More Fun Time Tales From a Nursing Home

One summer someone in the family purchased a bird feeder, and we brought it up to the home on a visit to Foxy one time, figuring it’d be something nice for all the residents to enjoy. While a few of us were hanging out with Foxy in his room, the rest were in the yard installing it. Perhaps the fluttering of birds around the feeder might distract the old folks gazing out the window from the cemetery directly across the street.

Anyway, at one point my sister and my cousin (who were about 5 and 6 respectively) were playing a game with Foxy called “Grab the Dollar.” It was a game that evolved out of his love for the almighty buck, combined with a way to strengthen his hand weakened from the stroke. I was in and out of the room, but I do remember Foxy started fidgeting in his chair (which now only had wheels on the back, having been removed months earlier after his “Looking Around” Expedition on the kitchen) and could not seem to get comfortable. He stopped the game, and kept fidgeting. It appeared as if he wanted out of the chair. The girls came to get me because they didn’t know what was wrong.

“You can’t get out, Foxy. I’m sorry.” I said.

“Move me!” he kept shouting. “Move me!”

“What? You want to be moved? You want me to get a nurse?” I asked.

“Move me! Move me!” More fidgeting side to side. “Move me!”

The nurse was down the hall, and I continued floundering on how to help him. Do you need to go to the john? Do you want to take a nap? Do you want to watch t.v.? The girls were panicking, because he was panicking, and getting more ornery by the minute until finally he shouted,

“Move me! Move me! I’m sittin’ on my balls!”