September 12, 2009
Sometimes you forget just how little control some of these people have. You see them up and out, competing like champions at Bingo, or down at the pond fishing, and you think maybe this could be just a regular old active 55+ community.
But today—a gorgeous, warm, sunny, bonus September summer day—Mike is stuck in bed. A staffer had unplugged his wheelchair the night before, and its battery is nearly out of juice. He’d been at the pond earlier before he’d noticed the blinking red light. And Mike never lets his chair get to the blinking red light.
If his chair had died on him, he said, he’d have had to sit there until someone found him—and then asked for a tow. He would have been embarrassed, and anxious, and maybe worse.
On Thursday, he was stranded. He had laser eye surgery in Puyallup, and the home’s van had dropped off him and a nurse’s aide, then taken another resident into Tacoma for her appointments. Mike’s procedure was over in 20 minutes, though, and the van wasn't ready to come back yet. Luckily, the nurse’s aide had a cellphone, and could call for backup. But meanwhile, Mike sat in pain, pupils dilated to the size of CDs, at the mercy of someone else.
I think of Mike as a tough guy. He’s smart, and passionate, and purposeful. I hate the thought of his dependence, but probably not half as much as he does. And I’m grateful for the people who help him, but probably not half as much as he is.
Sometimes you forget just how little control some of these people have. You see them up and out, competing like champions at Bingo, or down at the pond fishing, and you think maybe this could be just a regular old active 55+ community.
But today—a gorgeous, warm, sunny, bonus September summer day—Mike is stuck in bed. A staffer had unplugged his wheelchair the night before, and its battery is nearly out of juice. He’d been at the pond earlier before he’d noticed the blinking red light. And Mike never lets his chair get to the blinking red light.
If his chair had died on him, he said, he’d have had to sit there until someone found him—and then asked for a tow. He would have been embarrassed, and anxious, and maybe worse.
On Thursday, he was stranded. He had laser eye surgery in Puyallup, and the home’s van had dropped off him and a nurse’s aide, then taken another resident into Tacoma for her appointments. Mike’s procedure was over in 20 minutes, though, and the van wasn't ready to come back yet. Luckily, the nurse’s aide had a cellphone, and could call for backup. But meanwhile, Mike sat in pain, pupils dilated to the size of CDs, at the mercy of someone else.
I think of Mike as a tough guy. He’s smart, and passionate, and purposeful. I hate the thought of his dependence, but probably not half as much as he does. And I’m grateful for the people who help him, but probably not half as much as he is.
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