It's been a sad week. You remember Big Marge, my assigned supper mate table partner. She had a chronic cough that she insisted was bronchitis. She would not wear a mask. I quickly caught the cold, was sick for weeks, and wound up at another table.
Big Marge developed leg ulcers, was hospitalized for a while, and had an assistant when she returned. I made a point of speaking to the three remaining table mates. Gloria and Little Marge are the other two. These two are well into their nineties, and Gloria told me her name happened because she was born on a glorious summer day.
Names are Big Marge's chief problem, or the biggest I deal with. She remembers no name but her own. She asks me mine several time in a conversation. She has other problems with memory that I am aware of, but which don't affect me. Recently an aid let slip a memory issue, and followed by telling us Marge would be moving to assisted living soon. Marge was told Friday afternoon, and Friday evening as tough for her.
Friday afternoon was a cheerful throwback time. Those who wanted to made tie-die shirts. I arrived to watch and found my friend Mary Lou very frustrated. She was late because her physical therapist kept her late. We glanced briefly at the instructions, then went to work on her shirt. She accordion folded it and secured it with rubber bands.
Several people were already dying shirts folded exactly the same. So I took her shirt and rolled it up into a flat plate. Mary Lou got rubber bands in place in a timely fashion. She went off to dye and I fell in with the ladies cleaning up.
The shirts will steep overnight and be rinsed and rinsed today and returned on Monday. That should be fun.
Then there is the matter of the construction out the window.
One or two men are working on it, daily. I take the older to be the supervisor and the other a younger helper. Well, that's it for the week!