Sunday 26-9-10: four years younger

I drove to Peakville in the morning.
The Old Man was in the lounge at Eastwood Priory that afternoon. One of the female carers and I took him to his room — with a slight unintended detour when she guided him (on his frame) over the threshold of someone else’s room.
On one of my recent visits, the Old Man had claimed:
“I’m in my nineties.” That day he claimed:
“I’m ninety-two.”
“No you’re not,” I told him, “you’re eighty-eight.”
Half-way through my visit, he needed the toilet, and managed to get to his ensuite toilet unaided, with the support of his frame. I expected him to call for help at some point, but he didn’t.
When the nurse called to give the Old Man his medication, she reminded him that he had been doing some sanding and polishing as part of his therapy. She told me that the night staff had reported that he had been difficult and aggressive — it was, she said, the first time that he had demonstrated such behaviour at Eastwood Priory.

[Original posting 26 September 2011]

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