Friday, October 28, 2011
It’s been a flurry of Bingo activity (and emotions) lately, and when I walked in tonight and saw Greg the Bingo caller and Ann Lawson huddled over her official attendance sheet, my spidey sense tingled. Greg looked me right in the eye. “Ed Allen just died,” he said. They were looking for his name on the sheet—so they could cross it out.
I had talked to Ed quite a few times; he had given me a tour of his amazing houseplant collection, tiered all along his window, and he had smiled all the way through his thorough, specific description of their care. He was bright and funny, and I realized tonight I hadn’t seen him in a while. That happens a lot—always too late.
Greg started Bingo by asking for a moment of silence. I was surprised, but I nodded and smiled at Greg. It seemed like a very good idea.
There was another farewell looming: Gus the wonderful prize-cart pusher is moving to Lakewood, where he’ll have a job and a new home. He’s leaving Monday, so this was our last Bingo session together.
It turned out a very good thing that Gus and Doreen the volunteer were on Bingo duty: It was one of those nights when a lot of other things needed attention.
Doug came in briefly, then called me over to say he had a problem. I looked in the hallway for a nurse but didn’t see one, so I pushed Doug back to his room, where he pushed his call button.
Victor, meanwhile, was dozing in his wheelchair outside the Bingo room, and his stocking cap kept falling on the floor. Victor always wears a hat, and I didn’t want him waking up and leaving without it, so I went out a few times to tuck it into his chair. I have no idea how he dislodged it so often.
Billy won a challenging can of soda that he needed help with; Dick had a bum Bingo card and tried to switch midgame; Faith had written me a note asking who had died; and Ray McDade proudly showed me his new, new Bingo card, now without the stabbing staples.
At one point a literally spine-tingling scream reached all the way into the Bingo room. I was at Dorothy’s table. “Please tell me that’s a Halloween scream,” I said. It wasn’t. “It’s an old lady,” Dorothy said. “I pray God will take her.”
I shivered. All of a sudden I found myself patting a lot of residents’ shoulders or letting my hand linger on theirs as I took their cards. Gus almost always gives the winners’ backs a gentle rub—it’s very sweet, and tonight I found even this simple touch very comforting.
After Bingo, I asked Gus for more. “Can I give you a hug goodbye?” I said. He didn’t answer. He just stepped right up and swallowed me in a big bear hug.
“Wow,” I said. “You’re a good hugger.”
Gus smiled. He was tired. I thanked him for all his help, wished him luck and told him I'd miss him. He grabbed his hat and headed for the door. I’m glad I got to say goodbye.
It’s been a flurry of Bingo activity (and emotions) lately, and when I walked in tonight and saw Greg the Bingo caller and Ann Lawson huddled over her official attendance sheet, my spidey sense tingled. Greg looked me right in the eye. “Ed Allen just died,” he said. They were looking for his name on the sheet—so they could cross it out.
I had talked to Ed quite a few times; he had given me a tour of his amazing houseplant collection, tiered all along his window, and he had smiled all the way through his thorough, specific description of their care. He was bright and funny, and I realized tonight I hadn’t seen him in a while. That happens a lot—always too late.
Greg started Bingo by asking for a moment of silence. I was surprised, but I nodded and smiled at Greg. It seemed like a very good idea.
There was another farewell looming: Gus the wonderful prize-cart pusher is moving to Lakewood, where he’ll have a job and a new home. He’s leaving Monday, so this was our last Bingo session together.
It turned out a very good thing that Gus and Doreen the volunteer were on Bingo duty: It was one of those nights when a lot of other things needed attention.
Doug came in briefly, then called me over to say he had a problem. I looked in the hallway for a nurse but didn’t see one, so I pushed Doug back to his room, where he pushed his call button.
Victor, meanwhile, was dozing in his wheelchair outside the Bingo room, and his stocking cap kept falling on the floor. Victor always wears a hat, and I didn’t want him waking up and leaving without it, so I went out a few times to tuck it into his chair. I have no idea how he dislodged it so often.
Billy won a challenging can of soda that he needed help with; Dick had a bum Bingo card and tried to switch midgame; Faith had written me a note asking who had died; and Ray McDade proudly showed me his new, new Bingo card, now without the stabbing staples.
At one point a literally spine-tingling scream reached all the way into the Bingo room. I was at Dorothy’s table. “Please tell me that’s a Halloween scream,” I said. It wasn’t. “It’s an old lady,” Dorothy said. “I pray God will take her.”
I shivered. All of a sudden I found myself patting a lot of residents’ shoulders or letting my hand linger on theirs as I took their cards. Gus almost always gives the winners’ backs a gentle rub—it’s very sweet, and tonight I found even this simple touch very comforting.
After Bingo, I asked Gus for more. “Can I give you a hug goodbye?” I said. He didn’t answer. He just stepped right up and swallowed me in a big bear hug.
“Wow,” I said. “You’re a good hugger.”
Gus smiled. He was tired. I thanked him for all his help, wished him luck and told him I'd miss him. He grabbed his hat and headed for the door. I’m glad I got to say goodbye.
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