There is so much I want to tell you but, alas, I get too tired too fast.
Today there would be the story of the man who was admitted Friday evening, and the importance of hugs, and some other stuff, but lunch is due in five minutes. Yesterday all I got for lunch was half a cup of lukewarm soup and a small piece of cherry pie. I did not get any crab cake or vegetables.
I did not know it was spring.
A week ago I started seeing flocks of geese flying north. That was until the night nurse brought me pain medicine last night and told me that the daffodils are eight inches high in her front yard, and the crocuses are up. She also has robins and redwing blackbirds and other substantial signs of spring.
It hurt me. I did not know spring had come on the ground. I’m on the third floor, overlooking the employee parking lot.
Here is an alarm: in your old age, you will be taken care of the way you are now taking care of your parents. Your children are watching and learning how to take care of you. Should you be scared? If what you are doing for your parents now is not how you want to be treated when your time comes, what are you going to do about it?
The old guy . . .