When I arrived at Mr. Johnson’s room, he was sitting in the doorway in his wheelchair, frowning at the passersby. He was immaculately dressed as usual, in a button-down shirt and shorts on this hot summer day, looking much younger than his 90 years.
Lately he’d been frustrated that his memory was interfering with his ability to get things done. Last week I’d tacked onto his bulletin board a calendar we’d created to outline the days and times of his favorite activities.
“How are you?” I asked, settling into the chair across from him.
He shook his head. “Not good.”
He spoke in slow, measured words, so that sessions with him, while always fruitful, took on his Caribbean pace.
“My daughter Letty is in the hospital and I can’t reach her. She just had surgery and I’m worried about her.”
I could tell his anxiety was high and I worried that it would trigger one of his many medical conditions.
For the entire story, visit: Nursing Home Love Story #4: It’s the Simple Things