First, you have to know that they put everyone into a big room to eat with about four people at each table. I am also a male, which is important to the story. I was feeding one of the women there and the woman across the table kept talking to me, which was normal. Alzheimer's patients are usually able to carry on a conversation until they are in the late stages, and this woman was in her early stages and still physically healthy. She kept complimenting me on how handsome I was (which is for sure a sign of a mental disability; I have one fat ugly mug). She also kept offering me a piece of her pimento cheese sandwich. I kept refusing and saying "no thank you" to her offers. Apparently, she wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't remember exactly what she said but it was along the lines of "I'm going to feed this to you NOW!" She got up and sprinted toward me trying to grab me and force the pimento cheese sandwich in my mouth. Luckily, the Caribbean nurse assistants were able to grab her and say things like "NO! This is my husband. You can't do that" (for anyone who has never been into a nursing home, the nurse assistants are always Caribbean. It's a lot like Gullah Gullah Island, except more depressing). I darted for the hallway and left as soon as I could that day. I know it's kind of petty, but it was one of the scarier moments of my life.
YOU ARE READING
Mental
Non-FictionWarning this story is based on true stories. Every person that the main character encounters has their own story based on true stories submitted to me anonymously by people who work in the psych field or who have been in a psych ward themselves. The...
