I left my mother in her room to talk to the nurse. A television played in the distance.
“Will you take me to dinner please?” A sharp voice beckoned from a darkened room as I passed.
I continued on, glancing into the rooms.
“Will someone take me to dinner?!”
A black and white film was on the television, something with Gregory Peck, in the next room. A sign on the next door: Leave This Door Closed As You Have Been Told.
I found a young woman, in an elf green outfit, sorting papers on a cart at the end of the hall.
“I have a question about my mother.”
She looked startled, the papers lolling forward. “I’m not a nurse.”
“She had a fall this morning.”
“I’m the director of social programs.”
“Is the nurse around?”
“She will be here soon.”
I paused. “And there’s a woman that wants to be taken to dinner. She seems a little upset.”
“The nurse will be here soon.”
I went back, looking in briefly at Gregory Peck and then the frail legs in the bed, long and white, the rest of the body hidden by the half-open door.
“Will someone please take me to dinner!?” The voice was more strident now, desperate.
I stopped and looked in at the woman against the far wall, alone in her big dark room.
“She told me that someone is coming.”
“Oh.” She sat rigid, her eyes sunk in. “Thank you very much!”
I wondered who the woman thought I meant by ‘she’ as I got on the elevator, always there, ready for my escape.
Absolutely sweet, and yet gut-wrenching.
I think she’s still there waiting.
Yes, The universal enjoyment of being unable to care for one’s self, and our dependency on others,.. We are not islands and this individual could as easily be a city like Detroit, or a country like Haiti,.. Thankfully there are generous people like you Don, who can not walk by, without walking back. This bodes well for humanity, and for me and my broken ankle,..
I say we put a wall around all of the unfortunates of the world and just lob in bags of food. That includes you, HDM, and Randy Carlyle!!