9 PM. The sound of ocean waves crashing is a
pleasant one. Maybe that’s one reason why, contrary to expectations, I slept soundly last night, dreaming dreams of success.
In one dream, I read in Newsweek about my Sylvia Ginsberg Fan Club idea; in another, I found half a dozen of my story titles on a New York Times Book
Review-type best seller list along with titles by
Stephen King.
I awoke feeling refreshed at 6 AM. The VCP works, but I found Body Electric on WLIW/21 at 7:30 AM and exercised to the show rather than a tape. After
breakfast, I vacuumed and dusted, and then at 9 AM, I left to visit Grandma Ethel.
It was a bright, mild day. The Woodmere office didn’t know how I could get to the home by public transportation, but someone told me that it was just off Central Avenue, and I recalled there were Nassau County buses that went up that street that I could get in Far Rockaway, so I took the Green bus there.
On Seagirt Avenue, I found the N31 bus and asked the driver to announce my stop. The bus headed past the familiar avenue of Lawrence, Cedarhurst and Woodmere, and I got off just after it turned into Broadway.
At first I went into the nursing home by mistake, but they told me the health-related facility was next door. Actually, I had been favorably impressed by the nursing home, which was nothing like the war zone Grandpa Nat lived in in North Miami.
At the HRF’s desk, I was told Grandma’s room was 321, and as I approached, a walker stuck out of the door and Grandma was behind it. She stopped for a moment and so did I as we stared at each other; then I went over and kissed and hugged her.
She looks bad, but no worse than she did last September in the hospital. In fact, she’d gained weight and just had her hair done. But she’s still depressed, as I discovered as I sat on her bed in the room she shares with another woman.
She’s just waiting to die, and Grandma feels she’s not getting medical care when she wants it. Her gums, tongue and lips all bothered her – that bitter taste again, though her lip did look infected – something that just began a few days ago.
They force everyone to get dressed and out of bed every day. Last week, she said she felt too sick to get dressed, and they didn’t give her the four usual meals until she got up and put on clothes for the dining room.
I assume they were trying to condition Grandma to fight depression. Marty, in his weekly visit yesterday, had told her I was coming, and she asked me about the apartment and my family in Florida.
We talked, and then she took me to the TV/smoking room, where we sat around. Some residents are mobile, others are in wheelchairs, and some, like Grandma, use walkers.
It’s not exactly a great place, but the people there aren’t totally out of it, and I could see from the
bulletin board there are numerous activities – movies, religious services for Jews and Christians, current events discussion groups, and the like – and a good menu, which adhered to all the laws I know from having to make up such a menu for my nutrition class.
After Grandma exhausted her complaints, we started to run out of stuff to discuss, but together we sat and watched TV until they called her into the spotless dining room for lunch.
Hungry myself, I had a fruit bar and a bag of defatted peanuts while waiting for the bus (with the same driver I’d had on the way there), and in Far Rock, I took a Haitian van to Beach 116th Street, where I went
to the bank, got some Korean salad bar and groceries at Waldbaum’s. (Everything here is about 40% more expensive than in Florida.)
After lunch, I spoke to Mom, who had called, and then went to visit Aunt Tillie, who holds her hand over her mouth because she doesn’t wear her teeth anymore. She also complains, but Tillie, despite her many elements, has more strength than Grandma. Like everyone else, Tillie seems to think it’s best to give up Grandma’s apartment this summer.
At 5 PM, I excused myself from Tillie’s, and I came home to have dinner, read the Times, and listen to All
Things Considered.
I left messages with my phone number here with Justin and David, Pete, and Josh, and I didn’t talk long with Sat Darshan, whose kids just returned from India last night; I’ll call her next week, as I’m sure she’ll be spending time with Gurujot and Gurudaya this week on her vacation.
I did speak with Elihu, who’s still working at that accounting firm he hates, but he said he may get a job with a pleasant boutique firm. In any case, Elihu plans to be out of there soon, but he’s still Mr. Straight-Arrow Employee With a Mortgage. He seemed surprised I’m going to law school, but what’s he gonna say: “You’re nuts”? I expect some of my old friends will think that, however.
Living here in Rockaway last September, I began to consider this place my own apartment, and it’s becoming that once more.