She was born before the Great War. She grew up in an era when transportation was primarily by foot or horse. Here in The City you could go almost anywhere on an electric streetcar for a nickel. She has survived two World Wars, a Depression, a Cold War, the Great Society, the rise and fall of Communism, and disco. She’s seen 18 presidents and outlived all but 5 of them.
And now she sits small and frail in a chair in a nursing home.
She’s mad as a wet hen that we’ve come for her, and she makes sure we know that she is NOT a resident here. At just shy of a century old, she comes here to volunteer!
She’s in no real distress right now, and she balks at the idea of our stretcher. We gently talk her into accepting our care, and off we go to Local Suburban Hospital. She’s very gracious with us, differentiating between annoyance at her situation and our need to do our job.
I see she can be feisty, though. The nurses at LSH are going to love her, for the same reasons I do. Keep it up, you’ll live to see that century yet.
Little old ladies are my Kryptonite. I’m truly powerless in their spell. I lost the last of my grandparents over ten years ago, and I still miss them all dearly. I’m fortuate to meet a slew of wonderful Grannys in the course of my duties, and every so often one just stands out. I can happily put them back to bed at all hours of the night, no matter how busy the shift has been. I don’t mind having a chat, fetching a drink, or making sure the cat gets looked after when we leave. And the feisty ones, they just make life worth living.
If I get to four-score-and-ten, plus, and kids the age of my great-grandchildren come to cart me off in an ambulance, I plan to give them h*ll too. With a smile, of course.