Thursday, October 15, 2015


A couple years a ago I had to put my sister, who was only 52 years old, into a Nursing Home.
The Woodbridge Rehabilitation Center, they call it.
It’s a long story. Her first day there was horrible, and through tears she asked me “How can you put me here?”
And I told her I had looked around the day before, and it looked like my kind of place, and that she would get some physical therapy for the neck surgery she had. That was the only goal anyone had in mind. Just get a month of rest and care that the Texas Rehabilitation Hospital had not been able to provide, and you'll be ready to go back home.

You wouldn’t believe all the women in a nursing home. The ratio must be 10 to 1, women to men.
And my sister took a day or two, but she calmed down, and started getting the care she needed.

A few days later I went to see her and was surprised to find she was in great spirits, and she giggled to me that there was a lot of senior action going on behind closed doors at the Woodbridge Rehabilitation Center. She had also noted the ratio of women to men.
“I know!” I said “I told you I could really have a time down here. And the best part is that half of these guys are still just as lame as they have been all their lives. They have no idea what to do about it.”

As sad as it is to be reminded of my sister passing early this year, it's a bittersweet joy to find this forgotten note scrawled in a draft stage. To remember how she thought we were putting her away and her big laugh; to go ahead and post it up right now.

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