The Thief of Lost Time

Chapter 22: "Why Do I Have to Make Breakfast?"

I visit Mom the day she enters the nursing home. The facility is off a main street in Melrose down a narrow road called Nursing Home Lane. A dozen small houses painted in pastel colors line the street. The houses are poorly maintained: chipping paint, sagging front porches or missing front steps. An unfortunate metaphor for the facility at the end of the street. The nursing home, painted dark green with cream trim, dwarfs the houses it overlooks. Visitors park their cars on both sides of the road. Behind the building, a small parking lot is crowded with weekend visitors.

The receptionist gives me Mom's room number and I take the elevator to the second floor. Her room is opposite the back door to the parking lot. I make a note to use that door in the future. When I enter the room, the only person I find is Mom's roommate, sitting in a wheelchair, looking out the window. Hearing me, she wheels the chair around, squinting her eyes. I nod and smile. She looks away. Apparently, I'm not interesting enough for a second glance. She grunts when I say, "Hello." Dressed in her nightgown, she wears a flat hat that a dock hand might wear.

Mom's half-empty suitcase lies open on her bed. The second drawer of her bureau is open and filled with jerseys and sweaters.

"There you are." Leslie enters behind me.

"Where's Mom?"

"She and Dad are meeting with the Rehab specialist. She's watching Mom walk and perform simple tasks before deciding on a plan."

"I hope they can get her active again. She sat around the apartment too much."

"That's Dad's fault. He's never pushed her to do anything. Hasn't the patience." Leslie finishes unpacking the suitcase and closes the bureau drawer. "Easier to do everything himself."

"I blame the pills. They scatter her thoughts. She can't concentrate."

"Frankly, she's gotten lazy and it will be a job getting her going again. Maybe they'll figure out what the problem is. They better, considering Dad's forking over $5,000 a month."

"Good God." I'm shocked. I knew it was expensive but had no idea it was that much.

"You didn't know?" Leslie is amused at my naiveté. "Imagine the cost when we'll need one." She pushes the suitcase under the bed with her foot. "Before they get back, will you carry in your old bookcase from Dad's car? I have more of Mom's clothes to carry in."

We go to the back door. "Park behind the building and use this door." She pushes a series of buttons. "Saves taking the elevator." The door unlocks with a snap.

"What's the code?"

"9-7-5-3-1. The only barrier between the grannies and freedom."

Leslie unlocks Dad's car with her key. "By the way, be prepared if Mom starts complaining about her room."

Leslie explains that her roommate, Mrs. Gaskell, is vigilant in protecting her space on the window-side of the room. "When Mom walked over to look outside, Gaskell told her to stop 'encroaching on her territory.' When Mom heard that..." Leslie lowers her voice. "You know Mom. Tell her to stay away and she'll be rubber-necking out the window all day."

"What happened?"

"I wasn't there, but Dad said the floor nurse came and spoke to both of them. She told Mom that the area by the window is part of Gaskell's sitting area for visitors. And she told Mrs. Gaskell that Mom can look out the window when Gaskell doesn't have visitors." Leslie shakes her head. "There'll always be one issue or another." She brushes her hands on her jeans. "Okay, carry in the bookcase and I'll meet you back inside."

I pull the bookcase out of Dad's car. "Do I use the code to get back in?"

"No, it's easy to get in. You just can't get out."