The Collected Works of Dorothy Tennov

Rhoda Halsey at Home

a short play about living in a nursing home.

by Dorothy Tennov
Introductions
Characters
Rhoda Halsey.................................................................. 84 ..................................Deceased mother of Mary Mary Bowers................................................................... late 50s ........................Rhodas daughter Ann Fletcher................................................................... 20s................................Rhodas granddaughter Ella Williams................................................................... age 86 ...........................Rhodas roommate The nurses aide ............................................................. age 25-60

Setting and Action

Living Manor Nursing Home in the room occupied by Ellen, and formerly also occupied by Rhoda. Mary, Rhodas mother, and Ann, her daughter and Rhodas granddaughter arrive to remove Rhodas belongings. Rhoda had died two days earlier.

A Scientist Looks at Romantic Love and Calls It Limerence:

To the far left under a soft light is the image of Rhoda Halsey in a wheelchair. She speaks her notes. Ella Williams, Rhodas roommate, speaks from her bed. To the right, Mary and Ann stand beside a bed off center to the right, with the foot at an angle. The bed contains Rhodas belongings. Except when Rhoda is speaking, the lights are on Mary and Ann. The two older women, Ella, the roommate, and Rhoda, remain on stage throughout, as do Mary and Ann. When she is not speaking, Rhoda Halsey sits motionless, head bowed, in her wheelchair. Ella sometimes struggles against her protective restrains. At other times, she is still, like Rhoda. Ann and Mary enter the room from Ellas side carrying two obviously empty suitcases. A nurses aide is stuffing clothes from the bed into a large plastic bag. At first, Mary and Anns attention is drawn to Ella, who speaks first.

ELLA My husband is coming to get me today. I will wear my pretty blue dress, the one I wore back then. Where did we go? Im coming, dear. (To an imaginary person:) Dont push me. Dont do it. Where is that woman? I didnt have anything to eat today. Wheres my blue dress? Wheres my green one? Come on lets go. AIDE (Continuing to put articles of clothing from the drawers of a dresser onto the bed.) Dont mind Ella. Shes okay. Sometimes she doesnt know where she is and at other times she seems almost normal, mostly when Rhoda was with her. Ellas been more difficult to manage today than usual. We do our best. MARY (Politely to Ella, ignoring the aide at first.) Hello, Mrs. Williams, how are you today? (To aide:) What are you doing? Are you throwing those things out? AIDE Oh no, its just that we have to clear the room and I didnt know youd be here. We always use these bags. ANN Garbage bags? MARY We came to get Mrs. Halseys things. Didnt they tell you? AIDE (Taking items of clothing from the bag and laying them on the bed.) Sorry, I was just told we need the room and to get it ready. If youre going to use those suitcases maybe you wont need the bags. ANN No, we wont need the trash bags for my grandmothers things. Mary I dont remember you. Are you new here?

The Collected Works of Dorothy Tennov

AIDE Ive been at Living Manor for two months, but I was in Section C until a week ago. MARY Did you take care of my mother? AIDE Rhoda? I mean Mrs. Halsey? Yes, a few times. (Pause) Do you need help? MARY No, dont worry about us. Well manage. AIDE Okay then, Ill come back later. (She remains in the room doing various tasks or caring for Ella.) ELLA (As if to Mary:) I heard that. I know who you are. (Shifting focus as if to someone in the room:) Who are they? When Harold comes, hell show you a thing or two. All of you. (Pointing at Mary first, then at Ann:) Thats where Rhoda lives, lived, lives, lived. (To the aide:) Can you take me . . . AIDE In a few minutes, Ella. Im going to help another resident but Ill be right back. Theres an activity this afternoon. (To Mary and Ann:) Just ignore her. (Starts to leave then stops to adjust Ellas bedclothes). ELLA . . . to the bathroom. AIDE You just went, Ella. Ill take you again in a little while. ANN (To Mary:) What are we going to do with these things? MARY Lets leave most of her clothing here. Maybe other residents can use her housecoats and slippers. There isnt much really. I think what we decide to take will fit in the two suitcases. AIDE (With some impatience:) I dont want to rush you, but we have someone waiting for the room. MARY Some of this is garbage. Some are things we cant use. Can the nursing home use her clothes for other residents? AIDE (Hurriedly) Wed appreciate it if youd take as much as you can, but, yes, we can use the clothes if you dont want them. And the bedroom slippers. But dont feel obliged. (She leaves.)

A Scientist Looks at Romantic Love and Calls It Limerence:

ANN (Looking at some slippers) I remember when we gave her these. She seemed appreciative but I dont think theyve ever been worn. How long was she at Living Manor? MARY Lets see. You were still in college. I guess it must have been seven years. This really isnt much accumulation for that long a period. (Pause as they each gather items and place them in two large suitcases brought for the purpose.) ANN Look here, mother, its her writing. MARY Lets see. (Reading) Here I am in Living Manor (The lights turn to Rhoda Halsey at stage right. Marys voice fades as Rhoda takes over. Ann and Mary sit on the bed looking as if reading the notes whenever Rhoda speaks.) RHODA Living Manor is where I live. The final repository of the aged and infirm and I am both of those by God. Life is here. Living is not here. Life stops here. Dying is next door this week, across the hall last week. Maybe someone from the long lost world outside these doors will come again to call. Maybe tomorrow. I never know. Maybe I dont always remember if theyre coming or whether they came. Sometimes when they come they bring offerings little nice things like candy and wool sweaters. And after they go I regard the gifts. Then I eat one of the candies greedily. I fold the new sweater and stuff it into the drawer. Or if my arm is having a hurting day I ask the one who comes in with my dinner tray to please to do it for me. Sometimes she will. Only two hours until dinner. I pick up another candy, but I put it down and think about how nice it was to see them. I want the candy to last. MARY I wish I could have come more often. There were always so many things to do. It was hard to get away. I came as much as I could. ANN I know, Mom. You did the best you could. (Pause) You did more than anyone else. RHODA At Christmas and on my birthday, they bring presents. MARY On Mothers Day, too. We tried to make it nice for her. RHODA Sometimes when my arm is okay I wheel myself down the long hall and peer into the other residents rooms as I go. Very slowly. In each room there is a woman sitting in a chair or lying on a bed. Or two women. They are never talking. The television is always on but they dont seem to be watching. The aides turn them on so they can follow the soap operas as they go from room to room. Sometimes I see a younger, temporary person in for rehabilitation. They watch. Or read. But most dont. I used to.

The Collected Works of Dorothy Tennov

MARY After she broke her hip, she needed more care than we could give. We thought at first she would be home in a few weeks. But then she had that heart attack and her arthritis became so bad that she couldnt walk. . . I was at work all day. I took her out every week, at first. Then, when Bill got sick, I couldnt do it alone. Sometimes I tried. It just got too hard. She never complained, just seemed glad to see us whenever we did come. RHODA I used to play Bridge. But theres no one here to play with. I dont like Bingo. I dont like to cut out paper hats. I dont like to make cardboard Easter bunnies. Maybe its okay for the ones who cant concentrate, but it drives me up a wall. Funny expression. Wish I could climb a wall. I like it a little better when Mister Mac comes in and plays songs I used to know. Some sing along, some hum. I think of the parties we had. Frank loved those old songs. He couldnt sing but he sang real loud. Usually, the nursing home volunteers play hymns. I didnt mind that at first, but weve sung The Old Rugged Cross and Onward Christian Soldiers ten thousand times. ANN Didnt Uncle Bill bring her a tape recorder with some songs on it? MARY Well, actually, he said he would, but I dont think he got to it. It was around the time he was involved with that bankruptcy scare. RHODA They put me here in Living Manor to protect me. It would do me good, they said. Living Manor indeed! What manner of living is this? My youngest daughter, Mary, lives here in this town. She comes as much as she can. Shes busy with a job and a sick husband. And little Ann . . . Little Ann is big Ann now. Little Ann and Frank are both gone. Frank died and Little Ann became Big Ann and moved to the city. Some of us are aware of how it really is here. The Poor Ones are not. Thats what I call them. The Poor Ones. Some are rich, were rich, anyway, have rich families. But here they are the poorest of the poor. Alzheimers kills the mind. Being here kills the mind. It robs mental capacities. They tell the same things over and over. And every day as long as theyre here they want to go home. We all want to go home. Some of us know all the time that there is no more home. Some of us only know it some of the time. Some never know. The lucky Poor Ones. When they visit, I try to act in the same old way, but I dont think I succeed. They try to look cheerful and interested but they dont succeed either. I try to think of interesting things to say but that distracted look they get means they arent really here even when they are sitting in my room. They dont hear. They dont listen to an old woman anymore. The wall of age and disfigurement has risen between us. Theyre on the other side. They no longer listen. Even so, I like it when they come. They put a small dent in the grinding monotony. I wish I felt I could make it pleasant for them so that theyd want to come back, but I dont know how to do that here in this place of sickness and dying. If I sound too grateful or try to get them to delay their departure, Ill make them feel guilty for not coming more frequently. Its hard for them. It would have been hard for me. This is not a pleasant place to visit despite the cheerful paintings on the walls and candelabra in the dining room.

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The Poor Ones smell. Im afraid I smell, too. Someone took my perfume long ago. How could they listen to an old womans prattle? ANN Did we listen? Mom, shes right. She knew. I didnt always listen. I was afraid she knew, but I didnt know what to do. She wanted to tell me everything about how it used to be. I wish I could have listened. MARY Dont blame yourself. You had your life to live. It was hard. She did repeat, you know. I know she didnt mean to do it. I didnt want to embarrass her by saying anything. RHODA About talking. The aides try. Some try more than others. Some try to be cheerful. They had to get their work done in time. Ten minutes to bathe before breakfast. They dont have time to do a good job. Sometimes the water is cold. I tried to imagine I am a baby being bathed by my mother, but the touch is brusque even when the tone of voice says shes trying to be what I need as much as Im trying to be what she needs to get finished in time. Its hard work. I know that. Its hard to do me. I try my best to cooperate. Its been diapers for quite a while now. They come in the night to see if I need to be changed. How much harder it must be to bathe and diaper a poor screaming, struggling Poor One. ANN I didnt know. MARY Neither did I. I guess she didnt want to tell us. I guess she wanted us to think of her the way she was. ANN When I was a child, grandma seemed like a glamorous person, always dressed in those beautifully tailored suits she used to wear and always coming from or going to an important meeting or to her classes. Teachers are pretty important people to children. MARY So are parents. When Uncle Bill and I were very little, Mother was always at home in the daytime but she was going to school at night so I remember her already sitting at her desk in the morning when we left for school. She didnt start teaching until we were in middle school. ANN And she carried on until I was in high school. I remember the big retirement party they gave her. MARY Yes, she was admired. One of her former students called a few years ago and wanted to visit. I dont know what happened. Mother didnt seem to want to talk about it. RHODA I can imagine the training the staff must receive. You can tell what it was from they way they act. They talk down. Some try very hard not to. I imagine the instructor saying, Residents deserve to be treated with respect. This, after all, is their home, and you must do your utmost at all times to remember that and to make them comfortable in this home.

The Collected Works of Dorothy Tennov

They act like thats what they were told in class and they do try. It comes out as baby talk. They shout as if they think you cant hear. What they are doing is trying to reach across the chasm that separates us . . . We both try in our way. But there is no bridge. MARY She once said to me that she really didnt like a 20-year old calling her Rhoda. She was always called Ms. Halsey by her students. But with time customs change. RHODA In the beginning I tried to complain, to explain in as dignified a manner as possible about certain problems, about privacy, about wanting to watch certain programs on TV, about getting prompt help in a bathroom emergency. Once I raised my voice. I think I may have shouted. After that one episode, things changed. I had acquired the reputation of being combative. I tried to apologize and told them I had asked repeatedly for help. They were busy. As soon as I can, Rhoda. I didnt forget you dear, as the aide breezed by. It was after I fell and hurt my hip. The tape on my bandage was binding painfully. ELLA . . . to the bathroom . . . MARY Mother wasnt one to raise her voice. A few years ago there was a meeting. They called it a care plan meeting. The social worker said something I didnt understand. She used that word. I said it was impossible, that that was not like my mother. My mother would not complain without good reason and she certainly wasnt combative! The head nurse said that families would be surprised at the acting out that goes on, that they often see quite a different person. Even the worst of them will sometimes act nice in front of family. I said that if she had had the supervision she needed she would not have fallen. They said she had a right to fall. ANN A right to fall? MARY (musing) Maybe she tried to tell me . . . I dont know. I guess she knew that. I never had Mothers gumption. I guess I just thought they knew what they were doing. They always said she was doing fine. except when there was some medical problem. (Suddenly sobbing) They meant she had a right not to be placed in restraint. I see now what I didnt understand then, or couldnt let myself believe. Its Catch-22. The patient has a right, but the staff is insufficient. RHODA Whats the worst thing about it? Is it the lack of privacy? At any moment of day or night someone might come in. What makes it most like a jail? I think its the roommate. Almost any roommate. (Aside from Lillian, of course.) Its the total isolation. Its having no one anymore, no one but these words on paper. No one to talk to.

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About talking. I tried when I first came, but its a giant pyramid, a ladder of castes. You cant talk across castes. The Poor Ones below cant hear. The aides just above are rushed, overworked, and wish they could be home with their children. Their interests are in another type of existence. When I was me, some of them might have been my students. Now the student washes my privates and helps me into my chair. I am not a teacher to her. I am a duty to perform. Part of that duty is to act cheerful and positive. They all do their best within their varying abilities, but life is hard for them. Surely they must sometimes envy we who are able to sit all day and be done to instead of doing. Martha has children at home who need her care. Louise has two jobs. How wonderful they are to try to treat us as human when their own lives leave so little room for joy and hope. We operate in the same space in different worlds not touching, not daring to touch for the wounds that would open. We speak and cooperate to get the job done, but we live apart. I only wish I could close the door against roommates and watch what I want to watch on TV. Ive had dozens, all different. The best roommates were too ill to do more than lie on their bed. They didnt care what I watched. If they were really sick, the aides came in often and I got better care for a while. But the roommates never lasted long. It wasnt that I disliked them as people. Some, maybe, but not most. It was just that they were always there and I could always feel their wishes and dislikes. And I felt so exposed to them and at the same time hidden. Except of course for the time with Lillian . . . MARY I really didnt know. The nurses seemed so friendly and interested. I didnt have a lot to do with many of the various roommates. I tried to be friendly and include them in our conversation. If I brought food, I always brought some for Mothers roommate. The staff seemed helpful and caring. ANN While you were around. RHODA The meals? Nutritious boredom. The others, the Poor Ones, the dribblers, the ones with the bibs that get fed like babies, they get everything cut up fine and liquidy. Luckily I can still get the food to my own mouth with my own hands and with my own knife and fork. Sometimes Poor Ones leave the dining room hungry because no one is able to take the time to help them. The silverware here is crude. Thats a laugh. Its not silver. I remember how Frank and I chose our flatware pattern after much discussion and deliberation. We used it for dinner parties. But count your blessings. The Poor Ones sit in wheelchairs all day long. The Poorest of the Poor are strapped in and call all day but who comes and whether they come depends on factors beyond their calling. One of my temporary roommates sat in her urine for six hours because she didnt know how to call for help. Some of the other Poor Ones get wheeled into the recreation room and sit all day before a TV set they dont see and dont understand. I used to watch sometimes but not anymore. Everything in the tube is so remote it has become meaningless. It is a world to which we Residents of Living Manor no longer belong, no longer understand. Sam Holden died this morning. Sam never talked to the Poor Ones. He didnt even talk to me. Sometimes hed yell at the aides as if he were the boss and they were workers under him. I heard the aides say he had been rich and important until they moved him in here. I asked about him but its a

The Collected Works of Dorothy Tennov

funny thing. Its not funny. Its a big part of the desolation of being a resident here, a patient, a thing to be dressed and repositioned and check your vitals, Deary, says a cheery voice in the morning. They talk the same way to everyone. Everyone is deary or honey. Or suddenly someone you never saw before, someone a half century or more younger than you, is calling you by your first name. Thats part of new ways, I guess. Maybe it isnt meant to be disrespectful. Its all first names. Hello, Rhoda, Im Joan. But one day the big one came in, the one with skinny heels and jewelry and a spotless suit, the one who shook hands but you knew shed wash hers first chance she got afterward. The big boss. They dont call her by her first name. She doesnt say Hello, Rhoda, Im Mary. She just says, Hello, Rhoda, how are you today? Is everything all right? Youre looking very nice today. Then shes off to the next one. I dont think she can tell the difference between a Poor One and someone like me. Maybe she doesnt want to tell the difference. Maybe there is no difference to her. Thats what I wanted to say. Even if youre not a poor, screaming, clothes-removing one, even if you know where you are and who you are, at least who you were, you cant hold a conversation. They breeze through, the important ones with the skinny heels. Theyre like a person running for public office. Big smile, but you know youre nothing. If you talk, they get glazed over. You learn to say, Fine, thank you. You learn to play the role of a Poor One even if really, secretly, youre not. Not yet. I think Sam was afraid of sinking to our depths. I think he preferred to die. Usually you dont see these things, but I caught a glimpse as they wheeled him out on a stretcher all covered. Two hours later, Joe moved into Sams room. It was as if there had never been a Sam. I had also seen Sam the day he came. Three sons in expensive business suits. So long, Dad. I never saw them again. But getting back to how you cant talk with them. Getting back to the pyramid. The big one is at the top and under her are the ones in the offices and the RNs. Under that come people with special jobs like housekeeping and kitchen. Then the nurses aides who do all the tending, the feeding and bathing and changing and bringing water and lifting people twice their size into the chair, and wheeling us to activity or to the dining room. Residents like me who dont give them any trouble come next. At the bottom are the Poor Ones. ELLA (Who had been quiet up to now begins to sing to the tune of I Remember You) I remember Sam. He liked green eggs and ham, oh yes, he did, that pig, that pigetty, pigetty pig. I loved him so. (She stops abruptly and closes her eyes as if sleeping.) RHODA At first I kept track of days. I thought I would be leaving. You cant believe that this is it. That takes a long time to dawn. Its when I go home. Then, later, its if I go home. Then one day . . . . ANN I thought grandma was a great reader. Didnt she have any books? Wouldnt that have helped?

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MARY She was. At first she did read. Uncle Bill used to send books from New York. Then one day I came in and found all her books packed in a box. She asked me to take them away. She couldnt read anymore. Cataracts. She had tried but it had got harder and harder and she just wasnt up to it anymore. There was no point in having them take up space. For a while she wrote letters. ANN What about tape recordings? Couldnt she have listened to books? MARY Uncle Bill sent Shakespeare and some music tapes. But her roommate at that time was a TV soap opera addict. The tape recorder couldnt compete. RHODA They feel like theyre doing a good thing for us when they bring dogs and cats in for us to stroke. What would be better is if theyd leave the animals here so we could really get friendly. I remember my sweet cat, Bertha. Bertha would sleep next to me on the chaise in the patio where we would be surrounded by plants and the sounds of birds. Neither of us moved for the longest time. Peace. Here its not peace. There is always sound. Poor Ones wailing down the hall, muffled TVs, the clattering of medication trays, or laughter late at night from the nurses station. The only sound you seldom hear is that of residents talking to one another. ANN I remember Bertha. We gave her away. MARY To the A.S.P.A. ANN Oh Mom! MARY She lost control. The house began to smell. There was nothing else to do. ANN Did you tell her? MARY We said Bertha got sick. RHODA Cant wait for lunch. Every day I eat food I never ate in life. Im getting smaller. Rhoda, we got to put some fat on you. Youre getting thin as a bone. Give me something that tastes good and Ill eat it. ANN Grandma was comical, told funny stories. I didnt realize until later that she had made them up.

The Collected Works of Dorothy Tennov

MARY Remember that book she wrote to cheer herself up, she said, after grandpa died? Nursery schools are still buying it. A check came last week. ANN Candy Dandy, Dandy Annie and the Buttressed and Benighted Blue Beastie! My four-year-olds used to adore it. Oh, Mom, (weeping) Grandma was my idol. She was special. MARY She loved you. ANN Then why didnt I come to see her? Why didnt I know what was happening to her? MARY Darling, you were away. You were busy. You lived in another city. You were having trouble with your relationship with Harry. We dont always realize whats important at the time it happens. I didnt. RHODA Before, when I was me, Id watch TV for occasional distraction. I thought the talk shows were interesting sometimes, but it was PBS documentaries that I really liked. Not the roommate, except Lillian. MARY One year she spent a lot of time out of her room. The next year she had Lillian. ANN I remember Lillian. She had also been a teacher. What happened? You never told me. I once asked grandma and she started to cry so I didnt pursue it. MARY Its just as well you didnt. ANN What happened? MARY They were talking one night from their beds. Lillian suddenly stopped. She had died in the middle their conversation. ANN Oh my God! Did grandma know? MARY Not at first. I think she must have gone on talking for a while and then she thought Lillian had gotten annoyed with her and that was why she stopped talking. It may have been hours before someone came in with breakfast. Apparently Mother was quite upset. They gave her some sort of tranquilizer and called me to come in. I dont know what really happened. All I know is what they told me. I never discussed it with Uncle Bill or anyone. It was just too terrible. Maybe that was what Mother never got over. There was a change in her. From their dates Id say these notes were written after Lillian.

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ANN Tragic, Mom. Oh, Mom, tragic. MARY Yes. Is that all she wrote? ELLA When you have to go the bathroom . . . . ANN Theres just a little more. RHODA They didnt come again today. I remember. Out there are many distractions, many calls on time, much to do and much to think of. Not like here. What is today? One day blends into the next. Dates mean nothing anymore. Theres nothing to do, no one to care for. Some of the women clutch dolls. I understand that. I would like to have one but I dont dare ask. They wouldnt understand. My reputation around here is bad enough. They get back at you when you need to go to the bathroom. Jenny cried when Miriam stole her doll. They didnt understand that, either. One did. But shes gone. AIDE (Entering suddenly) I hate to rush you, but we really need this room. ANN Its okay. Were finished. Arent we, Mom? MARY Yes. Were all though here. They can have the room. Goodbye, Mrs. Williams. ANN Goodbye, Mrs. Williams. (Mary and Ann leave carrying the suitcases.) ELLA (The spotlight turns to Ella who speaks almost inaudibly as the door closes behind Ann and Mary.) Dont go. Dont leave me here. (The lights dim and the curtain falls.)

The end.
Copyright 1995 Dorothy Tennov All Rights Reserved

F lowers by Dorothy Tennov

October 10, 2000

The Collected Works of Dorothy Tennov

Regarding Rhoda Halsey

Rhoda Halsey at Home was written to stimulate thought and discussion. Please read it. Use it in classes, perform it for relevant audiences, and, above all, contemplate the social, political, and economic issues it raises through its portrayal of experience of a mentally and socially competent person in a long time care facility. I read the first draft at the bedside of a hospitalized patient. Rhoda spoke for the world his illness had forced him to inhabit. Rhoda Halsey at Home was inspired by an article in Time magazine in which the voice of a nursing home resident very like Rhoda in many ways physically disabled, alone in her mental competence was transmitted through her son. Rhoda Halsey at Home, directed by Ferdi Perrone of the Second Street Players of Milton, Delaware, was performed several times in 1995 for audiences of nursing students, hospital and nursing home personnel, and members of the community. The production was cited as an outstanding new work at the Delaware Theater Associations 53rd Annual State Play Festival. Jean Savoy, who played Rhoda, was cited for her outstanding performance in a featured role. The implications are hard to take. It is more comfortable to ignore them until the ability to speak we may once have had is gone. The experience of the mentally incapable, the Poor Ones, as Rhoda called them, those who seem to exist only from moment to moment and whose complaints were inchoate, may consist only as scattered images of the larger context of their lives. It doesnt mean they do not feel the coolness of the bath water or the coldness of a touch.

Dorothy Tennov
Copyright 1999 Dorothy Tennov