I met with a lifelong friend of Mitzi’s yesterday at a place that was a favorite lunch spot of ours over the last year and a half of Mitzi’s life. I was glad to get to eat there and, in the middle of lunch, one of the waitresses came over and put her arms around me and said she just found out Mitzi had passed away. I love this place. Mitzi did as well. It’s not that it was super fancy, but the food is good and the hearts of the people who work there totally “got” everything about Mitzi. They were absolutely wonderful about accommodating us. We could always sit in a quieter booth and this is one of the few restaurants that doesn’t have music blaring constantly. They would keep tabs on us and knew when we weren’t finished but would both disappear towards the restroom. On occasion at other restaurants, we’d come back to a table that had already been cleared. They never gave me any flack when Mitzi wasn’t eating as much and we were just splitting a meal, and they never stared when we got to a point where I was feeding her. They brought extra napkins constantly and seriously went out of their way to make lunch as easy and pleasant as possible.It’s silly, but I would drive 35 minutes across town fairly often just to have such an easy dining experience there with Mitzi. My husband would even join us on occasion, and we would often pick that spot to have lunch with many other friends. I’m so grateful to all of the girls who put so much care into us. Finding a place like that…sort of like our own local (non-bar) Cheers…is such a great thing for dining out with dementia.When I pulled into the parking lot yesterday, I had to laugh. There were multiple spots on the front row. It has always been a busy parking lot at lunch and sometimes Mitzi and I would have to circle for 5 or more minutes to find a spot. As time wore on and her ability to navigate busy places and stay balanced while walking deteriorated, it became more stressful on me when we couldn’t find a decent parking spot. There were many times when I wished I had a placard for her to allow us to park in the handicapped space directly in front of the restaurant.I can’t even begin to list all of the things that have to be taken into consideration when dining out with someone who has advanced Alzheimer’s or dementia. But as long as Mitzi was still up for and able to get out, I was happy to do it. The social “normalcy” was so important to her psyche.It seemed so simple to drive into that parking lot yesterday. It was so easy to grab my own purse (for the last year and a half, I ditched my own and just carried hers everywhere for her), lock the car on purpose (and not as an afterthought because I was too busy juggling too many other things). I didn’t have to watch in every direction multiple times to make sure there was enough time for us to slowly cross the parking lot while impatient drivers preferred to fly in front of us. I only had to order for myself (even though I ordered what we always ate anyway), and I only had my own food to cut up. The conversation with Mitzi’s sweet friend was easy. There were no awkward pauses. And there was not that knowing glance between the two of us acknowledging how hard it is to watch the progression of this disease. Which made for an enjoyable lunch.As I walked out to my car, past the empty handicapped space I had so often wished we could park in, I smiled and affirmed out loud to myself that I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. No question. It was not always easy, but there is no other way I would have wanted to have spent those 3 years when I was Mitzi’s sidekick…????
