Reality Check 11

As the weekend approached, the lives of the residents in the retirement home returned to normal, at least what was considered to be normal for them. 

Over the weekend, the security guards would change every twelve hours, as usual. The young female trainee had the weekend off, as would most of the regular staff. The kitchen staff was reduced to a minimum, as were the  laundry room attendants and those who were responsible for keeping the retirement home clean.

The matron always took every weekend and holiday off. The nurse supposedly had the weekend off too, but both her and the doctor could be called in at any time, for any emergencies.

"This has been a very, long week," thought the nurse to herself, as she prepared the weekend medications and distributed them to the residents.

"If they can take responsibility for their medication on weekends and holidays, they should be able to do so the rest of the time too, with the exception of a few who are mentally impaired."

Everyone did surprisingly well without supervision on the weekends.

"Not having the matron around is a blessing in disguise," the nurse thought to herself, as she watched her leave earlier than usual. "That woman gets away with murder. I don't agree with her idea that no one is needed to  supervise the residents though, as anything could happen."

"If something does happen, you will deal with it then," the matron had told her when she expressed her concern previously. To the matron, the residents were never her concern, as the budget did not allow for that. Her job description was that of 'running' the facility and she saw to it that it was 'run like a tight ship'.

"But times are changing," the nurse had argued. "People are changing too and seniors are extremely vulnerable."

"That is why we have twenty-four hour security guards here." 

The the nurse, that was not her understanding of the role of matron.

The missing resident, Amos, still had not returned or notified anyone of his whereabouts, not even Yvette, who thought he might try to contact her. The interpreter was now spending about an hour a day with her and according to her, Yvette did not say anything about where Amos had gone. Maybe she really did not know. When the interpreter suggested to her that he might not return at all, she burst into tears.

"He is the only one I can talk to," she had replied, when asked why she was crying. "He has to come back!"

The police decided not to lay any charges against Yvette, at least not at this time because there was no evidence that there had been a crime committed. She was already distraught enough, agreed the security guards who promised to keep an eye out for her, because if he did return, there could be a problem. They also suggested that he might have to be sent to a nursing home where he could be supervised more closely.

The interpreter suggested that maybe another person could move into his room, but the police officer advised against doing that. They told the security guard to treat him as if nothing had happened, but to let them know if he returned. 

"I have a better idea," suggested the nurse to the interpreter. "You probably know someone around her age who can speak Spanish fluently. Maybe she could become a resident here at some time in the near future." She knew that there were always residents moving in and out. 

"Yvette really seemed to like that idea," she told the nurse, just as she left for the weekend. "I will see what I can do. That might solve the problem, too."

"I will see you on Monday," said Ralph, smiling at her.

She smiled back thinking, "Hopefully not before then."

Reality Check 10

"Yvette is terrified," said the young, female, security guard trainee who was standing in the doorway to the dining room with the security guard, watching the police officer questioning Yvette. "Interrogating her about Amos, does not seem fair."

"She may be the only one who knows anything about where he went. The police have spoken to almost everyone in this place and nobody seems to know his whereabouts," he replied quietly.

He realized that the security guards should have immediately picked up on him leaving. If his family were to become involved, their recent security lapse could cost the retirement home thousands of dollars in a lawsuit.

"Residents cannot simply disappear!"

"We will know where he went shortly, as the Spanish interpreter has just arrived." 

The police had alerted the security guard and she was coming and was told to allow her into the dining room, as soon as she arrived. All other visitors were prohibited for the time being.

Yvette saw her walk into the dining room and started to sob uncontrollably.

The interpreter quietly asked the police officer to leave them alone for awhile and assured them that she would have some answers for them, as soon as possible.

"You had better get concrete answers immediately, or we are taking her down to headquarters!"

"That police officer is so intimidating!" said the trainee. "There is no need for that kind of bullying."

"Just doing my job," explained the officer, as he walked past them. "Don't let her out of your sight, as she may run too."

"Run?" asked the security guard. "That woman has difficulty walking because of her arthritis. I doubt that she would run anywhere."

"Something is fishy around here," suggested the police officer, under his breath. "She might just try to disappear."

"Relax," replied the security guard. "Let's get a cup of coffee."

They headed for the coffee room, while the young trainee stayed at the dining room door.

"All Yvette wants to do is go to her room and lie down," the interpreter suggested to her, moments later. "May I take her there?"

"Yes, of course," replied the young trainee. "I can stay there with you, just as easily as here."

"She does not need a security guard," suggested the interpreter.

"I know," replied the trainee. "I am just doing my job. Be gentle with her."

The police officer was furious, when he returned with the security guard and found that they had all left the dining room. He started to swear.

"Keep your head on straight," suggested the security guard. "They cannot have gone very far. I can pick them up on the monitor."

Moments later, they spotted Yvette and the interpreter in the hallway, heading into her room. The young trainee stood guard outside the door.

"If Yvette bolts, we will have to take her in," said the police officer.

"Let's give them some time together. These folks are all seniors, remember? It is not Yvette who is the problem, and I do know that you need answers. We do too, but getting them here is like slow motion in reverse and slow, slow and slower."

"Yvette and Amos may be in a conspiracy together."

"I doubt it."

A while later, the interpreter came out of the room, and suggested to the security guard trainee that Yvette should see the doctor as soon as possible.

"I can arrange that. May I ask why?"

"It appears Yvette and Amos have been on the same heart medication and that he had coerced her into giving him her medication for the past week or so."

"That may be a good thing for Amos," commented the doctor, when he arrived. "If Yvette is alright, that is."

The security guard checked the videos again and sure enough, Yvette was handing Amos something in the dining room, every day for a week.

The doctor insisted that Yvette was probably going to be fine, although the stress she was under was not good for her heart. The interpreter could stay with her, but she was not allowed to any further questions, at least for the time being. The nurse agreed to check in on her regularly.

"That is one problem solved," suggested the police officer. "I guess if Amos is absent for longer than a week, he will need to find some heart medication somewhere."

The police officer decided to allow normal resumption of the retirement home activity, with the security guards placed on alert.

"Thank God," said the nurse to the matron.

"Our residents and especially night owls need their freedom, as well as their visitors. Lock down of the retirement home could have had serious implications for our reputation," responded the matron.

Before she left, the nurse checked on Yvette again and she seemed to be fine.

The interpreter who was still sitting with her, confided to her that Yvette had been afraid of Amos, and had told her that he needed to take care of some urgent family matters, but did not say where he was going.

"She may still know, but if she does, she is protecting him."

"Probably," replied the nurse.

As she was preparing to leave, the nurse thought to herself, "Maybe I should become an interpreter. She has a much easier job and gets paid double what I do. The residents treat her like a Greek goddess, while I am nothing more than a Cinderella to many of them...but of course, not to Ralph."

Ralph smiled at her, wondering what she was thinking, as he walked her to the front door.

"You are my princess," he thought to himself. 

Reality Check 9

"Perhaps Ralph needs to have a reality check," thought the nurse, as she recalled his worried look on the previous evening. "Maybe there is something that I don't know about, happening to him."

At times, it took a long time for patients to confide in her, but she was always kind to them and patient. If something new or different was happening in their lives, they would usually confide in her. It meant finding the right time or creating an opportunity to talk with them.

"I will take my blood pressure cuff with me, the next time I take Ralph's medications to his room."

The medication system was such that the nurse was responsible for administering the medications during the daytime and early evening, and then she had to make sure that each one of the residents knew how to take any other medications they required at night.

"I have always thought that this system is terribly risky," she said to herself. "What if somebody make a mistake? In nursing, there is no room for error."

She shook her head at the very thought of administering the wrong medication to someone.

"What if a resident or someone else helped him or herself to the drugs in the medicine room, last night? There is no end to the possible 'what ifs' that could have happened. There really ought to be a night nurse, too."

When she had made the suggestion a number of years ago, the matron had responded angrily, "What do you think this is, a nursing home?"

The nurse knew better than to suggest it to her again.

"I think the matron needs a reality check too, as she is reliving a time when there were almost no medications administered to anyone. Nowadays, it is almost impossible to keep track of all of the new medications and the administration of them. The potential side effects alone are horrendous, not to mention the possible chemical reactions and the interaction of different drugs."

The matron hurriedly tiptoed past the nurse's office, but not without being seen. The security guards picked her up immediately on their monitors. In fact, they caught her every single time she came in late, but did not know what to do about her tardiness.

They also watched her ragging out the nurse in the hallway, on a regular basis. It was almost funny at times. The security guards all knew the young nurse worked non-stop and deserved to be treated better. The matron did not get a chance to berate her, when Ralph was waiting for her.

"Three patients lights are on! One on this end of the building and two on the far end. Time to run."

At this time of day, it was usually wiser for her to answer the lights in person, so off she went.

In her mind's eye, she was still envisioning the joy on her parent's face the previous evening, when they saw the entire family gathered together for their anniversary celebration.

"We pulled it off," the nurse thought to herself. "They had no idea at all, in fact, they thought that everyone had forgotten their anniversary."

She smiled.

The first resident was Leigh, a young senior with severe Parkinson's disease. She was frightened by the rumors about Amos and her tremors were intensifying. Reassuring her was difficult because as a nurse, she did not have the answers Leigh needed, but she tried.

"It is going to be that kind of a day," she thought to herself. "I pray that they find Amos soon."

The other two lights were women in rooms located at the other end of the building. They knew each other well, almost too well. A lot of their symptoms were often related to each other's and stress of various kinds.

Lanetta was tall and thin, Rosetta was short and fat. When one had symptoms, the other invariably had ones that were worse. Separating them for a while, often resolved a lot of their problems, so the nurse sent them both back to their own rooms to rest with instructions to come down to the doctor's office when he came in after lunch, if their symptoms persisted.

One had a headache, the other, a stomach ache. The nurse quickly made a note about each one. Interestingly, both of them had eaten the same breakfast, so she noted that, too.

"A lot of their problems would be solved if they lived on separate ends of the building."

Lanetta and Rosetta had normal blood pressures and temperatures. They did not appear to be pale, flushed or sweating. Neither of them had been vomiting, but both said they felt nauseated.

"Stress about Amos could do that, so could food poisoning." The nurse dreaded the thought of that. "I will be back in about an hour to check on you," she had promised them. "Sometimes I feel like nursing is a master juggling act in terms of time, but I cannot remember even one time when these two ladies did not have their symptoms at different times. A reality check for each of them might be indicated too."

"I am not going to prepare the medications for Amos for now. He could be anywhere."  

Reality Check 8

"There are far too many residents living in this retirement home for one nurse to care for all of them properly," said the nurse to herself, "Fortunately, I still have a job while a lot of other nurses don't." 

With all of the recent changes in health care, many nurses were finding themselves unemployed, or being forced to find work in another field. She was tired after a busy day and not being able to find Amos, had been trying for her too.

"Twelve hour shifts are too long."

By the end of every shift, she was invariably exhausted because she had to go from one end of the building to the other, continuously all day long. Administering everyone's medication was ultimately her responsibility, including the heart medication Amos needed.

"What is he going to get it?" she wondered. "I am far too busy to stand around and wait here for him. I have enough work for three nurses. Most of these patients could look after their own medications, or at least come to me for them. I should not always have to go running after them all the time. But I know that if I say anything like that, or complain about my work load, there are a lot of other nurses waiting to take my position."

It was approximately 4:00 pm, and she was in the middle of writing her report for the matron. A resident's light flicked on. Normally, she would have answered it immediately, but she was working on her report and just as she went to answer it, the light flicked back off.

"No problem, it's probably just a glitch in the system," she thought to herself, as she finished writing her report.

An anxious looking, partly bald, elderly man wearing a bright red smoking jacket, stood patiently outside the office watching her. He was waiting for her, as he always did every evening. Ralph was a kind, soft-spoken man who was always polite to everyone and exceptionally kind to her.

The nurse signed her report, placed it in a Manila envelope and prepared to drop it off at the matron's office before she left. For her, it was going to be a busy evening because it was her parent's fiftieth anniversary. She had a lot of things to do before the party which was scheduled to start late and would last for hours.

She spotted Ralph waiting for her and smiled at him. 

The matron had left early and so she just slid the envelope under her office door. Most evenings, the nurse also had to give the matron a verbal report about the residents, as well as submit a written one. She was aware that the matron already knew about Amos, so that situation was no problem.

"Hi Ralph, are here to walk me to the front door again?" she asked him.

He actually looked worried, but she decided he was probably concerned about Amos. Most of the patients had already heard that he was missing.

Ralph had been secretly in love with the nurse for a long time and always made a point of escorting her to the front door when she left. He smiled at her, shyly.

"Good night, my dear," he said.

"You are so sweet."

Ralph held the front door open for her and waited patiently, while she got into her car.

"She is safe. My work is done." he said. To Ralph, it was a self-appointed task and one that he enjoyed. "She did not mention Amos, so he must be alright."

Usually, the office door was kept locked when the nurse left, but unfortunately, that was not the case this time. Preoccupied, she had not noticed that the lock did not click in place properly.

No one else noticed it either, not even the security guards. It was still open when she arrived and discovered it, the next morning.

"Oh my God!"

Nothing seemed to be out of place. The canary was singing at the top of its voice and so she breathed a sigh of relief. 

"I could get fired for that. It is a good thing that the matron is late again."

Reality Check 7

There was growing concern in the retirement home when Amos, an elderly short, stout, former Spanish professor failed to show up at breakfast, and then again at lunch.

Normally, he would sit alone and read while he ate, or find refuge with a short, elderly, dark-haired lady named Yvette, who appeared to understood Spanish.

"Yvette has been senile for many years, or at least we thought she was," their table attendant had told Amos.

"She is just fine, Amos had replied. "The English language is confusing to her. I teach her a few words in English, every time I dine with her."

The table attendant reported his absence to the security guard who immediately checked his room.

"Thanks for letting me know, but normally we don't keep track of anyone coming or going, only outsiders," the matron of the retirement home told the security guard, in no uncertain terms. "Where they go and what they do is entirely up to our residents."

At dinner time, Amos was still missing.

The security guards began going over videos created by the monitors, but did not spot him in any of them.

"We will give him 48 hours, and then report him missing to the police," one said to the other.

Yvette sat alone throughout the day, acting quite normal. If she had missed him, she did show any signs of it. She did not mention him, or speak to anyone with respect to him. In fact, she did not speak to anyone. 

"I wonder how long it has been since someone did a reality check on Amos," the security guard commented to his young, female trainee.

"Reality check?"

""Oh. I am sorry. Of course, you would not understand that expression. It is the term we use it here to describe a non-professional or a professional mental health assessment. They are normally done routinely on seniors by everyone who works here. That way, we can report or investigate anything unusual. We need to know where their heads are at."

"I see."

Rumors quickly started around the retirement home, as everyone began wondering where he was. The security guards checked the grounds of the retirement home carefully, but found nothing. Gradually, they began to check the kitchen, laundry room, patio, pool area and anywhere else they he could be.

Even the residence doctor and nurse had no idea where he was, or where he might have gone. The matron checked her filing cabinet and discovered that he had retired from a local university, a number of years back. and suggested to her assistant that perhaps they might know where he was. She also discovered that he had a passport, but it was not in her filing cabinet.

"He has probably taken it out at one time or another. Remember that no one has to report where they go in this facility." She was getting quite miffed, as others kept on asking about his whereabouts.

The laundry room attendant reported that he had not sent any white shirts to the laundry, for quite a while. The police were notified of his absence at the end of forty eight hours. They began an investigation immediately.

Shortly thereafter, the young trainee reported what she thought might be a possible clue to his whereabouts, in a video tape.

"Who is this man?" she asked the security guard working with her. "I think that he is approximately the same size and build as Amos. I might be wrong. Here, I can see him leaving the building, but I don't see any footage that indicates he came in, either before or after that."

"This guy looks like a business man or even a a lawyer because of his bowler, suit and briefcase. He is wearing sunglasses which makes it difficult to be certain of his identity. I wonder why he would be dressed like that and where he was going. On the other hand, that might be a visitor. But, if that is true, then we should be able to find him coming in. Check that video tape again." 

Everyone agreed that it could be him, but no one knew for certain. Just in case it was, they e-mailed to the police and posted his picture in the lobby.

Yvette was heart broken when she spotted his picture, but no one could understand what she was saying.

"We had better get a translator for her," decided the doctor. "Now!"

The police spotted the same man boarding a plane destined for Europe in one of their videos.

Reality Check 6

"Come on, Tommy boy," ordered his wife Montana, a tall, slim, blonde bombshell with a Marilyn Monroe innocence about her. "Stop kidding around, Sweetie! It is time to go see the nurse for your blood work." 

Tommy and Montana were one of two couples who lived together in the retirement home. Tommy had been diagnosed with dementia several years earlier. He usually responded in a positive way, when she kidded around with him. This morning was different, as he was belligerent from the moment they awakened. 

"You keep on acting like that, Tommy and I will have you in a locked ward in a nursing home, so fast!" she thought to herself. "I know that I cannot do that, as I will wind up in court immediately."

Montana sat on the edge of the bed quietly, and waited patiently, while he dressed himself. She was extremely angry with him because of his increasing belligerence and stubbornness, but she knew from past experience that any expression of anger on her part, was totally wasted on him. In fact, it had been for a very long time.

"We can go listen to the canary down by the nursing station," she suggested, whistling softly to him, as she combed his thinning hair. "You look so nice!" she said, giving him a gentle hug. He no longer hugged her back. "Let's go!"

Moments later, Tommy had forgotten that she mentioned blood work.

"I never should have said blood work this morning," she thought to herself. "That was really dumb!"

"I am just a dumb blonde, but blondes have all the fun! Right Tommy?"

Tommy smiled and nodded, as if in agreement.

"I must remember never mention blood work to him again. Maybe that is what upset him and why he has been so ornery this morning?" she thought to herself.

Having married a much older man did have some advantages, because Tommy was very well to do. She stood to gain a sizable inheritance when he passed away, that is if his son and ex-wife did not dispute her entitlement to it. That was the reason she moved into the retirement home with him. She was determined to stay right at his side, for however long it took, and then she would be able to do whatever she wanted with the rest of her own life. She knew that every dream she had in life could come into reality, once she received her inheritance. 

What Montana had not bargained for was his dementia.

"I get so angry that I could kill him sometimes," she thought to herself. "I can think about it, but I cannot do it because life is sacred, and no one ever has the right to take anyone else's life."

Tommy stood in the open doorway, waiting for her. She took his hand and squeezed it, as they headed for the elevator.

Downstairs, Tommy sat down beside the cage and took delight in the canary's singing. The nurse spotted them and immediately came out of her office to take his blood. Tommy was so busy listening to the canary that he did not even seem to notice what she was doing.

"You look so wonderful today, Montana," said the nurse with a smile."Tommy, you are looking great too!"

"Thanks," replied Montana, as watched Tommy's face light up. Nowadays, life with him was not a lot of fun. She had nothing better to do all day than to look after him and do her makeup, hair and nails, while he slept.

"The doctor will be in at ten, if you want to come back then."

"Great," replied Montana. "Book us in."

"The doctor may want to do a reality check on you both," thought the nurse. "Montana looks too perfect today, but I can see by the expression on her face, something is amiss."

What the nurse did not tell Montana was that Tommy's son had called her, after talking to the doctor. He was in the process of making arrangements to have his father admitted to a locked ward on the Psychiatric ward of the local hospital. From there, he would go into a nursing home. 

The final decision would be made by his doctor. The son had legal documents to enforce it, if necessary. Jumping the gun, so to speak, he was in control of his father's estate, or at least thought he was.

Reality Check 5

"It is six am and time to go jogging," said Myrtle to herself. She was a large, highly energetic woman, in spite of her advancing age. She quickly got into her jogging suit and put on her runners. They did not have any shoe laces to tie. She did not like shoe laces as the cut off the circulation in her feet.

Myrtle headed for the woman's washroom, several doors down from where she lived in the retirement home.

"Thank God for my castle," she said, as she splashed her face with water. "I have the freedom to do anything I want here and no one to beat me up."

She smiled, thinking about being destitute and homeless after her husband went into bankruptcy and disappeared. "Well, almost anything."

There was no one around, so she quickly grabbed a peppermint from the white bowl sitting on the front desk, as she went by.

"I have diabetes, so I cannot have sugar, but when I go jogging, my blood sugar drops. I hope no one thinks that I am stealing them. Besides that, the health nurse told me it was a good idea and that there would be no problem, but the new girls around here for the summer don't like it when I do that."

Myrtle headed out the door, just as the health nurse was driving into the parking lot and waved, as she jogged past her.

"Dear old Myrtle," she thought to herself. "She is one spunky lady to say the least, and as regular as clockwork. I could set my watch by her."

"At exactly seven o'clock, I need my breakfast!" Myrtle had insisted to the matron in charge of the dining room. "Exactly seven o'clock and not one minute later!"

"Or what?" wondered the gray haired matron who tended to be tardy, at times. "Is this a threat? In this place, I need eyes in the back of my head, as I never know what is going to happen next. Myrtle was a transient, so we cannot throw her out even if she gets rowdy. I guess I could always call the cops and have her put in jail."

It was residents like Myrtle that made her job difficult.

"Oh, well! I am going to retire soon."

In the meantime, Myrtle's world was anything but a threat to anyone, but she had strict rules that she adhered to by the letter.
Having been in and out of the hospital many times because she was a brittle diabetic, she knew better than to relax the rules.

In Myrtle's reality, now the most important aspect of life was her health and enjoyment of life. For far too many years, her fun had been curtailed by a violent alcoholic, who continually beat her up every time he got drunk, which was at least once a week.

When he went into bankruptcy and left for good, it was a good thing, except that she became homeless when the mortgage company took everything they owned.

"How is Myrtle doing?" The health nurse asked the matron, who arrived several minutes before seven o'clock.

"She is late again," thought the health nurse.  "Myrtle is always so punctual."

Myrtle walked through the front door, just as the matron opened the dining room door.

"She is always a bit of a conundrum to me," replied the matron. "And she is a big woman too. I don't think I want to get on her wrong side."

"Maybe I should do a reality check on Myrtle," thought the health nurse. "Then I will find out what is really going on here. One thing about Myrtle is that she always tells the truth. Not so with the matron. Oh well, she will probably retire soon."

Reality Check 4

"This is a silhouette of adventure, a mystery  that no one will be able to understand," said Simon, smiling to himself, as he carefully tucked his lengthy manuscript under his mattress. "I understand what I wrote. No one else has to, as all of the genius minds in the world have put their thoughts in writing at one time or another. They have been misunderstood and many of their creative works are now considered to be far beyond their time."

Simon stretched out on his bed and relaxed, as he often did after completing a lengthy chapter on his novel. He realized that he was getting to be an old man, and knew that his time on this earth was relatively limited, but intellectually, writing still represented an ongoing challenge to him.

"That is what I want to dedicate my time to doing."

The elderly man did not like sharing his work with anyone, as negative criticism invariably forced him into doing re-writes, which he despised.

Simon would work long hours every day, often well into the night, avoid contact or interaction with other people and skip his meals. It usually did not seem to matter to him whether he showered or shaved, changed his clothes, had his hair cut or shined his shoes. In fact, nothing mattered to him except his writing.

"There is plenty of time for that later," he told himself, as well as his family and others who chided him for not taking better care of himself. "I will get around to that."

Simon had piles of old bills and loose papers scattered everywhere around the tiny room.

"They are not that important to me," he argued when anyone who suggested he needed to keep an eye on them or at least look at them more closely. "So what if some of them are checks? It is only money."

"Demonic obsession," his oldest son had called his preoccupation with writing. "This is insane!"

"According to you. I am a writer," Simon insisted, shaking his fist in his son's face. "Get out of here and never come back. Now!"

Simon suspected that his son had maligned him with virtually everyone else in his family. 'Trying to save face', he had told the rest of the family that Simon was fighting with everyone. Meanwhile, Simon was not fighting with anyone, but merely wanted to focus on his work.

It was three fifteen in the morning, when Simon sauntered out into the hallway towards the kitchenette. A tiny mouse spotted him coming and quickly scurried back into his hole in the floor board.

"Oh, you think I didn't see you, old friend?" Simon asked. "I know where you live."

On the way back to his room,  as he went by again, Simon 'accidentally on purpose' dropped a piece of cheese on the floor for him. The mouse quickly spotted it, ran out, picked it up and scurried back into hiding.

"The security guards would be very upset if they spotted me doing that."

Returning to his room and placing his sandwich on the desk, Simon quickly grabbed a towel and headed for the shower room. He needed a shave badly. "It is too late to shave tonight, old boy!" he decided, as he looked in the mirror. "No rush."

It was too late as one of the security guards had already picked up his activity on the retirement home monitor.

"He is feeding that mouse again!"

"What?"

"Simon is out and about," he told the chubby man working his first night as a security guard. "See, that is him in the hallway again."

"Is he with it?" asked the new security guard. 

"No one really knows for sure. He comes and goes whenever he likes and seems fine, at least as long as no one interrupts him when he is writing."

"What happens then?"

"He can get pretty angry and potentially violent, according to his son who says 'Simon fights with everyone'. I have never seen him angry with anyone or if he is, he certainly does not show it. Just leave him to do his own thing."

"Maybe he needs a reality check?"

"I would leave that to the experts," suggested the security guard. "Maybe after you have been here for a while."

Reality Check 3

It was almost midnight as a large, middle age, heavy-set woman with long, flowing red hair made the decision to go out.

 “It is just too warm to stay in here, Momma,” she said. “Maybe tonight is the night I will meet prince charming. He might be waiting outside for me with his golden carriage and six white steeds, right now. It would be so exciting to finally meet him!”

Her heart raced at the thought, as she carefully braided her hair and pinned the long braids on the top of her head.

“Perfect,” she said, as she put on black eyeliner and powdered her face. She put rouge on her cheeks and applied bright red lipstick to her lips. Her eyesight was deteriorating rapidly, so she overdid it a bit. “Momma, you promised I would meet him, someday! Maybe that someday is today.”

She looked in the mirror and blotted her lips with a large, white bath towel.

“No matter, there will be a fresh, clean one for me in the morning,” she muttered to herself. “When my prince kisses me, he is not going to be thinking about lipstick. He will kiss me, Momma! I know he will. Maybe he will kiss my hand first.”

The woman opened her tiny closet and pulled out a long, red dress with a lace trimmed neckline and short sleeves. She talked non-stop, as she got dressed.

“You made this dress for me, Momma. I know that I seldom wear it, but it will be cool on a hot night like tonight. My white shoes, gloves and sandals all fit perfectly. My prince will love seeing that everything I wear matches.Oh, where are my long white gloves? I need my purse, too!” she said, as she pulled them out of the small drawer of her only dresser. “I found them, Momma.”

Moments later, she headed out the door of her tiny apartment and headed for the front door. She walked right past a young, dark-haired woman mopping the long, hallway floor.   

“That is enough sweeping up cinders and washing floors for today!” she said. “You need to find your prince charming.”

“Rose is on her way out to meet her prince charming again,’ the cleaning woman reported to the night attendant of the retirement home, who was writing a report at the front desk. “She is all dressed up!”

“It’s almost midnight. I wonder if she realizes that the prince's golden carriage turns into a pumpkin at midnight, and that his white steeds become mice. Her Cinderella complex may be reversed.”

“She is probably afraid of mice. I must ask her that next time she walks by, as it never hurts to do a reality check,” said the young woman. "Maybe I should ask her about her sisters, too."

“Don’t worry too much about Rose, as she usually goes out every night. She only stays there for half an hour or so, never goes beyond the front gate and comes back content, and at peace with herself and Momma. By the way, her mother died about twenty years ago, but Rose keeps right on talking to her. She may ask you where Momma is. Occasionally she goes out looking for her at night.”

Reality Check 2

“I am never coming back!” yelled an old man. “I can’t, I won’t and you can’t make me. I am retired.”   

“That is fine,” replied a tourist walking by. He had no idea who the man was, why he was yelling, or what he meant. He looked more closely at the old man and realized he was probably just one of the locals, as many of the old men in this village fished for a living.

“Just relax. You do not have to go anywhere.” 

He quickly left to avoid any further encounters.

The old man’s tattered hat hid the salt rings in his glazed, red eyes. His face was wrinkled and sunburned after spending long hours on the water every day, for many years. He was weary and felt rough as it had been a trying day for him, one in which he had not been able to catch any fish.

“No fish for supper tonight,” he said to himself sadly, as he hobbled towards a wooden pier. “Or for anyone else either. I must be losing it.”

He walked down the pier towards an old boat he called home. In his mind, he had become homeless, or thought he was. He understood his survival as having to toss a baited fish line into the water every day to catch a fish or two. He would clean the fish, fry one to eat and then sell the rest to whoever would buy them. A few of the smaller ones, he would save for bait.    

“Home sweet home,” he said, as he entered his old boat and sat down in the cabin. “Tomorrow will be a better day, Colonel, I promise.”

He pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his battered, wooden box tucked under the table. “I will get you yet, Murphy!” he hollered again. He pulled a medal out of his pocket. 

“I’ll take one more swig for you, Colonel.”

He did not realize that two young boys had been watching him. One lived in the village and the other was just visiting. 

“I can hear that old man talking to himself,” a young boy whispered to his friend. “We were just in there and there is no one there.”

“You are right,” replied the other boy. “There is no one in there. Franklin fishes all day, every day and then  sits in the cabin for a while and has a drink of whiskey. Colonel is one of his old army buddies. Murphy is a huge fish Franklin has been trying to catch for years. It may be real, but maybe not. No one knows for sure. I come down here to check on him every evening around this time."

“Oh, so that is what is going on here.”

“We had better take him back to his retirement home before it gets dark, or he gets too drunk. We will have to holler his name as loud as we can, because he can hardly hear in one ear and cannot hear anything at all with the other.”

“Franklin,” hollered the boys together, as loud as they could. “Franklin!”

The old man quickly stashed his bottle, got up and went up on deck to see who was calling him.

“Sorry boys, I don’t have any fresh fish for you today.”

“That’s all right, Franklin. We are taking you out for supper tonight.”

The old man smiled and could not resist the temptation to go with them.

“Boys, that sounds wonderful! By the way, I told Murphy that I am never coming back. When I do that, he always comes looking for me. I will catch him tomorrow.”

The boys smiled, as they walked him back towards his retirement home.

“Hello Franklin,” the security guard at the gate said to the old man pleasantly. “How was the fishing today?”

The boys shook their heads and the security guard realized that it had not been a good day for Franklin.  

“No matter, I hear there are fish on the menu tonight, Franklin, come along with me and I will take you to the dining room. The girls will take good care of you there. Have you been drinking whiskey again? You need to go easy on that stuff, as too much of it will do you in.”

The boys smiled, waved goodbye and Franklin waved back.

“I appreciate you taking me for supper, boys! Thank you.”

“I know that fishing has always been your world,” the security guard said to him, as they walked along. “Do you have any idea how wealthy you really are?”

“I always lived on my boat, fished every day and getting wealthy was always my pipe dream,” said Franklin.

Inwardly, the security guard was frustrated, as he knew that the open gate policy for the retirement home had some distinct disadvantages.

“One of these days, the boys may not be able to find him,” he thought to himself. “He obviously has no idea that he is rich, but it never hurts to do a reality check now and then.”    

Reality Check

Slipping in and out of reality like bouncing around in a roller coaster, the crippled, elderly man with a long, silvery beard sat quietly on the edge of a park bench and smoked his long pipe.

“It is truly a magnificent world, my old friend,” he said with a smile, as he reached his gnarled, arthritic hands to caress the black violin case leaning against his right knee. “Just making sure you are still here.”

The soft spoken, gentle man, attired in a spotless white shirt, a striped grey tie and out-dated business suit gazed at his shiny, black shoes. Now and then, he pulled his pocket watch out of his vest pocket, as if there were urgent matters that needed his attention at a specific time.

After a while, he put out his pipe, cleaned it and placed it in his jacket pocket.   

“Who is that old man?” a young girl asked her mother, when he waved at them as they walked past.

“Never mind,” replied her young mother, pulling her daughter’s arm.    

“I like him!” the girl replied. Her mother said nothing and walked faster. “Mommy, I can not keep up with you!”

“Marley,” said the old man. “You and I have had a lot of good years together. I miss your canary voice, but I know that you are singing with the angels. May I listen in? You know I can hear you.”

He picked up his violin case, placed it carefully on the park bench beside him and opened it up. There was an old violin and a bow inside.

“Marley, your singing is so beautiful to my ears. Give me a moment while I tune up my violin and I will play something especially for you.” 

He took a box of rosin out of his pocket and rubbed it on the strings of the bow.

“There, that is so much better”.

He rubbed the rosin up and down his violin strings, as well. “Don’t tell anyone that I do that. It might give them a heart attack. Now I have to tune up my old friend.”

To a young man who walked by, it looked like he was chatting with someone sitting right beside him while he tuned his violin.

“I won’t disturb him,” the young man decided, as the old man seemed to be reasonably content. “I wish my world was that peaceful,” he said to himself as walked on.    

“Marley, do you remember me telling you that rosin comes from the sap of pine trees? In case I forgot to tell you, now you know. We had such beautiful pine trees and we used to sit under them together. Can you recall that? We were so much in love at that time and I have never stopped loving you. I never will either.”

Moments later, the old man began to play his violin with a sound so sweet and pure that it could melt anyone’s heart, but there was no one there to listen to it.

“Sing this song with me, Marley, the old man insisted. “You know how much I love to hear you sing.” He started to sing with a beautiful tenor voice, as he played his violin. In his mind’s eye, she was singing along with him too. “That sounds so beautiful, Marley. Never stop singing to me.”

A tiny bird on a nearby tree branch chirped happily, as the old man played his violin and sang one song after another.

“Marley, Sebastian is back sitting here in his tree again, singing along with us. He has been with us for so many years. I know you can hear him. If I remember correctly, he was the one who taught us to sing, right? Oh, those were the good old days.”

The old man began to play again, this time even more beautifully as he went through one old classic after another.

“Marley, one day they told me that I must have been born a gypsy, because only gypsies can play like that. We were pretty good dancers then too, remember? I can still picture you in your beautiful blue dress. Did I ever tell you that someone said you were a gypsy too? No one except me knew that you always preferred to dance in your bare feet. I have never taken my shoes off to dance. In fact, I almost never take them off except at bedtime. It is not that I did not want to go barefoot then. Oh, I guess I took my shoes off when we went swimming in the pond together. Sebastian, did you know that?”

The old man’s world was entirely his own, other than for Marley, the old violin he considered to a friend and Sebastian. To him, it was a real and a happy world where he was free, unlike the worlds of others who also lived where he resided.

“Our world is real, right Sebastian?” His eyes lit up. “Watch, Marley is dancing in her blue dress! Her feet are bare too. I know that you can see her.”

Sebastian chirped in response to his words. The old man knew every song by heart and just kept right on playing while Sebastian sang right along with him, for several hours.

“Marley, you still sing as sweet as a canary. You can sing for me forever. Sebastian, you are a good little singer too, but of course, you always have been.”

Finally, the old man put his violin away and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Mommy, that old man is still here. Can we talk to him now?”

“No, dear,” insisted her mother and walked by him, as quickly as possible.

The young man did not stop to talk to him either.

A short while later, a middle age woman wearing a nurse’s uniform came and sat down next to him. The bird fluttered away immediately.

“Have you been visiting with Marley and Sebastian again today, Pierre?” she asked the old man. “Let’s go. It is time for dinner and we cannot be late. Marley would not like that.”

The old man, smiled at her, as she helped him to his feet.

“May I carry your violin for you?” she asked him kindly.

The old man was not about to surrender his treasure to anyone and pulled away from her as she tried to take it. Pierre always insisted on carrying it himself. Together, they strolled back to the retirement home.

“Pierre is off in his own world again,” she told another nurse seated at the nurse’s station.

“Do you have his medication ready?”

 “I will bring it in shortly. Help him to wash his hands and face that then take him into the dining room,” she responded. “It is fine as long as he does not harm himself, or anyone else. It never hurts to do a reality check once in a while though.”