nursing home; it has to say that because you could never tell
by looking. Actually life doesn't go on here; waiting
does. We're waiting to get better so we can leave for a
more pleasant home, or we're waiting to die, but we're not
living. I walk and walk, my roommate sleeps and sleeps, I meet other patients
in the hall who talk and talk or grind their teeth - and then of course
I meet people who work here, friendly and cheerful though one of them
must be the one who took the cord to my phone. Outside,
deer come down the hill sometimes to nibble what lower leaves they can
find or to taste the impatiens (apparently
it is not tasty). The occupational
therapist is trying to teach me a little
tai chi, though I could better teach her - she showed me the opening
movements (arouse the chi, sink the chi) but without knowing their
names so had me repeat them six times each - or was it 10? I told her
what we were doing and that it needed doing only once so she said
she would get a book. That's not
what I call life; I suppose though as I haven't died yet I must be still
living so perhaps that's what they mean - "Cheer up, we're not dead yet."
Whatever it is it does seem to go on and on and on. Once
in a while my friend Sandie comes by with her husband and her
miraculous son and they take me out for lunch and we
talk and talk. That's life & worth
waiting for.
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