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I met Catherine on my very first day at the nursing home. I was waiting to fill out my volunteer paperwork while the recreation director finished up some other business. A frail, elfish woman in a tiny wheelchair came up beside me and said in a very low, gruff voice: “Do you know her?” Looking at the director, I said “No, this is the first time I've been here.” The tiny lady replied “I hate her. She's a G-d d--d b..ch..”
That was my introduction to Catherine. On a ward where almost everyone else is confined to bed, Catherine is mobile. She propels herself slowly along the hallways with her feet as she sits in her tiny chair. She loves costume jewelry, and every finger on both hands is adorned with brightly colored rings. Sometimes she has 5 or 6 bracelets on her wrists, and when the aides have time, she has colorful net bows in her snow white hair. She must be over 90.
And, she is "difficult". In her low gruff voice, she talks like a trucker. She has been known to throw food, and last week she scratched a nurse. On my first visit to the ward, I knelt down to talk with her, and asked if she would like to pet the dog. She said “I hate dogs. They're dirty.” Murray and I moved along down the hall.
Around the end of August, I noticed that she seemed to be waiting for us when we got off the elevator. Murray would lie down at her feet and she would reach down and pet his head. “I don't like dogs, but he's OK”, she would say. And Murray and I would move on down the hall.
Last night, Catherine was at the far end of the hallway when Murray and I got off the elevator.I waved and said “Hi Catherine!” and she came slowly down to meet us. She had a little dog biscuit for Murray, and we sat on the floor and talked for a long time. When we got up to leave, Catherine smiled and said “ I don't like dogs, but I love this one.” And Murray and I moved on down the hall.
It was a good night.
That was my introduction to Catherine. On a ward where almost everyone else is confined to bed, Catherine is mobile. She propels herself slowly along the hallways with her feet as she sits in her tiny chair. She loves costume jewelry, and every finger on both hands is adorned with brightly colored rings. Sometimes she has 5 or 6 bracelets on her wrists, and when the aides have time, she has colorful net bows in her snow white hair. She must be over 90.
And, she is "difficult". In her low gruff voice, she talks like a trucker. She has been known to throw food, and last week she scratched a nurse. On my first visit to the ward, I knelt down to talk with her, and asked if she would like to pet the dog. She said “I hate dogs. They're dirty.” Murray and I moved along down the hall.
Around the end of August, I noticed that she seemed to be waiting for us when we got off the elevator. Murray would lie down at her feet and she would reach down and pet his head. “I don't like dogs, but he's OK”, she would say. And Murray and I would move on down the hall.
Last night, Catherine was at the far end of the hallway when Murray and I got off the elevator.I waved and said “Hi Catherine!” and she came slowly down to meet us. She had a little dog biscuit for Murray, and we sat on the floor and talked for a long time. When we got up to leave, Catherine smiled and said “ I don't like dogs, but I love this one.” And Murray and I moved on down the hall.
It was a good night.