Just Let Me Lie In My Own Bed

I was sitting on mom’s comfortable nursing home bed last night when my father joined us by walking through the door in boisterous fashion. “I thought that was your car out there,” my father said as he took a seat and turned on the television tuning it to the local weather channel. He had just missed the part where I had to help my mother change her pull-up again. She moves so slow with her walker that she sometimes can’t get to the bathroom in time. I bagged up her soiled pajamas to take home to wash. “Johnny! I want out of here!” she told my father tersely raising up in the bed. “You have one more week then you are coming home,” my father told her. “I just want to get in my own bed so badly!” Dad had been through hell yesterday on his day off.  Someone with an Indian accent called saying he was from Microsoft and could fix his computer because they had detected it was running slow. Dad fell for it, gave them access to his computer, and then dad had to make a mad scramble to get his bank account number changed and the account protected. As Dad and I sat in the room, they brought supper in. It smelled heavenly.  Mom had salmon croquettes, cauliflower with a cream sauce, steamed cabbage, rice, and a piece of chocolate cake. Mom didn’t waste any time to start eating.  That was my father and my cue to head home. We would leave her and let her eat in peace.  I know she was hungry.
Source: The 4th Avenue Blues - Category: Mental Illness Authors: Source Type: blogs