bed, my body leans to the ground, I look under her bed. “Nothing in here as well, we’re safe.”

Mrs. Betsy slowly walks in and points to another direction, “How about the window? Is there anyone out there?”

My eyes follow the direction of her finger. I head to the window and open the blinds. I turn my head to the right, then to the left. Lastly, I look ahead, a building that reads “Research Facility”.

“It’s safe out here too,” I said as I look at Mrs. Betsy.

“Whew, that’s good,” she said in relieve.

I stretch my hand out to her, her eyes follow my arm then up to my face, I smiled at her. She smiles at me back.

“Oh Becca, my sweet Becca, you finally came to see me,” she said as she grabbed my hand.

It’s like the fear in her earlier, just disappeared. I lead her to a brown overused reclining sofa.

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” I answered, knowing that Becca, was in fact, not me. Lia is who I am but to Mrs. Betsy, I’m known as her daughter, Becca. On the cabinet, near the TV, there’s a family portrait of Mrs. Betsy and her husband, and in the center between them, there, a smiling Becca is present. Everyone says we look alike, but I don’t see it. Becca hasn’t come to visit Mrs. Betsy, ever since she got admitted into the nursing home and her husband passed away a few years ago.

I know lying to Mrs. Betsy is wrong. I stopped reminding her that I was Lia, she would forget the very next day, which, I don’t blame her at all. I, too…also, forget to tell her I’m Lia. Being Becca made my work easier though, it was the only way to snap Mrs. Betsy out of her startling episodes.

Poor Mrs. Betsy… to have all her loved ones, not in her life. I couldn’t imagine. I sit next to her as she slowly dwindles back and forth from falling asleep and being awake. I look over to her bed and see her BiPap. Without it, she can’t breathe in her sleep. I grab it and place the breathing tube over her nose. I hover my hands near her nose, making sure no air was leaking.

There. She can sleep more comfortably.

I hear a sound coming from the restroom. I look towards the direction of the restroom. The lights are off, it was dark, I couldn’t see the back of the restroom walls. My feet slowly follow one another into the restroom, there, I hear a faint breathing. Almost as if it was coming from a person. I quickly turned on the lights. My eyes rapidly scan the room for a person. Nothing.

Was that my breathing? I inhaled and exhaled, no, that wasn’t mines.

Someone’s in here. I know it.

I look to where the bath curtain is, the bottom of the curtain doesn’t fully touch the ground. The only thing I see at the bottom is a brown dress shoe, with, what I’m assuming, blood stains on it. Someone is behind this bath curtain. I instantly felt an uncomfortable sensation coming from my back and sending chills throughout my body.

I grab the plunger near the toilet. I grab the curtains and yank it out of view.

“AHH!” I yelled in terror.

The plunger was already in the air, and it was going to hit the man in front of me. I look the man straight in the eye, it was a face I was familiar with, I look at the plunger to stop it, but it was already too late, it was going to hit him in the face. A loud noise comes from the impact. He falls to the ground. He gestures me with his finger to be quiet.

“Are you okay?” said Mrs. Betsy.

“Yes, I’m okay. I just fell,” I answered in a sweet, high octave voice to hide my underlining livid tone.

“Oh no, be careful!” Mrs. Betsy said in a worried tone.

“Oh, I will!” I said sweetly but with an infuriated face shown.

I gesture to him that I’ll be back. I close the curtain. I walk out of the restroom.

“I’m just going to check on the other residents, press the green button if you need anything,” I said.

She didn’t answer me as she fell back asleep. I stick my head out of the door to see if the hallway is clear. He peeps his head out of the bath curtain.

I gesture him to follow me. We head into the storage room.