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HOME IS WHERE WE WANT TO BE
Sal, My Legs Just Gave Out
I fear we are entering the final years, months, or weeks for the old veteran.
It was early in the morning when the phone rang, an unusual occurrence these days, but not years ago, when my husband’s mom would call every morning at 8 a.m., demanding that her son come as soon as possible because she needed him.
Caller ID this morning identified our old friend Bill, the 101-year-old veteran still living at home with no help beyond a housekeeper.
My heart sank, listening to his growly voice in my ear, “I’m back in the ER again. I don’t know what happened. I drove to the bank, picked up my medication at CVS, and did my laundry and grocery shopping. When I arrived home, my legs gave out. I collapsed.”
“I called 911, and they brought me to the ER, and now I’m waiting for a room.”
His wait turned out to be hours long.
Why couldn’t he grasp that he did too much for his aging body in one morning? His legs were tired.
His son, upset and annoyed, called us later. His dad was not cooperating with the health plan laid out in his last ER, hospital, and rehab cycle only a few months ago. No, the old cougar resisted the assistance he needed to…
