Prisoner of Age



  Prisoner of Age

  By Judy Madden

  Copyright 2013 Judy Madden

  Contents

  What to Do

  Going Home

  Prisoner of Age

  What to Do

  What to do. Michelle mulled over recent events as the bus made its way from stop to stop. She knew her mind was not as sharp as it was in the past. Her husband had passed and her son Mike had moved in with her. At first she had welcomed the arrangement. They were kindred spirits. She had always gotten on well with Mike, although she was saddened that he had left his wife Marlene a year after their daughter Michelle had died.

  Marlene had always been able to stand up to Michelle’s late husband James. James had been a controlling person, manipulating those close to him. Marlene never let herself be manipulated by James. She would confidently and politely stand up to him, when he would be at his self -righteous best and, ultimately was respected by James.

  Marlene and Mike had worked opposite shifts so that one was always at home for their daughter. In the year that followed Theresa’s death Mike did not go back to working days, but instead had started a relationship with a younger divorcee.

  Michelle had loved James, despite his controlling nature. Now that he was dead, she wanted to remain at home and live her own life, but, between the onset of occasional memory lapses, and that fact that the family believed she had psychiatric problems, they would not let her live alone. Her children were convinced she would not be able to look after herself.

  Michelle did not want more people in the house. It was nice to have them come and visit, but as nice as the visits were, it was nice to have them leave. Her grandson Alex and his wife and son had volunteered to move in to care for her and she had said no because she did not want a houseful of people taking over her home. When Mike volunteered to quit his job in Toronto and move in with her, they insisted that she either use that option or move into a nursing home.

  Having Mike move in had seemed to be the best option. The kids were happy someone was with her, and he did not have a wife or kids. Although she would never admit to having a favourite child, Mike was her favourite. It would be nice to have someone to help look after the house. The walls were in need of a coat of paint, and having someone who could shovel the walks in the winter would be nice.

  But now the house was becoming a prison. It was not her home any more. Bit by bit Mike was taking over the house and restricting her activities. He married the divorcee he had cheated with, and moved into her home with her son. How could Mike bring that home wrecking harlot and her son, into her house?

  The anger had built up so much that after tossing and turning one night Michelle went downstairs, now the exclusive domain of Mike and his family, pushed open the bedroom door, turned on the light and vented her wrath. “How dare you bring that hussy into my home! I want that bitch and her bastard out. They don’t belong here.” Michelle stalked back upstairs.

  At first the suddenness of it all left Mike and Cheryl dumb founded. As the shock wore off Mike felt the anger well up. He stomped upstairs, as his anger pushed the grogginess of sleep away. “Apologize to Cheryl!“

  “No.”

  “You will apologize to Cheryl, she is my wife.”

  “She is a home wrecker!”

  “She is my wife and you will apologize to her. If you do not apologize to her I will call James.” James, the oldest son, was a parish priest, and, now that his father had died, the new patriarch of the family. “We will put you in a nursing home. I will see to it.” Mike’s voice had a low threatening tone. He silently hoped she would not insist on this course of action, as he was not quite permanently installed in the home yet. The siblings may insist that he leave the house once Michelle went into a home. He needed more time before he moved the old bat out. “I will call James. I will move out of the house.” The additional threat seemed to have some effect.

  “I will apologize later.”

  “You will apologize now!” Marlene had insisted he go back to work, well after he had completed his convalescence from deep vein thrombosis. Now that he had someone in is life to support him, he had no desire to lose her, nor the free accommodations.

  Mike gripped his mother’s arm and forced her downstairs, where she apologized. After she apologized Mike guided her upstairs to the kitchen.

  Going Home

  Mike had been becoming more and more controlling. He was beginning to limit her contact with the rest of the family. He was telling the doctor that her “dementia was getting worse” Now, to protect herself from some of Mike’s wrath Michelle felt that she had to leave. She packed a bag as soon as she awoke, and slipped out of the house. She needed to go home. It had been a while since she had used the bus system, but the stop was just down the block. Hopefully it would go to the bus station and she could catch a bus back home, to the Ottawa valley.

  As the bus made its way Michelle looked for the bus station, or at least a familiar landmark. After three-quarters of an hour the bus reached the end of its route. She panicked. What would Mike do if he found her. The bus driver turned in his seat. “Hi Ma’am, where you headed to.“

  Her panic began to muddle her thinking. Theresa clenched her hands around the luggage handles. “I . . . I’m going home.”

  “Where’s home?”

  With hesitation, “I don’t know.”

  “No problem Ma’am, my supervisor will be able to help you.” He reached over to his radio.

  Back at the house Mike went upstairs. It was already 9:30 and he had not heard his mother stir yet. While she did spend a lot of time sleeping, it was unusual that she would sleep so late. By now he would have at least heard her use the bathroom. He opened the door to her bedroom. Damn. Where was she? Was she trying to ruin his gig. What would James and the others do if she found someone who would listen to her complaints. She could not have gotten far. He knew her purse had very little money. Anytime James gave her money, he would steal it from her purse, not unlike when he was a teen and wanted the money to buy booze or drugs.

  “Cheryl! Mom’s gone”, he hollered down the steps. “I’m going to look for her.“ He hoped she hadn’t went far. He went to the car, started it and started going up and down the streets. Damn. Where had she went. His palms started to get sweaty.

  The police car pulled up next to the bus. The driver stepped out of the bus and strolled over to meet the officers. After a few minutes talking to both officers, one of the officers stepped into the bus to talk to the frail looking old lady. She looked a little scared and a bit confused. “Hi I’m Constable Smith, who are you. “

  “Michelle Murphy.”

  “Where you headed Mrs. Murphy.”

  Still in a panic she replied, “I’m going home.”

  “Do you know where home is?

  Michelle gave a big sigh, and gave the officer her address. The officer looked at her eyes. They almost looked as if tears would well up at any time. “Do you live alone,” he asked, knowing in his heart she did not.

  “My son Mike lives with me.” Michelle looked down and pinched her lips together. Her lower lip protruded slightly.

  “How does he treat you?”

  “He is trying to take over my house He is going to put me in a nursing home”, she blurted out.

  “Does he physically hurt you or restrain you?” Smith looked at Michelle and thought of his own Gran and how he missed her. Even though he knew most people are loving he had seen enough greed to know how far some people would go to steal from others. He would have hated to see Gran mistreated, and this lady so reminded him of her.

  “He doesn’t hit me . . .but. . .”Theresa reco
unted recent events. At the end of her account she added, “He won’t let my daughters stay with me. When they call he tells them he needs to keep me on a routine and that I get too agitated when they get me off the routine and then have to leave”

  Smith looked thoughtfully. Well, I’ll tell you what we can do. He explained the investigation process and how the department and social services would join forces. “We will go back to the station and take your statement to start the process. The investigators will talk with your son Mike and his family, and also your other children. If anyone has witnessed any of these events we will need to talk to them as well. Is there someone else you can stay with while the investigation is in process?”

  Michelle thought about her kids and suddenly realized that her kids would put her in a nursing home. Even if everyone believed her they would still never let her live alone. A feeling of panic came over her. “No, you can’t do that. They don’t think I can look after myself, they will put me in a nursing home.”

  The officer considered her plea. Just that morning the papers carried an article about a lady being assaulted in a nursing home. He knew from his own visits to see Gran before she had passed away that they were often not very nice places. Gran’s health had deteriorated to the point where the family could not look after her, even with the assistance of home care. He remembered one of the nursing homes she had been in and how first thing in the morning the staff would put the residents in potty chairs in the hall where they could easily see them relieve themselves, and then guide them back into their rooms to look after washing and dressing them. He also knew how hard it was to prove elder abuse, especially where there was no physical abuse. And yet, he really wanted to stop the person that was causing this lady so much heartache.

  Prisoner of Age

  Mike drove up to the house after a fruitless search. As he came into the house Cheryl called up from the basement. “The police should be here any time. They found Mom. She was on a city bus.“ Thank heavens,” said Mike his palms a little sweaty, expecting that they would ask her how she was treated. He was sure he could convince them she was suffering from dementia, but what would James and the others say. Would they put her in a home and sell the house when they found out. He looked out the window and saw the police car pulling up.

  He put on his best “concerned son” face and went out the front door toward the car as Michelle was getting out. “Hi Mom, Where you been.”

  Michelle looked at him, and said sharply, “What do you mean where have I been, I just got up.” The touch of Ottawa Valley Irish graced her words. She hoped that he might actually believe she had not tried to leave, and that the police officer would not proceed with the investigation. As much as she wished Mike and his wife and step son were out of her home, she did not want to be in a nursing home. She went up the stairs and wen t into the house.

  Mike looked at the officers. We will have to come into the house ask you a few questions if you don’t mind. “Of course,” said Mike, hoping that this was just routine, and not a reaction to something his mother might have told them.

  They stepped into the home. Constable Smith noted how neat and clean it was. The walls were lined with family photos. Cheryl came upstairs, just as Michelle was heading toward the kitchen table. “Hi Mom, where did you go this morning?”

  “What did you mean where did I go? I haven’t been anywhere.” Her words and demeanor, an echo of her earlier answer to Mike’s question. She walked down the hall to her bedroom, hoping that Mike might actually believe that she had left home as a result of dementia, and not as a reasoned decision.

  Smith scanned the rooms. He knew proving elder abuse would be an uphill battle as he thought of Michelle’s pleas with him to not do anything. He looked at Mike, “On second thought, we have all the information we need.” In his mind, Mike breathed a sigh of relief. “Glad we were able to bring your mother home safe and sound.” The young police officer hoped this was not a mistake.

  Once the officer left, Mike looked in the direction of his mother’s room and thought. This could be used to advantage. Cheryl would be able to corroborate Mom’s confused state when she was returned. He also knew he needed to control his mother more so she would not leave again.

  The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He walked over to the phone and picked it up. “Hello.” It was his brother. “Hey John.” ….”Just got back from looking for Ma. She packed her bags and hopped a bus. The police brought her home.” . . . “Yeah, she really is getting more and more confused.” . . . . .”I’m thinkin’ I’ll take her bags and lock them in the basement. I’m worried she’ll wander away where she can’t be found one day. Sure don’t want anything to happen with her.” . . . “Yeah.” . . . “Yeah, I’m pretty worn out after this scare, can’t let my guard down for a moment.” . . . “She’s resting now. I’ll tell her you called.” The conversation went on for a few more minutes.

  When it ended Mike walked into him Mom’s bedroom. She was sleeping. He opened the closed door and grabbed an armload of clothing and the suitcase. Lock the whole damn issue in the basement he thought. After a couple more trips to the room he finally had all of her outer wear except the dress she was wearing. He looked over at the bed. Ma was still sleeping. This will keep her at home.

  As the door closed behind him a tear ran down Michelle’s face into the pillow. She was a prisoner of age.

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  About the author:

  Judy Madden is a writer and artist from Edmonton, Alberta