Scenes from an Undisclosed Nursing Home: Post 2

I was going to the cafeteria to get Mom some straws when I saw her. There weren't very many people in the halls because it was about dinner time and most of the residents were sitting at their tables waiting to get served their evening meals.

She was sitting by the nurses station, there was no one else around except one other wheelchair bound resident coming up from another hall.

"Can I help you? It's just about dinner time, can I take you to the dining room?" I asked her.

She looked at me, her eyes were full of tears behind her glasses, "I'm waiting for my husband, he's supposed to come...I hope he comes." She said.

"I hope he comes too." I told her and she thanked me.

Later, when I was returning from picking up Mom's dinner tray to take it to her room, the crying lady was talking to one of the aides and she seemed to be comforting her.

I got Mom's tray to her, got one of my own and joined her for dinner in her room.

When I left the little lady was still waiting in the hall, close to the nurse's station but she wasn't crying anymore.

She returned a smile.

Scenes from an Undisclosed Nursing Home: Post 1*

She was one of the first residents I noticed when I put my Mom in a residential care facility (I still find it difficult to use the term NURSING HOME).

It was the hat. The bright rainbow colored hat. A furry hat. She just looked all the sass in that hat.

The first day we were there we arrived right at lunch time. They tried to seat my Mom at the same table with "Hattie." Hattie wanted no part of it. Mom just didn't belong there, Hattie said. She simply COULDN'T sit there. So, they ended up telling us we could eat in the recreation room that day and my opinion of Hattie was a bit unsettled after that.

But this day...this day, as I started down the hall to Mom's room, there was Hattie's familiar frame sitting in her wheelchair in the hall. I could hear her sobbing before I even started walking down that hall. The familiar rainbow colored hat was cocked to the side and she sobbed uncontrollably. One of the other residents was rolled up right beside Hattie and at first I thought she was trying to comfort her, but she wasn't, as usual she just wanted to go to her room so I took her there and returned to Hattie.

"Awww, what's the matter, honey?" I said as I put my hand on her shoulder.

At first she said ,"nothing," and cried the harder but I persisted and finally she answered:

"My son left, my son left," she cried but added, "...he'll be back, I know he'll be back."

Hattie knew her son had to leave, she knew he couldn't stay there forever but it broke her little heart when he left and she couldn't contain herself. She knew it was unreasonable to cry about it but she just couldn't help herself, she was devastated. Her beloved son had come to see her, her beloved son had to go and she knew he'd be back.

Those were the facts.

Knowing the facts didn't make it any easier for Hattie to accept.

*This is the first posting in an intended series of posts on "scenes from an undisclosed nursing home"