Assumptions
For Ruth, her first meeting with Skylar was nothing memorable. Having worked in the dementia ward of the Seashore Nursing Home for 13 years, she was used to seeing visitors wearing the same look that Skylar had that day: haunted eyes yet a smile plastered on their face, to reassure their admitted loved one that everything was all right, or to convince themselves of the same, she wasn’t sure. This look was easily distinguishable from the patients, who either wore a blank expression that showed they did not comprehend what was happening, or very agitated at being at a strange place. The carers’ smiles were common when the patients were first brought in. Fresh out of taking full-time care of their gradually declining loved ones, families were very relieved and grateful when they got some respite. Eventually, they would get too overwhelmed from watching their loved ones losing all basic and cognitive functions. The smiles would disappear, though most would still remember to thank the support staff every chance they got. Seeing patients and families go through the things they did, Ruth never bore any grudge towards carers who did not show the same level of gratitude that most did. It was a painful disease, both for the patients and their families. When she had first started working, Ruth often found her dreams haunted by the patients who were having a particularly difficult time. She would look at her young son and her husband and wonder what would happen to them if she got sick like that. It made up for countless sleepless nights. Over the years, she had learnt not to let her profession seep into her personal life.
Ruth first saw Skylar walking down the corridor thanking all staff for their hard work with the patients. Judging by the faint lines on her face and her dressing sense, Skylar seemed to be in her mid-forties, closer to Ruth’s own age. Ruth thought it must be one of Skylar’s parents or in-laws admitted to the Home, though she couldn’t discount Skylar’s spouse being admitted due to an early onset of dementia. It was very rare to get early dementia patients admitted though. Most often these patients were looked after at home for as long as they could still carry the daily activities without assistance. Since they are mostly young enough to have the support of a healthy spouse or children who are still single and have yet to get tangled in their own domestic responsibilities, these patients were admitted only when they required intensive or hospice care, towards the end of their life. Which is why Ruth was surprised when a day later, she opened the file for her new patient, Skylar Brooks, and saw the photo of the same lady she had seen the day before.
Ruth found out that Skylar had early onset dementia and admitted herself as a resident. She had been a moderately successful author of children’s books before being diagnosed about 3 years ago. This enabled her to pay a year’s worth of fees in advance. Her legal executor had been appointed to settle the bills from her estate as her disease progressed. This much Ruth found out from Skylar over the course of next few months. But that was all. Skylar had a pleasant personality and got along with everyone. However she didn’t talk a lot about her personal life. She preferred listening to the nurses, other residents and carers. Perhaps, Ruth thought, it came with the profession. It made sense that writers spent more time listening to others’ stories than talking about their own.
Despite it being 3 years since the first symptoms showed, Skylar’s condition hadn’t been very bad when she was admitted. She had to get repeated instructions at times and sometimes did not seem to know how she got into the common room or what she was doing in the dining hall. However, these instances were not frequent. She was still able to carry on caring for herself and spent a lot of time reading. She was always ready to greet anyone with a smile, though it could not completely mask the haunted look in her eyes.
Ruth, perhaps drawn by their similar ages, could not help have a spot spot for Skyler and her gentle nature. Although she did not normally let herself get emotionally attached to the residents, something about Skylar gave Ruth a sense that they had been friends for a long time. Maybe under different circumstances, they could have become very good friends.
She often wondered why Ruth was admitted this early onto her disease. Skylar never talked about her disease, her friends or family, preferring to talk about lighter topics. Maybe, she had nobody to take care of her, in which case she might have deemed it safer to get professional care. But that didn’t seem likely. Skylar was an attractive woman, the type that couldn’t help but move the hearts of men, or women for that matter, around her. Maybe she did have someone, but they broke up when Skylar was diagnosed - as cruel as it was, Ruth had seen it happen. She had seen married couple break apart when a family member was admitted.
It was the latter, Ruth thought. Skylar had a box she kept in a cupboard in her room, hidden from plain sight but easily accessible when she needed it. She was very protective of it and never let anyone else touch it. At first, Ruth wondered if it could have something to do with her writing, but eventually that theory did not sound plausible. She might have been mistaken but she got the impression that Skylar opened the box every now and then, and her eyes looked unusually bright after each of those sessions, as though she had been crying. That is why Ruth thought it had something to do with an ex-lover or her family members. When you were on the verge of losing memories, not a lot of things can make you cry. You have no option but to be strong. Only something deeply hurtful could elicit that reaction on a regular basis. When Ruth had jokingly asked her if there were precious jewels kept in the box, Skylar had put on a mysterious smile and said that the box contained everything she had ever been. Ruth wasn’t sure what that meant or if Skylar was joking. But she knew Skylar was very serious when she expressed her desire for the box to never be opened by anybody else. She had actually put it in her will for the box to be buried with her.
Over the next 6 months, her condition deteriorated very quickly. She started forgetting things more often. She was lethargic all the time and preferred to stay in her room. She still tried to read books, but the ones she now read had more pictures than words. Yet it would sometimes take her hours to get through a few pages. She had her food at the dining hall, but she was assisted by the nurses to move around. Although she could still shower by herself, she had to be taken to the bathroom and back.
Ruth, who had come to consider Skylar like a sister, had asked the nursing home management to be removed from her care. She felt that she was too invested in Skylar's well-being for her to be able to act professionally around her. Instead, she visited Skylar everyday during her breaks in the capacity of a friend. Although her condition was worsening and it was getting rarer to find get lucid, Skylar seemed to come to herself a bit more when Ruth was around. Following Skylar's earlier example of keeping conversations away from the distressing topic of her health, Ruth talked about other stuff happening in her life. She talked about new movies, her husband and her son or news items that made her feel good about the world. Sometimes she talked about her problems, hoping it would distract Skylar from brooding on her own grim future. And maybe it was her personality, or the disease taking its effect, but Skylar always looked like she listened to every story with great interest.
On one such visit, Ruth had found Skylar more lucid than usual. She looked almost back to her old self and keen to hear what was happening in Ruth's life. Ruth had been having arguments with her husband. Both of them worked different shifts, which meant they both got to spend some time with their son but barely any time together. During the brief time they had together, they were too tired to spend a quality time. Just that morning, her husband had brought up the suggestion that Ruth work part-time. Since he made enough to support the family and her job was more stressful, it seemed to be a logical suggestion. He hadn't asked her to give up her job altogether, but just reduce her working hours slightly so she could continue doing what she liked, while the family could still spend time together. Ruth hadn't stopped to see the logic in the suggestion at all but flown into a rage. All she could hear was her husband asking her to give up what she liked doing. Why was she expected to give up her job? Why couldn't he do the same? Did he expect her to sacrifice her happiness to be with him?
She was huffing with indignation as she blurted these out to Skylar, who said nothing while Ruth told her tale. When she was done, Skylar sighed and asked Ruth to hand her the box from the cupboard. Ruth was shocked. Skylar had always been adamant that nobody was to touch the box. She looked at Skylar again, seeking validation to what she thought she had heard. Skylar repeated her request again, in a clear voice, leaving no doubt that she knew what she was saying. When Ruth handed her the box, she opened it and took out a folded parchment. She gave it to Ruth, saying that she did not have enough energy to read it out aloud herself and asked Ruth to do it for her. Never in her wildest dream had Ruth imagined that she would be asked this favor from Skylar. With trembling fingers, she unfolded the paper. It was a letter, written in pink stationary paper with a small painting of two lovebirds sitting on a tree branch at the lower-right side of the paper.
"An open letter to the one who loves me" the heading said.
