Hoocher and I made it back to the nursing home for the first time in weeks. I hate missing even one Tuesday because so much can change in that time. One week Mr. J. is walking around, the next he’s wheelchair bound. One day Mrs. K. recalls my winter vacation; seven days later she can’t remember my name. So it’s with a bit of trepidation that Hoocher and I head down the halls looking for our favorite residents.
Every body was looking good until we ran into Malina. Holy Mother of God. She’s never looked all that great – petite woman hunched over in a wheelchair – but today I was shocked to see her. Her eyes appeared to have sunk even deeper into the sockets than usual. Her skin looked like it barely covered her skeleton. Her bottom teeth stuck out of her mouth – small and yellow. Frankly, she looked like something one might uncover in a shallow grave. Her strength was undiminished though. She latched onto my arm and kept a tight grip. I was nose to nose with the living dead, getting spit on as she lamented about various things, real and imagined.
As uncomfortable as it was, I hated to break away. I hope if I’m ever in that condition, someone could spare fifteen minutes to listen to me and hold my hand.
When an aide came by, Malina reached for her and I took off. Hoocher and I decided it would be nice to spend some time with a functioning mind, so we went down to Erma’s room.
Erma is a big animal fan. She’s always watching Animal Planet when we visit, and she loves Hoocher. She can also remember my name from week to week which is a nice change from the other ninety percent of the residents who cannot. I remembered from our last chat that she was concerned about her blood pressure. I asked her how the battle was going, and in two minutes we went from high blood pressure to constipation, hard stools, and hemorrhoids.
Some days, you just can’t win.
Tomorrow is The Governor’s Early Childhood class where the parents will break off for “talk time” and discuss things like, oh, hard stools and constipation. If I’m lucky, I can probably steer the conversation to some other toddler issue, like vomiting or emergency room visits.
"If I’m lucky, I can probably steer the conversation to some other toddler issue, like vomiting or emergency room visits."
I would have thought exorcism would be a topical priority.
;-)
Posted by: aelfheld at April 27, 2005 12:55 PMWhen your child is the only one in need of such services...well, one hates to monopolize the conversation.
Posted by: Cathy at April 27, 2005 12:59 PMHeh. We could've used one here recently. My four-year-old has had a nasty cold and isn't eating much as a result. Hungry = uber-cranky for that kid. Yesterday I called my husband at 4:45 to ask when he was coming home from work. He said he was leaving at 5, and I told him there was the distinct possibilitly he would have only two children by the time he got here. Fortunately I didn't have to follow through.
If I knew the number of an exorcist, I'd have the guy on speed dial.
Posted by: Joan at April 28, 2005 10:57 PM