I don’t know how I’ve managed to remain sane thru this 3 year process.

My latest roommate has dementia. Is on oxygen all day. And continues asking for help all day and night.                  

When the aide comes  in, frustrated at being called again she asks, what do you need help with?

I am not sure, he says. Let me remember.

It takes five hours for him to decide to eat each meal.

The aides need to fight to take the old tray of food away as next meal arrives.

He room fills with fruit flies.

He’s a navy vet. A mechanic on aircraft carrier.

The guy who gave signal to pilots about whether to land or not. Split second life and death stuff.

Go figure the vageries of fate.

Not a bad guy. Just hard of hearing, demented, Copd, ocd, hoarder, etc. He’ll be moved from this room soon. I hope today.

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