Thursday, October 28, 2010
The Soldiers Home does holidays big: There are always seasonal centerpieces in the dining room, the walls and halls are always decorated and staff members really get into the spirit of things. Especially today. Today, Halloween had exploded all over the Soldiers Home.
Encouraging Halloween sighting: Big, new, colorful posters from the Graham-Kapowsin High School Key Club now hang on the walls of the Nursing Center. They all read, “Thank you for your Service” in one fall motif or another; even more encouraging, none of them said, “Thank you for you’re service.”
Not-so encouraging Halloween sighting: One of the staff members was dressed in, seriously, one of the scariest costumes I have ever seen. I’m not sure she was the official Grim Reaper, but her black hood and red eyes looked decidedly menacing. Mike said people had been screaming at the sight of her all day. I didn’t scream, but I’m pretty sure I gasped, and I know my heart started racing—and my heart has at least 30 years’ less mileage on it than most of the hearts in the Soldiers Home. Yikes.
Today was also the Halloween party in Chilson Hall. Mike didn’t feel well, though, so I couldn’t talk him into going. He said he’s been trying to quit smoking—which I’m sure is not easy on a body that’s bled nicotine for more than half a century.
We wandered down to the Activities Center for distraction (turns out “The Andy Griffith Show” is quite soothing), and Mike started to feel a little more like talking.
“In the back of my mind,” Mike told me, “I feel like I insult you every time I smoke.”
“Well, erase that from the back of your mind,” I said. “I know I give you crap about smoking, but that’s all it is. It’s the only thing I can give you crap about.”
Mike smiled, but he still didn’t look so hot. In the back of my mind, I felt a little twinge of fear.
He found a nurse, and some drugs, and then a comfy spot smack in the middle of his bed.
Mike held out his hand, and I took it. He was finally really relaxing, and he looked awfully cozy.
“Your hand feels much better,” I told him. “And you look better, too.”
“It’s because you were here,” he told me. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“I do,” I said. “You’d be outside right now, sucking down a nasty cigarette.”
Mike laughed a good Mike laugh, squeezed my hand and asked when I’d be back. I told him I’d be back Saturday—and I really hope Saturday is a little less scary.
The Soldiers Home does holidays big: There are always seasonal centerpieces in the dining room, the walls and halls are always decorated and staff members really get into the spirit of things. Especially today. Today, Halloween had exploded all over the Soldiers Home.
Encouraging Halloween sighting: Big, new, colorful posters from the Graham-Kapowsin High School Key Club now hang on the walls of the Nursing Center. They all read, “Thank you for your Service” in one fall motif or another; even more encouraging, none of them said, “Thank you for you’re service.”
Not-so encouraging Halloween sighting: One of the staff members was dressed in, seriously, one of the scariest costumes I have ever seen. I’m not sure she was the official Grim Reaper, but her black hood and red eyes looked decidedly menacing. Mike said people had been screaming at the sight of her all day. I didn’t scream, but I’m pretty sure I gasped, and I know my heart started racing—and my heart has at least 30 years’ less mileage on it than most of the hearts in the Soldiers Home. Yikes.
Today was also the Halloween party in Chilson Hall. Mike didn’t feel well, though, so I couldn’t talk him into going. He said he’s been trying to quit smoking—which I’m sure is not easy on a body that’s bled nicotine for more than half a century.
We wandered down to the Activities Center for distraction (turns out “The Andy Griffith Show” is quite soothing), and Mike started to feel a little more like talking.
“In the back of my mind,” Mike told me, “I feel like I insult you every time I smoke.”
“Well, erase that from the back of your mind,” I said. “I know I give you crap about smoking, but that’s all it is. It’s the only thing I can give you crap about.”
Mike smiled, but he still didn’t look so hot. In the back of my mind, I felt a little twinge of fear.
He found a nurse, and some drugs, and then a comfy spot smack in the middle of his bed.
Mike held out his hand, and I took it. He was finally really relaxing, and he looked awfully cozy.
“Your hand feels much better,” I told him. “And you look better, too.”
“It’s because you were here,” he told me. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“I do,” I said. “You’d be outside right now, sucking down a nasty cigarette.”
Mike laughed a good Mike laugh, squeezed my hand and asked when I’d be back. I told him I’d be back Saturday—and I really hope Saturday is a little less scary.
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