She was crying, out of the blue, during the late morning on Thursday. I put my hand on her shoulder. "Is something specific wrong, or is this just a sadness wave?"
"It's a sadness wave."
"Ok, then. I'm sorry... and, it will pass."
Later it was time for Martha's shower, and that's always our time to talk deeply. I don't know why. David thinks the analogy of being "exposed and vulnerable" leads to her willingness to open up and talk.
An hour before her shower, I warm up a couple of tablespoons of coconut oil and massage it into Martha's scalp. At the start of her shower, I scrub her back with a hot, soapy washcloth, and wash her hair with medicated shampoo. Then she takes care of the rest of her shower, seated securely on a shower seat. I return to dry her off and help her out of the shower to get dressed. I blow dry her hair into her signature bob after applying lavender oil or herbal balm to the scaly patches on her head.
As she calls "Okayyyy", signalling her shower is done, I gather hot towels from the dryer. I put a hand towel on her head, a bath towel around her shoulders, and one wrapped around her front. All are hot and fluffy from the dryer. Then I massage her arthritic shoulders through the hot towel, and go about the drying process.
Thursday, after I put the hot hand towel on her hair, she sighed and said "Ohhh that's so good. When I recover enough to tell you why I was crying, you'll think I'm a nut."
"Too late" I said, rubbing her shoulders.