By: Marie Marley, Ph D
Kansas City Hospice Volunteer
Ed, my Romanian soul mate, had Alzheimer’s, and I knew I’d never be able to accept it. It was so bad I couldn’t have a meaningful two-way exchange with him. He couldn’t advise me about my problems or praise me for my successes as he’d always done. He couldn’t provide emotional support and be that solid rock who had always been there for me. I often felt overcome by the loss of that great man I’d loved so deeply for more than thirty years.
Marie Marley (left) with her partner of 30 years Ed (right) the year he died.
One morning before going to the Alois Alzheimer Center to visit him, I stopped by Walgreens to buy some shampoo. To get the shampoo, I had to pass by the stuffed animal section. I had no idea why, but those sweet little playthings caught my eye and brought Ed to mind.
Would he like a stuffed animal? He was childlike at times.
I immediately told myself I was crazy and that he’d feel insulted and become irate if I gave him a mere child’s toy. I remembered reading that some experts say people living with Alzheimer’s are adults and should be treated with dignity. They shouldn’t be given children’s toys. But I’d also read that other experts say if toys give people with Alzheimer’s pleasure, why wouldn’t you give them toys?
Finally, on a whim and against my better judgment, I decided to buy one. I figured that if I got him a tiny stuffed animal, he’d be less likely to be offended and angry than if I took him a very large one. So, I chose a little yellow chick. When you pressed a red button on its chest it said “peep, peep, peep.”
On the way to the Alois Center, I kept wondering what a 78-year-old man was going to do with a stuffed animal that peeped? That former erudite scholar, lawyer, and professor of French? The man who’d spoken four languages fluently and read three others? The man who’d had such a brilliant mind?
I arrived, walked through the spacious lobby and went down the long hallway to Ed’s room, swinging the little plastic bag from Walgreens, worried about how Ed was going to react. When I entered his room, he looked up from the newspaper he was trying to read and smiled at me.
“I brought you a present today, Ed,” I said, smiling back and summoning all my courage.
I held the chick for him to see, then handed it to him. At first, he didn’t react at all. He just sat there looking at the thing. I wondered what was going on in his mind. But I didn’t have to wait much longer. His eyes began to sparkle, and a look of wonder came over his face. He gazed at me as though I’d just given him something magical.
I showed him how to push the little red button. The chick went “peep, peep, peep.” He looked at me again as though he’d just witnessed a miracle. His eyes shone and he started laughing and pushing the button repeatedly, putting the chick to his ear each time. Then he held it by its little feet with his left hand and began stroking its back with his right hand.
“Mar-r-rie, I can’t enough thank you,” he said with his usual Romanian accent and flawed syntax. “You help me so much and now this wonderful present you brought me.”
“I think you should give it a name,” I said.
“The Lee-tle Yellow One!” he announced with glee.
“I’m coming to visit you again tomorrow,” I said, changing the subject.
“Oh, I’m delighted!” he said. And then he asked, “Do you know who else is delighted?”
“No. Who?”
“The Lee-tle Yellow One!” he said, laughing.
It was clear he was aware and proud he’d said something amusing, and I laughed with him.
Hearing the excitement in his voice, I decided to take a chance and asked, “Would you like to have a bunny rabbit, too?”
“Oh, yes! I would love a bunny r-r-rabbit to have because he would be for the Lee-tle Yellow One a companion.”
So, I decided that if stuffed animals gave him so much pleasure maybe I’d keep bringing him little ones, and maybe even start interacting with him as though he were a child. It wasn’t the kind of interaction I’d been wanting all those months, but I guessed it would be better than sitting in silence and feeling dejected and unloved during my visits.
Ed’s entire collection of stuffed animals.
On my way home, I realized that when I’d experienced his joy at that tiny stuffed animal my heart began to be transformed. Gradually, my need and desire for my ‘old Ed’ began melting away as I realized that I could bring such happiness to my ‘new Ed.’ The man who had lost so much was in a state of child-like bliss thanks to my small gift.
I eventually became aware that little by little and without even noticing, I had accepted his condition and I had found new ways to relate to him – ways that were genuinely satisfying for both of us. Just seeing him smile and hearing him laugh had become more than enough to make up for losing our previous relationship. My heart had changed forever. Our love had adapted and endured, despite Alzheimer’s – the last and most daunting obstacle it would ever face.
This article has been published in honor of World Alzheimer’s Month in September. This story was awarded Honorable Mention in the 2012 Writers-Editors International Writing Competition.
Marie Marley has been a volunteer patient visitor for Kansas City Hospice & Palliative Care since 2019. In 2023 Ingram’s Magazine named her a Hero in Healthcare for her volunteer service. Marie is also the author of Come Back Early Today: A Memoir of Love, Alzheimer’s and Joy. Visit her at ComeBackEarlyToday.com.
Posted in Kansas City Hospice, Voices of Care, Volunteer Stories