Massey and I went back to the rehab to visit the wife and fill up her bird feeder the other day. We filled her feeder before we even went inside so we could surprise her when we opened her blinds. We walked to her room and Massey noticed first. She said "Her name isn't on the door anymore." My heart dropped. We opened the door and sure enough her room was empty.
We went to the front desk and asked where she was? The lady seated at the desk said (much to my relief) "She has been moved over to the assisted living facility where her husband is."
We left...first stopping back outside to retrieve the block of bird feed we had installed in the feeder and then headed over to the assisted living facility.
It was a MUCH nicer place. There was a sign pointing to independent living and another pointing to personal care. We decided personal care must be where they were. We walked in and no one was at the desk so in usual Cotton fashion we just roamed around looking for our friends. Massey found their name on a door and we knocked. We knocked again. We could hear a TV but no one answered. The woman at the rehab facility told us she thought they had separate rooms for now, with her needing more medical attention. I really didn't want to open the door so we wandered back up the the still vacant front desk and leaned over the counter til we found a sticky note and pen. We wrote that we had come by to visit and would come back soon. We stuck it to their door and left.
I went into work today and opened. I got off around 2:30 and had to be back by 5:30. I called the assisted living place and asked if they had any dietary restrictions and could I bring them food? They said they weren't sure about her but he could have anything. The owner's son cooked the husband up some Nonna Bistecca, one of the his favorites and I headed over.
I knocked on the same door Massey had found the first time. After knocking harder the second time I heard "Come in" over the TV playing loud enough for Helen Keller to hear it.
I walked in and Walter was kicked back in a recliner watching television AND reading a book. Dang... he's over 92 and is still a multi tasker! Both his legs were wrapped in these huge blow up compression devices but he looked happy to see me, sitting there in his WWII Bomber shirt. I was impressed that he could read a book, suffering macular degeneration but noticed the book was in a font larger than a small billboard and his glasses made him look like his eyes were the size of golf balls.
He was happy to have someone visit so we chatted away, with hm never muting or even turning down the blaring volume on the TV set. We just sat and hollered at each other for half an hour. That's a man for ya. I put his food in the little refrigerator and he said he looked forward to having it for dinner. He can't see or hear well and has a hard time getting up or walking but the man is still sharp as a tack. He told me when his wife first went to the rehab...which was really a hospice, they gave her 2 months to live. He said she had stopped eating and lost so much weight she weighed just over ninety pounds. I only weigh 95 and know I'm too skinny but at least I'm not in a hospital bed and Depends. (yet)
She battled back though and started eating. She regained some strength and the doctors bumped her demise back to at least a year. Heck, if you are over ninety another year is like a decade to someone my age!
I went to leave and leaned over to kiss his cheek and hug him. He hollered back at me over the blaring TV, "Hey, don't get an old man all excited!" He gave me directions to his wife's room, which were spot on and I knocked on her door, hearing the TV on. She weakly called out to come in and the minute she saw me, muted the TV. (That's a woman for you)
She looks much better than last time I saw her and after telling her I brought her husband some food from the restaurant, asked her what she felt hungry for? I told her I was off all day on Sunday (which I'm not) and would love to bring her something. She said she would like a pizza with... and held up frail fingers in the shape of an "O."
I said "Pepperoni it is and I'll be here with it tomorrow!"
I'll never make it to ninety. With the stress I have in my life I'll be lucky to make it to 53. But what I CAN do...is hopefully secure myself a club level seat in Heaven by helping others while I'm still here. If I'm wrong about my final destination and go the other direction, I hope I rate a window seat....These hot flashes are already killing me.
Going by to drop her off a pizza tomorrow and fill the bird feeder. Working tomorrow night to try and catch up with my own life, bills and problems...which after today seem trivial. Both served in WWII, over ninety, still aware, lucky enough to be together.
Count your blessings people...name them one by one.
Til next time...COTTON
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