Yesterday was a major highlight of my life since I have been incarcerated in the nursing home. I got out for a major event - my granddaughter's wedding.  And it was sensational.  The bride was a vision in white in a gown with a long train. My great grandkids were the ring bearers and flower girl.

 

The featured food was roast pig - a specialty of Uncle Al Dick. He was up at 4 AM getting things going.   The electric warmers blew out the electrical circuits four times, but everything ended well.  The pig was sensational!

 

It was a joy to be able to smooze with friends and church members who have shared in communication with me. In fact, it was like rejoing the human race. And what better occasion than the joining of two attractive, personable young people in life's big adventure - marriage.

 

Hundreds of pictures were taken.  You willl be seeing them here soon.

Around this nursing home, you hear in the dining room, you hear it in the hallways you hear it come out of the rooms of the residents:

 

"I want to go home!!!"

 

 Well, it doesn' take long for the pure sameness of life here to drive one to terminal boredom. And, yes, I do want to go home.  Yesterday the MD came in to visit me - the first time since I have been in Heritage Manor. He says the body situation looks OK and I can go home when the therpists think I will be able to handle things without s support staff. So, now I have laid it on Noel the chief physical therapist here.  He has worked wonders with me and I now see an immediate future at home.  Maybe a week.  Or two weeks.. Anyway, homecoming is in sight.

 

You can bet that continual updates will be coming from here.

Yesterday,  I was in the bathroom, sitting  on the throne ,  patiently awaiting some action, when to door to my room opened and a frizzled grey head poked in and took a good look at me. I identified her as one of the nonsense babblers from down the hall. She then ducked  out and closed the door.

 

Later that day, I was working at my computer when I had the feeling someone was in the room behind me. I turned around to find that this same person, who, believe me, could be cast as the Wicked Witch of the West, was making herself at home in my room.

 

"This is not your room!" I yelled at her. (You have to yelll at people around here to be heard.) She replied with some gobbleldegook no

one could understand, so I pointed to the door and said - "Your room is down there."

 

Blank look  - and more gobbledegook.

 

now what do I do to get her out of here?

 

I wheeled my  chair to confront her and pointed out the door.  Then I got my chair so close she could not enter the room further.   At this point she gave up and left.

 

Just another littlle vignette from Life In The Nursing Home.

Three time a day, there is a reason to to go someplace and commune with others.  This is meal time in the main dining room. Residents are allowed to join whoever they wish at a table. In actual practice newbies are seated acccording to the whims of the dining room staff. I was fortunate to be seated with a group or 6 or 7 who have a table in a sunroom type alcove of the West. dining room. My dining mates, with one exception are all women.  Ages range from 96 down to 82.

 

Needless to say, there are major hearing problems with this group.  Everything gets said loudly and more than once. One person is blind - another is totally deaf. Neverthless we have sense of community among us and the social interaction here represents a change from being in ones' room.

 

The most common bitching is about the slownesss of the arrival of food.  So, there is a lot of craning necks to see if other tables are being served before ours.  Doesn't seem to matter if one arrives at the table early or halfway through the meal.  Food will arrive when it arrives. And there is never enough coffee because it has to be brought by a waiter. I don't understand why they don't leave a coffee pot on the table.

 

Ordering of food can be an experience full of surprises.  For example, I always start breakfast with oatmeal. The servers include some people from Congo who speak a strange kind of English. So, one morning I get bacon and eggs instead of my oatmeal.  Bacon and eggs would normally be the second course.  I asked where my oatmeal was and got puzzled looks. So, I said "Forget it - my eggs and bacon will be cold by the time I finish oatmeal."  There was a conference of servers and they headed to the kitchen. Then they showed up with three bowls of oatmeal.

 

Go figure.

 

Well if all of this seems massively unexciting to you, wait until it is your turn to be in a nursing home.  Your focus on what is interesting will take a major U turn inthe road of life.

Let me tell, you this is a world of its own.  The buildings  here at Heritage Manor in Normal, IL are clean and attractive, the staff is extremely helpful and - yes, I can saying loving.

 

But the residents, as we are called, consider this to be their home and expect to live out the rest of their lives here. I an an exception -- one of the ten percent who are here for therapy to to get well - and go home.

 

When I first arrived my impression was that I was in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next. The recreational rooms were occupied by people, most of who were sleeping or marginally conscious. When I tried to start conversations with other residents most of them were non-responsive or who spoke the strange language they have in their heads. Add to this mix, the ones who continuously  make ugly nonsense sounds.

 

Many of them are unable to feed themselves and are assisted by the staff. I marvel at the paitience and consideration that the staff people provide to them.  There is a lot of hugging and sweet talk -  something that must be sadly missing from the lives of these residents.

 

There is a schedule of activities for those who are seeking diversion. Outside entertainers sometimes come in. I turned around from my computer the other day to see two full-dress clowns in my doorway.

 

I have found myself a group that I eat meals with.  We have a dining alcove of our own and have gotten to know when our fellow diners are ill. Meals are served on a trays in the rooms of those who prefer to eat there. The over-riding philosophy is that this should be as like home as possible.  That means, that there are snacks available as wanted. The nurses assistants help us get up in the morning and in bed at night.  They dispense pills four times a day. Also, they watch to see that people are eating as they should..

 

The highlight of my day is the therapy session which lasts an hour.  My therapy regime continues to be increasingly challenging.  I almost can't believe that I walked, pushing a walker, about a city block today. This is a guy who couldn't get himself out of bed two months ago.  I can't image how frustrated I would be to know I had to spend the rest of my life in this overly-protective environment.  But I have my goal - and you can be sure thatI willl be attending my granddaughter's wedding July 14.  How I look forward to it!.