Bess and the New Leg (Foot-Actually)

Bess missed dinner because her new foot was too tight.

Who knew? Bess has a fony-foot? An erstaz peg?

Her daughter brought her the shame gam and when she put it on, it fit and was lovely. But when she went to take it off, it wouldn't come off. So Bess and her leg had to go to the doctors and see what gave with the gait. Turned out the 'take off' button was set too tight. All fixed.

But Bess had missed dinner. "No problem; I'll bring it up."

Bess was thrilled to have dinner delivered, a foot that worked and a little attention paid. It's great to know that I can still thrill 'em.

Lost: the Bank Statement

Pete may have lost his bank statement.

"Did you call the bank?"

"It's too late; they're closed."

"Did you go up to the bank and look for it on the sidewalk?"

"I had a couple of cups of wine before I discovered I lost it."

Now, at Pete's table is Stu. Stu used to be a banker. It is Stu's considered opinion that no one can get into Pete's account with the bank statement. Of course, Stu knew every single one of his customers by name and he doesn't understand that the new teller on the hill wouldn't know Pete if he bit him unless he ran his DNA.

A Trip to the Drugstore

I was sitting at the dinner table when one of my favorite residents asked the woman opposite of him at the table 'if she planned on becoming sick, any time soon?'

"What the hell is this about?" I asked kindly (me and this favorite kid around all the time).

"Walgreen's says that they will fill a printer cartridge for a computer printer for $10."

"And this makes it all clear how, exactly?" I asked at a slightly increased decibel.

"Mavis here gets her prescriptions from Walgreen's and if she is going to get sick and going down there anyway, I thought maybe she could find out about this printer thingie for me."

"Or you could call!" I suggested at the top of my voice with accompanying threatenting gestures.

"Well, I thought that if she could find out for me...."

"Give me the damn cartridge and I'll take it down to Walgreen's and get it exchanged." I offered as I moved over and took his napkin, formed a gag and wrapped it around his mouth, helpfully.

"But what if its over ten dollars? I need to be sure."

"Then you get back an empty cartridge, you old dummy."

(What I loved was, during this entire exchange, Mavis appeared not only ready to go to Walgreen's but was semingly weighing her sickness quotient and about to announce her 'nearness-to-sickness' possibilties. She was amused but ready to help, if possible.)

I followed him up to his room, got the cartridge and miracles of miracles, got the exchange for ten dollars.

He paid me the $10.90 and let me keep the dime. Nice guy, he is.

Kate and Paul

New Pointe has two new residents--or really, two have returned: Kate and Paul. They lived here a couple of years ago, moved out and now they are back.

They are horrible. 'Horrible' as in, 'Hard to describe how horrible'. They complain constantly. Ask for all kinds of extra help and complain, complain and complain. Most of the time that I see them, they are talking to the help and administrators--complaining.

And they don't like each other. I overheard this gem between them the other night:

"Shit. Get out of the way." Paul was rolling down the hallway with his wheeled-walker.

"Damn it, you rolled over my foot, you shit."

"Well, you keep your foot out in the way."

"Shit. I did not."

Love: it's a wonderful thing.

The scary thing is someone told me that 'they used to be worse when they were here a couple of years ago.' I can't even imagine.

Sheila

Sheila is a marvelous old woman that rolls up and down the halls with her wheeled-walker like a benevolent cop on the beat. She passes judgement --mostly favorable--on everyone she meets and if she must be negative she bends as far forward as she is able and whispers that perhaps someone should have a better attitude or maybe they should get over the loss of a loved one. Then she purses her lips and hums a sighing sound that indicates that she has spoken all that she has to say on that subject.

At dinner she announced to the table that her children worry about her but she doesn't want them to worry, "So I lie. 'No, I haven't fallen down all week. Yes, I have a good appetite and eat most everything on my plate. Yes, I take a long walk every day if the weather is good.' I lie, and they feel better and it hurts nothing."

She steered her wheeled-walker towards the elevator. You could fold her up and put her in your pocket, if you were of the mind to.