Last season’s elevator story was the kids asking about my fake leg. I explained my amputation and the two girls rolled away on their scooters. Shouting “You should be a pirate! Argh!”
Today being a pirate was not on my mind, having a mind was. After a melt-down in the counsellor’s meeting room earlier in the day I was delivered safe and sound to my building and moving towards the elevator. I said, “we can all fit.” They climbed aboard, and I was let out on my floor just one floor away and made the other passengers get out. They were trying to hold the elevator.
I all but forced them to let go when I realized, with the elevator leaving that they were indeed trying to hold the elevator to ride to the next floor. I had just started to roll away in my power wheelchair, when I remembered. “OH SHIT!” I exclaimed and wheeled around. “You were intending to go to the next floor! Oh man, I’ve just been diagnosed with dementia, and this is happening more and more often.”
The trip was from one floor to the next, and I had forgotten in those seconds what the other passengers had wanted and bullied them away. Maybe a bit harsh, and yes once I said “I ‘ve just recently been diagnosed with dementia,“ the other three passengers softened up, and said; “Oh. Don’t worry. Please this is not our greatest misfortune.”
I was not bald hmm bold enough to ask for their story and scuttled away with my catastrophic thinking, writing up the disaster. At least they didn’t live on my floor.