Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Tonight’s Bingo session had all the elements of an Oscar-winning movie—except maybe the Hollywood happy ending.
Tragedy: I came down early for a pre-Bingo visit, but this time I didn’t head for Mike’s room. Instead, I turned down the hall to find Ken—and there he was, talking to Gary about finding new batteries for his wheelchair. I gave Ken a warm pat and a sincere sympathy card and asked how he was doing. He asked me to come to his room.
He showed me a photo in a pretty gold frame—taken the day Ken and Betty married. It’s beautiful, and it’s part of a collection of photos documenting their 23 years together. The frame had been obscuring part of Betty’s face, so he had someone adjust it. He needed to see all of her.
Ken opened my card and spent a long time reading it. He is a very sharp man—he has lots of word-game books around his room—so there’s no chance he was stuck on a big word. He was taking it in very carefully.
I asked Ken whether one of his kids had called to tell him of Betty’s death. But no—the way he learned was even more tragic.
“I called out to the nursing home Monday to talk to her,” Ken told me. “And they just said, ‘Oh, she passed away. She’s not with us anymore.’”
Ken shook his head sadly. I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped.
Ken shared that story with someone at the Soldiers Home, he said, who called the other nursing home to “give it to them.” Good for them.
Ken said he’s been doing better the last couple of days, but for the first two, he just lay in bed and looked at pictures of Betty. He was thankful he’d just been to see her.
“I was there for three hours,” he told me. “She couldn’t talk, but she took my hand as soon as I walked in, and she looked at me and held onto it the whole time.”
I told Ken his presence must have meant a lot to Betty. And I told him to hold onto the memory of that time together, to picture her hand over his.
He said he’d do that.
Crime: Ken cheered up talking about his last Bingo session. AA had run it—very generously—and Ken had won $26.
Ken had been saving money for those two new wheelchair batteries, and that jackpot had put him over the top. But the other morning, when he and his roommate came back from breakfast, he found his top locked drawer open—and his cash-filled wallet missing.
Ken said the Home is investigating, and police were called, but I was having trouble hearing him. Good Lord—who on Earth would steal from a disabled veteran in a Soldiers Home?
Drama: Dorothy had loaded the Bingo prize cart while I was with Ken, and at halftime, when I loaded the rest of the loot, Ken and a few other people gathered around the cart to scope out the prizes and plan their attack. Not only did I not think a thing of it, but I actually thought it was a good idea: Maybe a preview would speed up the selection process on Bingo deadline. (A couple sessions ago, when someone was taking forever to pick a prize, Wesley yelled: “Less shopping!”)
Wesley was taking a smoke break, so I left to push a tired Danny back to his room. When I came back, Dorothy and Ken were screaming at each other. Here’s what I heard: “I have been here for 14 years!” (Dorothy.) “You are 14 years old!” (Ken.)
As I’d left with Danny, Dorothy had voiced her concern to me about Ken “pawing all the prizes.” I said it was no big deal. Apparently she’d had time to think about it—and it had become a big dang deal.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I said. “I leave for one minute, and everything blows up?”
I told Ken I thought it was absolutely fine that he looked at the prize cart. And then I told Dorothy the same thing. I kind of had a hard time staying friendly about it. I simply could not believe Ken had to endure another stressor. I really, really hope they come in threes, and they are done.
Love triangles: Bill Crowell went to church instead of Bingo, but I saw him in the hallway and got a nice hug and kiss. And, naturally, a proposal. “Let’s face it,” Bill said. “I’m about to die, and you’re not getting any younger. I can have your husband Shanghaied so you can marry me.” Gotta hand it to Bill: He is persistent.
Comedy: Dorothy had loaded the top two shelves of the prize cart (I usually use only one), so when David Fox won, I pointed out that there were all sorts of surprises one level down. It was like he’d won the lottery. “Thank you for telling me!” he boomed in his big hard-of-hearing voice. “I’d never have noticed if you hadn’t told me, young lady.” He was so incredibly pleased, everyone laughed out loud—with him, not at him.
Stunts: Mike had hours and hours of new music to listen to, so he came and went at Bingo. I had stowed my purse and coat in a chair, so when I had time during Blackout to take a load off, I moved my coat to sit next to Mike. I thought I had plenty of room beside my purse, but I sat right on it. Mike didn’t say anything, so I thought maybe he hadn’t noticed. But when I looked more closely, I realized he was laughing too hard to speak. “Guess I’m a little wider than I thought,” I snickered.
Comebacks: Ken won the first Bingo right after The Prize-Cart Incident. When I wheeled the cart over to him, he said, more loudly than usual, "Well, I'd certainly better not touch anything." Bless his sweet heart.
I gave Ken a huge smile and another warm pat, and Mike walked me out to my car. We had made it through a night of high ups and low downs—maybe that’s a happy ending, after all.
Tonight’s Bingo session had all the elements of an Oscar-winning movie—except maybe the Hollywood happy ending.
Tragedy: I came down early for a pre-Bingo visit, but this time I didn’t head for Mike’s room. Instead, I turned down the hall to find Ken—and there he was, talking to Gary about finding new batteries for his wheelchair. I gave Ken a warm pat and a sincere sympathy card and asked how he was doing. He asked me to come to his room.
He showed me a photo in a pretty gold frame—taken the day Ken and Betty married. It’s beautiful, and it’s part of a collection of photos documenting their 23 years together. The frame had been obscuring part of Betty’s face, so he had someone adjust it. He needed to see all of her.
Ken opened my card and spent a long time reading it. He is a very sharp man—he has lots of word-game books around his room—so there’s no chance he was stuck on a big word. He was taking it in very carefully.
I asked Ken whether one of his kids had called to tell him of Betty’s death. But no—the way he learned was even more tragic.
“I called out to the nursing home Monday to talk to her,” Ken told me. “And they just said, ‘Oh, she passed away. She’s not with us anymore.’”
Ken shook his head sadly. I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped.
Ken shared that story with someone at the Soldiers Home, he said, who called the other nursing home to “give it to them.” Good for them.
Ken said he’s been doing better the last couple of days, but for the first two, he just lay in bed and looked at pictures of Betty. He was thankful he’d just been to see her.
“I was there for three hours,” he told me. “She couldn’t talk, but she took my hand as soon as I walked in, and she looked at me and held onto it the whole time.”
I told Ken his presence must have meant a lot to Betty. And I told him to hold onto the memory of that time together, to picture her hand over his.
He said he’d do that.
Crime: Ken cheered up talking about his last Bingo session. AA had run it—very generously—and Ken had won $26.
Ken had been saving money for those two new wheelchair batteries, and that jackpot had put him over the top. But the other morning, when he and his roommate came back from breakfast, he found his top locked drawer open—and his cash-filled wallet missing.
Ken said the Home is investigating, and police were called, but I was having trouble hearing him. Good Lord—who on Earth would steal from a disabled veteran in a Soldiers Home?
Drama: Dorothy had loaded the Bingo prize cart while I was with Ken, and at halftime, when I loaded the rest of the loot, Ken and a few other people gathered around the cart to scope out the prizes and plan their attack. Not only did I not think a thing of it, but I actually thought it was a good idea: Maybe a preview would speed up the selection process on Bingo deadline. (A couple sessions ago, when someone was taking forever to pick a prize, Wesley yelled: “Less shopping!”)
Wesley was taking a smoke break, so I left to push a tired Danny back to his room. When I came back, Dorothy and Ken were screaming at each other. Here’s what I heard: “I have been here for 14 years!” (Dorothy.) “You are 14 years old!” (Ken.)
As I’d left with Danny, Dorothy had voiced her concern to me about Ken “pawing all the prizes.” I said it was no big deal. Apparently she’d had time to think about it—and it had become a big dang deal.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I said. “I leave for one minute, and everything blows up?”
I told Ken I thought it was absolutely fine that he looked at the prize cart. And then I told Dorothy the same thing. I kind of had a hard time staying friendly about it. I simply could not believe Ken had to endure another stressor. I really, really hope they come in threes, and they are done.
Love triangles: Bill Crowell went to church instead of Bingo, but I saw him in the hallway and got a nice hug and kiss. And, naturally, a proposal. “Let’s face it,” Bill said. “I’m about to die, and you’re not getting any younger. I can have your husband Shanghaied so you can marry me.” Gotta hand it to Bill: He is persistent.
Comedy: Dorothy had loaded the top two shelves of the prize cart (I usually use only one), so when David Fox won, I pointed out that there were all sorts of surprises one level down. It was like he’d won the lottery. “Thank you for telling me!” he boomed in his big hard-of-hearing voice. “I’d never have noticed if you hadn’t told me, young lady.” He was so incredibly pleased, everyone laughed out loud—with him, not at him.
Stunts: Mike had hours and hours of new music to listen to, so he came and went at Bingo. I had stowed my purse and coat in a chair, so when I had time during Blackout to take a load off, I moved my coat to sit next to Mike. I thought I had plenty of room beside my purse, but I sat right on it. Mike didn’t say anything, so I thought maybe he hadn’t noticed. But when I looked more closely, I realized he was laughing too hard to speak. “Guess I’m a little wider than I thought,” I snickered.
Comebacks: Ken won the first Bingo right after The Prize-Cart Incident. When I wheeled the cart over to him, he said, more loudly than usual, "Well, I'd certainly better not touch anything." Bless his sweet heart.
I gave Ken a huge smile and another warm pat, and Mike walked me out to my car. We had made it through a night of high ups and low downs—maybe that’s a happy ending, after all.
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