The girl was wearing a nursing ho uniform, appearing just over twenty years old, but her deanor was calm and gentle.
"Are you Evelyn Clayton, Miss Clayton?" the girl greeted, "Hello, I’m Yvonne Warren, the caretaker for Mr. Yang."
Evelyn Clayton shook hands with her and greeted, "How is Mr. Yang doing?"
Yvonne led Evelyn into the inpatient section of the nursing ho through the side door and sighed in response, "For the elderly living here permanently, their condition doesn’t improve much. Though Mr. Yang has Alzheir’s, he can still manage his daily life, and his emotional state is quite stable."
Evelyn felt a pang of discomfort in her heart and nodded gently, without speaking further.
Taking the elevator to the third floor, Yvonne led Evelyn to the innermost room and gently knocked on the door.
For so reason, Evelyn felt inexplicably anxious.
Soon, a gentle, elderly voice ca from within the room: "Co in."
Evelyn instinctively felt puzzled.
Was it Mr. Yang, the old officer speaking?
Why did it feel as if he wasn’t sick, but rather like a normal elder resting here?
Yet, upon entering, seeing the person, the sourness in Evelyn’s heart surged unexpectedly.
By the window in the room sat an elder well past sixty, his silver hair made him appear very frail, and his cloudy eyes carried a trace of a smile, but that smile seed sowhat vacant.
The hand that held the cane was also trembling slightly.
Evelyn stared subtly at the elder before her, trying to blend this aged face with her mory, only to find scarcely any resemblance left.
Indeed, before her was Mr. Yang, the old officer.
"Grandpa Yang, soone has co to see you!" Yvonne’s tone was nurturing, like coaxing a child as she went to assist him, "Have you relieved yourself today? I’ll help you to the bathroom."
Mr. Yang nodded with a smile, perhaps not fully understanding, but he stood up, assisted by Yvonne.
As he walked past Evelyn, he suddenly paused.
"You, you..." The elder’s speech beca slightly indistinct, staring fixedly at Evelyn, the smile in his eyes vanished, "You are, are—"
Evelyn’s throat felt sore and painful, nearly unable to speak.
She hesitated for a mont before softly saying, "Uncle Yang, it’s , do you still recognize ?"
Evelyn dared not ntion her own na.
She had read pathological reports about Alzheir’s.
Elders with this illness can be trapped in a single mory, recognizing only specific scenes and certain people, as if that mory beca an anchor, trapping them in a cycle impossible to escape.
Evelyn feared she herself was such an anchor.
She was afraid of unsettling Mr. Yang.
"You, you are..."
Mr. Yang continued to shakily point at Evelyn, his eyes fluctuating between clarity and confusion, evidently trying desperately to rember but failing.
Evelyn dared not look any longer, so she said, "Nurse Wang..."
Yvonne also snapped back to reality and hurried to console Mr. Yang, "Grandpa Yang, let’s go to the bathroom!"
After escorting Mr. Yang into the restroom, Evelyn finally felt a slight relief.
The situation was worse than she imagined, making it even harder for her to accept.
The once proud head of the investigations squad had beco like this...
Could there be so reason connected to her for all this?
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