My mother had a stroke part 8: in a blink.
The TV in my mom’s room developed a mind of its own, turning itself on and off at will. I blamed the ghost of a physician still making his rounds who didn’t believe in TVs in patients’ rooms, but the repair person said the TV was broken.
Which was a shame, because my mom has clearly been enjoying the TV.
Last week we found some old movies on TCM, black-and-white ones, and on the day we watched, they all centered around the inspiring, complicated, morally conflicted character from the late 40s and early 50s…
Insurance adjusters.
No, really. But these guys were more like insurance cops, investigating claims, seduced by the criminal elements, all with wide shoulder-padded suits and steely looks in their eyes. The women had corsets on at all times, including under their nightgowns.
A never-was reality complete with hazy shadows and dialogue that had to be intended to be funny. Had to be.
But then the TV started with its shenanigans. My mom seemed unpleased.
We’ve been using the blink system, which doesn’t always work. One for yes, two for no.
“This channel, Mom?”
Blink.
They downsized her trach, and she extended her time off the vent day after day…
