I was sitting in this office here today when I remembered that I left a man, a new member, in the 'spa'. Isn't that nice? Wheeled him in and forgot all about him. The Spa is really just a large white bathroom with the tub, toilet, and sink in it. Of course there are possibilities. It has a heater which can heat the room to the sauna stage, so in that respect, it could be a spa. Just right now, it's mostly a bathroom. With a shower. Still. You open the door expecting candles and a massage table. Soft music. Dim lighting. The sounds of water dripping from somewhere or maybe a thunderstorm followed by heavy rain, the fragrance of coconut oil wafting a tropical Breeze. Andreas Vollenwieder on the harp. I don't know. I try to draw from my limited experience to create something special out of nothing. An illusion of something splendid beyond the sign. And so in great anticipation of this marvelous transformation, a basket of products, ointments, powders, lotions and gray hair tints were brought from home. A couple of super absorbent towels no one had better touch. They can bring their own. At least I give a good shower. Make em forget they are in a bathroom. Well...not really. The ladies tell me I am too rough and they don't care for my singing. A rather disgusting thought. What kind of spa is this? Never mind. Get in there.
Anyway, it had only been a few minutes that I left him, but it felt like an eternity. Well. Not really an eternity. I just get this bad feeling when I forget these things. I guess it's that panicky feeling one would get if you suddenly realized you had left a child in the car and gone on to work. I don't even want to think about it. It's one of the reasons I am not comfortable working in a hospital setting. What ifs....The possibilities for drama are endless in this kind of work, and i just don't want to have to deal with those kind of scenarios. I don't want any trouble here. So, I head down the hall. The door is coming up. I stop in front of it... I have no idea what I am going to find behind it... It's a heavy door and he's not in any shape to be pushing it open from a w/c. Is he on the bowl? is he on the floor? Where is he gonna be?...OK, i have this rule that no one dies on my time here. I have had a few close calls but we always manage to get em out of here before that happens. Problem breathing? Call 911. Losing consciousness? 911. I just don't want to have to start CPR on anyone here. I don't wanna be using those pads...CLEAR!! Jolting members, in front of other members. Too much drama.
So I opened the door and he's sitting there waiting patiently on the other side in his w/c with his Oxegen up his nose.
" Hey. You made it back into the chair. Great. OK. Were you waiting long?"
" No."
" Were you calling me? I couldn't hear down the hall."
" Not yet. You said you'd be back."
"I guess you can just use the regular men's room then." I was thinking it was no favor to confine him in the spa, as long as he get's around so well. I could wedge that the door open alittle, so he can get out. No sense making him dependant.
"Where are we going now? I am kind of tired." I take him back to the activity room and tell him that he has to join the group.
"No more sleeping in the Library today, Mr. X. You know, you dam well can do that at home. I have to get you in with the group. You're gonna LOVE this.".
" I hate Bingo."
"Well sit tight, Mr. X. This is no ordinary Bingo. This is CELEBRITY BINGO! Are you strapped in? Got your marker?"
Frances had just gotten Bingo.
"OK, Fran, read off your numbers." They have to be sure. It's only fair.
" Diagonal. Marg Simpson, 46, FREE SPACE, 25 13."
Nice Job Frances. Give her a point.
(Points add up to shopping coupons at our Country Store at the end of the month).
Meanwhile, we have another winner at 'Table 9' ( I find that numbering the tables adds to the excitment---anything to add the excitment around here, as long as nobody dies~
" Bingo!"
" Read em off, Ant."
" Princess Di, 47, 57, Carol Brady, Penny Marshall."
" I didn't call Penny Marshall yet.
" Oops".
" That's okay. Let's keep going 'till lunchtime!"
And they are happy. So this is what it all boils down to. What we are all waiting to retire for. Bingo winnings. I watched a couple of you tubes and it doesn't look any more exciting in the real world, though I feign excitement. There's gotta be more than this. Guitar Hero!!! sigh. out of budget, and though i know we just picked up the Wii Bowling, Baseball and Carnival Games edition, They want Bingo. Ask for it even. Bingo and Buffet. sigh.
Why is Bingo associated with senior citizens? Why do these people love it so much? I use to think it took little or no skill to play it. A mindless game, I thought, and then I realized that you have to be able to pay attention. It's a different kind of skill. You have to stay alert if you want to catch those numbers being called. It's really hard for a person with attention deficit disorder. I can't seem to scan the cards with the ease of a senior. I suspect that my mind goes on and off intermittantly, like a blinking light, i think. A bobble head? I hope not. I can scan cards but I need more time than most. I don't know. Much prefer Scrabble.
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