Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [12]
“Sure. What are you here for?” she asked suspiciously, as if I carried the West Nile virus.
“I’m waiting for my aunt. She’s been in there forever.”
Luella’s expression relaxed. “The wait seems longer every time we’re here, too.”
I flopped in the chair and sighed. “Aunt Rose never wants me to go in the doctor’s room with her either; she’s a little ornery that way.”
“Believe me; I know how that goes.”
“You here with your husband?”
Her guarded look returned. “Why would you ask that?”
“Oh. I saw you sitting with that handsome older man and I assumed . . .” I aimed my eyes at the purple floral carpet in mock embarrassment. “Never mind.”
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“It’s a natural mistake.”
I figured I’d blown it by overplaying my hand. It surprised me when she asked, “Is your aunt here because she’s ill?”
“Aunt Rose has complained of a stomach/headache thing for a couple of days. Probably nothing serious, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially since she’s taking so many prescriptions. I’m afraid to give her any over-the-counter medications.”
“What is she on?”
Think. “Um, Aricept for early stage Alzheimer’s, methotrexate for rheumatoid arthritis, and Zestril for high blood pressure.” Who said suffering through those pharmaceutical ads on TV didn’t pay off?
Luella confided, “The gentleman I’m with? He takes Aricept and I don’t see how it’s helped him one bit.”
It boggled my mind how easily older people just chatted about various health ailments—theirs and others—with total strangers.
“Is he here getting his meds changed?”
“To a combination of Aricept and Namenda. I hope it works. He’s gotten so confused and forgetful in the last few weeks anything would be an improvement at this point.”
“Sounds like you’re a big help to him.”
She brightened. “It’s not like he has anyone else to rely on or to help him with day-to-day issues. The poor, sweet dear is all alone.”
Big chomp mark on my fat tongue kept me from 39
retorting, Except for his worried granddaughter.
“Your aunt is lucky she has you. I work with the elderly every day. It’s heartbreaking to see how many of them end up alone.”
She’d thrown the door of opportunity wide open; I barged right through. “Are you a nurse?”
“No. Just a volunteer.”
Right. A volunteer who got paid.
“That’s really generous to take care of people and not get anything in return.”
“Part of my Lakota heritage is to honor our elders. But helping these folks who’ve sacrificed to make this country great is reward enough. Besides, they deserve better than to be shoved aside out of sight and forgotten like an old pair of worn-out shoes.”
Cue Old Glory and Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the U.S.A. “Do you work for a specific volunteer program?”
Luella paused, as if to hedge the question. “Prime Time Friends. Currently we’re only associated with Prairie Gardens Assisted Living Facility.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. My brother and I were just there checking out the facility for Aunt Rose.” When Luella’s spine stiffened again, I confided,
“Dee gave us the nickel tour. Frankly, we didn’t get to see all that much, or talk to any residents, which is important to me. And Dee certainly didn’t tell us there was a volunteer program like Prime Time Friends where Rose could get such personalized attention from generous souls as yourself.”
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A little praise and she relaxed. “Dee is a wonderful administrator. It’s a pity she can’t spend more time with prospective clients to show all the benefits offered by Prairie Gardens. There are probably a few other aspects she didn’t have time to discuss with you, either.”
I nodded, hoping I’d prodded her in the right direction. “Such a difficult decision, knowing which facility will