November 21, 2009
Every once in a while, a visit to the Home just feels off. It happened once when I had brought dinner for Mike, and he just kept dozing off. At first I thought he’d had a stroke, but then he would wake up and mumble something—and fallright back to sleep. (Mike often sleeps with his eyes open, which is not only incredibly unnerving, but also very confusing: I’ll start to talk to him, and it’ll take me a minute or two to figure out he’s out like a light.)
Anyway, last night was one of those nights. Again, I had brought dinner for Mike. And he had just eaten his own dinner (totally my fault, I know). But he made himself eat a little more, and then got so tired he was conking out sitting up. I left him to take a nap, and we agreed I’d wake him for Bingo at 6.45.
I thought I’d work on the jigsaw puzzle in the Activity Center for a while, but I got sidetracked by another resident who’d wanted to talk. Eventually, I went back to wake Mike—who was sitting on his bed, looking all alert and ready to roll… except he was totally sound asleep.
I patted him on the knee and announced it was Bingo time. He popped awake and said he’d be right down. So I headed down, and damned if there wasn’t another gaggle of helpful Scouts—girls this time—taking over the Bingo game. Argh.
I told Gary I felt really unnecessary, but actually I was feeling a little bitter. Twice I had busted my considerable butt to get down there for Bingo, thinking They Needed Me, and twice two other groups had shown up unannounced to render me irrelevant. But Bingo must go on.
Mike came in, and I sat with him. The girls were taking forever to certify the Bingos, and Mike was irritated that they were hanging around Wesley, wonking up the works. Mike won just one game, then said he didn’t feel well. (He really was crankier than usual.) I told him he’d had a lot of food, and his stomach was probably in shock—plus, I’d woken him from a sound sleep, and I figured he was probably still a little disoriented from that.
He wanted to leave, so I walked him back to his room. Mike started to feel better pretty quickly, and we watched "Deep Blue Sea," possibly the stupidest movie ever made about brain-altered sharks (and I’m sure there have been dozens). At about 8:30 I was starting to droop, and said I’d better hit the road. Mike asked me to stay, so I did, till the last shark was blown out of the water by an explosive harpoon.
So my dinner idea fizzled. My puzzle plan imploded. My Bingo duties were hijacked. And I was tired as hell. But I had sat with a friend when he needed a friend, so maybe what I wanted (me, me, me) wasn’t exactly what I needed, anyway --or what anyone else needed.
Every once in a while, a visit to the Home just feels off. It happened once when I had brought dinner for Mike, and he just kept dozing off. At first I thought he’d had a stroke, but then he would wake up and mumble something—and fallright back to sleep. (Mike often sleeps with his eyes open, which is not only incredibly unnerving, but also very confusing: I’ll start to talk to him, and it’ll take me a minute or two to figure out he’s out like a light.)
Anyway, last night was one of those nights. Again, I had brought dinner for Mike. And he had just eaten his own dinner (totally my fault, I know). But he made himself eat a little more, and then got so tired he was conking out sitting up. I left him to take a nap, and we agreed I’d wake him for Bingo at 6.45.
I thought I’d work on the jigsaw puzzle in the Activity Center for a while, but I got sidetracked by another resident who’d wanted to talk. Eventually, I went back to wake Mike—who was sitting on his bed, looking all alert and ready to roll… except he was totally sound asleep.
I patted him on the knee and announced it was Bingo time. He popped awake and said he’d be right down. So I headed down, and damned if there wasn’t another gaggle of helpful Scouts—girls this time—taking over the Bingo game. Argh.
I told Gary I felt really unnecessary, but actually I was feeling a little bitter. Twice I had busted my considerable butt to get down there for Bingo, thinking They Needed Me, and twice two other groups had shown up unannounced to render me irrelevant. But Bingo must go on.
Mike came in, and I sat with him. The girls were taking forever to certify the Bingos, and Mike was irritated that they were hanging around Wesley, wonking up the works. Mike won just one game, then said he didn’t feel well. (He really was crankier than usual.) I told him he’d had a lot of food, and his stomach was probably in shock—plus, I’d woken him from a sound sleep, and I figured he was probably still a little disoriented from that.
He wanted to leave, so I walked him back to his room. Mike started to feel better pretty quickly, and we watched "Deep Blue Sea," possibly the stupidest movie ever made about brain-altered sharks (and I’m sure there have been dozens). At about 8:30 I was starting to droop, and said I’d better hit the road. Mike asked me to stay, so I did, till the last shark was blown out of the water by an explosive harpoon.
So my dinner idea fizzled. My puzzle plan imploded. My Bingo duties were hijacked. And I was tired as hell. But I had sat with a friend when he needed a friend, so maybe what I wanted (me, me, me) wasn’t exactly what I needed, anyway --or what anyone else needed.
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