Eleanor Tatum

Recently I’ve had the opportunity to spend time and energy at a nursing home. Don’t stop reading. If you’re lucky, you’ll be older someday.

The lady of my focus can communicate, she can speak, fortunately for her. Try to put yourself in her preverbal Indian moccasins, try to communicate your immediate needs. Oh wait…you can’t walk and your arthritic hands won’t allow you to write. You can express descriptions of your necessary needs, which by the way, are not being met when you need them to be met.

No wonder the Victorians labeled their bathroom as “The Necessary”. That is far more correct. We use that room far more often than just bathing.

Ah, I digress. Returning to my lady of focus, my mother-in-law, she can also describe her pains, her aches, and her frustrations at late and lame medications. Now, try on that wheelchair of those who cannot speak. Pray to the God of your blessings for those seniors. My lady of focus thanks you.  

Enough.

Next week I’ll return to the controllable and positive world of romantic fiction.