Sky and Jane: The Incident

Sky:

Well, it finally happened..a surprise, intense visit from Dr. Dementor, himself… Yes, the Dementor-in-Chief paid me a personal visit just so I don’t forget who who is in charge.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, I suppose, the stage was all set for some chaos…

…. I was tired, at the end of an exhausting day…

…. maybe even running a fever….

…. I was far from home. Over a thousand miles, doing volunteer work at the Texas/ Mexico border….

I was scared.

I was convinced a rowdy Mardi Gras parade would pour around the corner into the New Orleans dive bar where I was holed up with Jane and and the baby I was entrusted to keep safe. 

I was scared.

I told Jane we had to get out of there. It was no longer a safe place. I hear her try to explain to me that we are not in New Orleans. Dr. Dementor was there. I couldn’t see him, just feel his presence in the chaos. The bar was also in the chaos. So was a trampling horde, just out of sight. I know I could only get out of there by a super effort.

I’m in two places at once. Isn’t that impossible? Jane is there trying to talk me down. I can hear her. Beside her is the Doctor, with his heedless trampling street musicians. I know where I have to go. With Jane.

Then, all of a sudden….snap…..I’m out… back… another thousand miles away…..safe again.

I don’t EVER want to experience this again …. but I know it’s just a matter of time.


Jane:

Sky and I were in San Antonio, TX trying to relax after a week of volunteering at a refugee respite center on the US/Mexican border. All the refugees had colds, and we had succumbed the day before, and were challenged by the six-hour drive to San Antonio. Happy to be in a comfy room, we slept, despite our fevers, runny noses, and coughs.

Sky woke early — 5:15 — and insisted we get up and get going.

“I have to do my hearing aids! Where should I sit and clean them? Over there!” He pointed at the room’s desk. 

“Sky, it’s early in the morning. We’re not going anywhere for several hours. Go back to sleep.” 

He went on and on long enough about the hearing aids that I gave up and made us coffee. As he continued to fuss, I went onto Facebook to pass the time. Friends of ours from New Orleans had been in a pre-Mardi Gras parade the night before, and posted photos. I showed them to Sky.

Within minutes he stopped raving about the hearing aids, and moved onto saying, “I don’t want to be in a parade! I don’t want to be in a parade!” 

“We’re not going to be in parade, Sky. We’re not in New Orleans, we're in Texas, we’re headed to the ministers’ retreat.”

“I don’t want to be in a parade! I don’t want to be in a parade!”

Nothing I said — i.e. giving Sky factual information — helped. He continued to rave about the parade, periodically adding that he was afraid of getting separated from me. I assured him I was right there, and not going anywhere. 

Finally, I said I was going back to sleep, and I hoped he would, too. 

When I woke up, Sky had stopped ranting and raving — about either the parade or the hearing aids. I was relieved. Was he back to normal? What had caused this delirium? A fever? Being in a new place? A new stage of his dementia?

Sky said that he felt like he was “coming back,” yet he was surprised to hear that he had been ranting and raving — he knew something wasn’t right, but didn’t remember what it was. He never told me about the dive bar, the baby, or the street musicians. I just learned about them now, same as you. 

Three days later, still not fully “back,” he said he wanted to go home, sleep in his own bed, be safe.

So, we packed up and hit the road. Five days later we were home. 

I often ponder those three hours when Sky entered into a new reality, one that had no relationship to the reality I was in. It still is a mystery to me why it happened, but it gave me a glimpse of what is to come.