RANDOM REFLECTIONS: Nursing Home Visit
I was walking down the long hall at my mother’s nursing home when I heard a bright cheery “Hi!” behind me. I turned and saw a woman in her 90s rolling toward me in her wheelchair with a big smile on her face.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m heading down this hallway.”
“Let’s go!” she said. “What’s your name? Mine’s Paul.” “Leti. Leticia. Take me with you.” (Hmm, I think she liked me.)
“I’m going to visit my mother. We’ll be coming back this way to go outside to the orchard and I’ll introduce you. See you soon.” I continued down the hall then took a left into Mom’s room.
“Hi,” I said. Mom had dozed off in her wheelchair with a book in her hands and MSNBC on the tube. “I just met someone here.”
“A visitor?” she said. “No.” “Someone who works here?” “No, a resident named Leticia. I think she escaped from the Memory Unit, maybe we can take her outside with us?”
“No.” “No? No share-zies? Well, are you ready to go?” I started wheeling her out as Leticia rolled in. “Hi Leticia.” She wheeled back out, grumbling and mumbling.
“That’s the woman I met. I wonder how she found us?”
“Maybe she heard your voice.” Out in the garden, we found a spot with sun for her and shade for me; blackbirds and seagulls hovered around the low roofs.
“I’m making a list of what I like and what I hate,” I said. “I like food, weed, wine, scones, writing, conversation, following politics, watching sports, reading good books and dancing. I hate to shop, cook, clean, do laundry and limp around on this bad hip. I might be depressed. It’s kind of depressing coming here every day.”
“How do you think I feel?” she said.
“About 10 times worse.” “Don’t look at your watch. That’s rude.”
“Everyone’s having fun but me. Kate, John and Jessie (my sisters and brother-in-law) are all at Lark music camp and I’m just limping around. I think I have to get serious about the hip replacement. Do you think I’ll be able to dance for another 10 years if I get the operation?”
“Yeah, probably.” “I might not come tomorrow.” “Well, it’s a long day if no one visits.”
“Does Kate come every day?” “If she can’t then John usually comes,” she said. “It might be a little boring for him at first but then the conversation gets going.”
I wheeled her back to her room. “Well, I hope Leticia doesn’t come back and smother you in your sleep,” I said.
Paul Modic lives and writes in Garberville. Email: hillmuffin@gmail.com.
