As daughter Julie is in a nursing home, and is the youngest resident there presently, she seems to be considered either a staff sister, daughter, or granddaughter. Julie is treated well and respectfully, although at times waiting for help is inconvenient. But waiting for her is not life threatening, and the hours and days continue on.
Visiting with daughter takes my mornings, and worrying about her comprises the afternoons. I try to plan something to do with her each morning: a manicure, doing a crossword puzzle, a hair trim, petting a dog. Suggestions appreciated. I used to take care of the entry garden area, pruning the rose bushes with clippers, picking up debris, and puttering. That came to a screeching halt yesterday when I brought in my battery charged hedge clippers to trim the bushes and was told that this was not allowed as it was a "liability hazard." Funny, who knew trimming plant overgrowth was considered hazardous.
When I left yesterday before lunch she was talking (high decibel level) to a resident new to her assigned meal table. He was hard of hearing, and she was helping to make him comfortable by chatting him up. She has a good soul. Julie later called to tell me she encouraged him to eat, similar to how as a child she had also prodded her great grandmother to take "just a bite." What caring lessons she learned as a child seem to have carried onwards. Maybe she can still help someone now. I think so.
Julie, smiling on the 4th of July, Gene, not smiling. Dogs playing at Gene's feet, but out of sight. They were happy visiting. Gene or I take one or two dogs several times a week to be petted and they are getting into a routine of outings in the car. Libby, the Wonder Therapy Dog for 7 years, newly retired because of knee problems, is much better at sitting and patiently waiting for the visit to end. Although she does like the head scratches and cookies that Julie gives them, albeit five calorie Milk Bones snapped in half.It will not be three weeks until I again post, but sooner. Count on it.
