Time passes quickly…. here in the mountains

Life goes by too fast. Over the last few weeks a friend of mine has died, my daughter got baptised, another friend spent way too much time crying (and I don’t know what to do about that) and they began to mess with my favourite cereal. Is nothing sacred?

Human life doesn’t seem to be. An old lady in my care is resident in a nursing home now and I went to see her today. They say that in her day she was brilliant and determined and achieved much. She even had contacts with the royal family…. but, hey, I’ll forgive her that. Now her memory has gone. Today, talking to her I could only find two people she remembered from the recent past and I was one of them and she couldn’t quite figure out my name.

The trouble is with her spectacles. Four months ago, she was transferred to her nursing home. Her glasses were broken and the frame was held together with a sticking plaster (band aid). Four months ago, they said that her glasses would be sent away and repaired. Each time I visit they can’t find her spectacles and then when they do, they still have that sticking plaster holding it together and there are the usual round of excuses and we go through the pantomime of placing the glasses on her nose. Each time they say that they will be sent away to the opticians for him to do their work … but they never are. And I know they will be missing next time… And I know that when they find them they will still have that sticking plaster holding them together. Trouble is they never find them on the floor or under her clothes or on her chair or in her bedroom….. they always find them somewhere where the nurses have put them for safety. On a shelf or behind a desk. Somewhere safe where the broken glasses won’t get broken.

To add to this conundrum, all of the nurses seem reasonably dedicated and professional. The optician tried to test her for a new prescription but she won’t co-operate.

It seems there’s no-one to blame except the passage of time that has robbed her of the capacity to arrange these things for herself and the passage of time that has laid waste to all of her close family. And the passage of time that means that there’s nothing can be done and by the time it is, she’ll probably be dead.

There’s a lot happening at the moment but I know that sticking plaster is going to haunt me for a long time to come……..

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