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Showing posts from April, 2009


Elsie’s thin hand pressed the afghan into a tight space between her leg and the wheelchair arm. Her sister had crocheted it, this green and orange thing, her lifeline to the outside. “Ready to go back?” A staccato voice. “Yes.” “Eat your dessert this time?” “Yes.” “Good girl. Want me to push you?” Her soft blue eyes shifted. “I can do it.” “Good girl, Elsie. It’s important to take care of yourself some. Elsie released the brake, carefully, one wheel and the other, slowly, not to betray herself. Back from the table, aim at the door. “Elsie!” The staccato nurse. Elsie froze. “That blanket’s filthy, I’ll get it washed.” Elsie pressed the tight space again. “No!” Then softer, “It’s fine.” She searched for a good line, “I’m cold.” “It’s seventy degrees in here.” “I’m cold. Please.” “Well, whatever. You want that nasty thing, I offered.” Elsie waited. Must not appear rushed, hurried. Slowly to the door. “Elsie, you taking anything from the dining hall this time?” Another bossy nurse. Elsie c