God bless my roommate.
He's about 90 years old, lives in a nursing home, and is confused as to where he is. Every morning the nursing staff has to change his undergarments, and he treats it as if he's being tortured.
Well, this morning he was a bit too much. Not content with the usual amount of expletives toward the nursing staff, he also threatened to leave Against Medical Advice; he says he'd take a cab. Actually, he wanted to leave here . . . to get to the hospital. I had enough and left the room until they were done with him.
I think he's got dementia of some sort. LC and I have done our best to talk to him, but I think the thing that confuses him the most is that he really can't tell whether he's at his nursing home or here. I feel for the guy, but this morning it was just too much. I'm glad I didn't say anything to him.
Besides, how do I know that won't be me in another 40 years?
UPDATE 5/1 late evening: He had his stone removed today and seems to be in much better spirits. I bet one reason he was howling so much during the cleaning of his nether portions was that it probably made his stone hurt like heck.
He took some time to tonight to tell me an old story of how he snookered his friends on a bet. I plan to keep in touch with him after leaving here; he seems like he needs some friendship.
After all, how many older folks waste away with no one to talk to or care about them? Both my parents and my in-laws have elderfolk that they've "adopted" over the years, and I recall well a Yorkshire couple serving as our UK grandparents. I think this will be a good opportunity to extend myself. I mean, like the story of the starfish, I may not be able to help everyone . . . but here's someone I can help.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007