Happy Birthday to me!
I’m 47 today – (I’ll only admit to 35) and I mowed the lawn and lifted the old lady next door.
Yes, for the past few days I’ve been helping the nurse who takes care of the 104 yr old woman next door, because the nurse sprained her arm and can’t lift her anymore. So I’ve been helping out. It’s been an interesting experience. The woman in question (104 – that makes her 57 years older than I am) is deaf and cranky, and has slight dementia. Otherwise, she’s in fine form. She can’t walk, but she can complain – which according to the nurse, she does constantly. Today she complained I set her down too fast (I actually nearly rolled over with her onto the bed. She’s heavy!) But she’s strong, and she can usually hoist herself into her wheelchair, just not back into bed.
My son, who is a fireman, said that most of his missions are picking up elderly folk who have fallen down and can’t get up. He told me to call him if the old woman got stuck. So far the nurse has managed on her own, until she sprained her arm.
The old woman saw me the first day and said, “Who’s that?”
“La voisine!” (the neighbor) shouted the nurse. (she has to shout, as the old lady is deaf as my dachshund when he’s decided he wants to stay in bed.)
“No, la voisine!”
“Oh. Bonjour Justine.”
“No, pas Justine. Ta voisine! She’s here to help!”
The old lady calls me Justine now, and complains that I don’t lift her high enough to get her situated right in bed.
According to the nurse, she’s being difficult because she refuses to let the nurse lift her with this handy contraption that would make life considerably easier for everyone. But the old lady refuses, and so the poor nurse has to come knocking at my door every morning and evening to get the old woman set up right.
Next week a new nurse is coming, and I’m leaving on vacation, but my son said he’d be standing by in case she needs lifting, so don’t anyone worry.