Dad is back from
rehab in his studio apartment, amidst 3 wheelchairs, 2 walkers, and many
cushions to relieve butt discomfort. No partridge in a pear tree. Other than
spilling hot soup on his lap, I am a model caretaker. Since chicken noodle broth
creates a mess, maintenance arrived to do a thorough cleaning of his recliner. An
unintended miracle for Hanukkah: his chair is now spotless! He is doing well, motivated
to do physical therapy, gaining back independence as much as possible.
I decided I
might as well capitalize on my visit by being creative. I’m writing an article
for a regional magazine about how seniors make decisions to move to retirement
villages, particularly how their adult children are involved. What better way
to get the scoop than interview Sid’s dining room buddies? I even got official permission
from management, since I explained I will use aliases. To my surprise, few residents
felt that their children had been beneficial but everyone really enjoyed making
up their own fake identities. My little spontaneous project was more popular
than the planned evening concert entertainment. Here are some names the ladies
desired in print: Hikey (requested by 102-year old Ida, of course), Suzie Q,
Katya, Goldie and Priscilla.
If you come
across my article in the future and want to try to crosswalk any names, I don’t
think the participants will mind. After all, they are my friends and like me, they
appreciate recognition.
