Warrington, PA
Arrived at 6:30 pm Friday evening after a looooong drive through VA, WV, MD, and PA. When I got to within a couple of miles, I called Florence and then bought dinner for both of us at Red Lion Diner on the corner of the road to her house (County Line Road)—chopped steak, mashed, mac ‘n’ cheese, applesauce for Flo; ckn parmesan for me with mixed veggies.
Was shocked when I got to Florence’s. Sarah (Florence's neice) has stripped the condo of her things, so Flo does not have any pots or pans and no tea kettle, plates, or other basics. We had cocoa (heated water in the microwave) and cinnamon bread for desert. Florence gets most of her meals--but not breakfast--delivered by Meals on Wheels she told me. In her refrig were two pieces of white Wonderbread in a Ziploc that proved this.
We gabbed for awhile and then went to bed at about 9:30. Florence said that she hadn’t dared tell me that there was no bed for me when I called. She was afraid that I wouldn’t come. So sad! I slept on the couch as it is the only furniture save a d.r. table and Florence’s bedroom stuff that is left. The condo is up for sale.
It is snide of me, I know, but I believe that one of the reasons that Mike moved Florence from her lifelong home in Oklahoma to a 55-and-older condominium community nearer to him in Pennsylvania was so that his daughter--who is far from 55--could move into a condo there near her work. Florence had to have a foot amputated several years ago and is in a wheelchair. Now the daughter has moved out and Florence is stuck in a two-story condo with basement. The Condo community will not allow bird feeders (Florence's lifelong pasttime has been birdwatching). She can access only her b.r, the l.r., the lower levels of the kitchen, and the toilet and sink in her bath. Mike promised to make her bathroom handicap accessible but has not. Florence cannot bathe in it, so a woman comes in once a week to help her bathe. A deck from the kitchen remains unconstructed, the kitchen sliding doors opening to a four-foot drop to the backyard. Since there are steps into the attached garage and a sloping front lawn with steps to the front door, Florence cannot get out of the house. I shudder to think of fire or some other emergency. I think it is elder abuse but Florence never has an unkind word to say re her family or her situation.
It is snide of me, I know, but I believe that one of the reasons that Mike moved Florence from her lifelong home in Oklahoma to a 55-and-older condominium community nearer to him in Pennsylvania was so that his daughter--who is far from 55--could move into a condo there near her work. Florence had to have a foot amputated several years ago and is in a wheelchair. Now the daughter has moved out and Florence is stuck in a two-story condo with basement. The Condo community will not allow bird feeders (Florence's lifelong pasttime has been birdwatching). She can access only her b.r, the l.r., the lower levels of the kitchen, and the toilet and sink in her bath. Mike promised to make her bathroom handicap accessible but has not. Florence cannot bathe in it, so a woman comes in once a week to help her bathe. A deck from the kitchen remains unconstructed, the kitchen sliding doors opening to a four-foot drop to the backyard. Since there are steps into the attached garage and a sloping front lawn with steps to the front door, Florence cannot get out of the house. I shudder to think of fire or some other emergency. I think it is elder abuse but Florence never has an unkind word to say re her family or her situation.
Speaking of which, Florence, who is afraid of cats, is feeding two of her granddaughter, Sarah’s cats—indoor cats. Apparently Sarah could not take them to her parents’ B & B in Bucks County when she divorced and returned home, though she did take her dog and two other cats. (Why Florence was not invited to live with her son and family in their big multiple bedroom B & B is beyond me.) Florence thinks she may be allergic to cat hair. I wanted to take the cats to the pound, but Florence wouldn’t let me. She is sure her granddaughter will find a place for them when she gets “settled.” In the meantime the cats skulk around and inhabit the furnished basement for the most part.
I called C2C Diane, she who suffered the head injury the day I suffered the concussion, and she is still having balance problems and now having problems finding a neurosurgeon, speech therapist, cognitive therapist, and PT to attend to her needs. She is making no progress medically and her children have practically confined her to bed because they are afraid she will fall and injure herself further. I gave her Tony Baltes’s phone number, which she asked for.
I borrowed a towel from Florence and took a shower in the vacant upstairs bathroom. Brought down a lone little pole lamp I found up there as there are not even any lamps left—just overhead lighting. It brightened the d.r. where the table and chairs are. Florence needs a lot of light because she has macular degeneration. Her eyesight has degenerated to the point that she cannot use the computer easily. This is bad, because, besides birds, her lifelong interest has been in her family's genealogy. She daily organized, wrote, and researched her genealogy on the Internet.
Mike came for us on Saturday morning and treated us all to breakfast at the Red Lion. I had scrapple, a distinct PA treat. Sarah and her 2-year-old daughter Gabrielle met us there. Sue Ella stayed home in bed. Sarah was flying to Alaska at 5 that afternoon and is divorcing her husband, Newton, a Brazilian who seems to have married her to gain entry to the US. He looks unhappy even in the wedding pix, which still adorn the walls here.
The group was very uninviting, Sarah talking only of herself and her plans in a teenagerish "like, you know" recitation and not drawing in her grandmother or me. I found this odd because Florence is a master at remembering all the small details of one's life and making people feel included and comfortable, but apparently this skill is not passed on.
We ate late so no lunch for the two of us. We both took naps, I more to help Flo stick to her routine than because I was tired. Florence sorted her medicines into their appropriate kinds in her medicine holder. Around 4 she watched a couple of game shows on TV and I with her.
I feel sad at the way Florence's last years are turning out. Florence has the mind of a youngster and the interest of one too, yet she is shut away in a community that does not allow bird feeders, in an empty house that she cannot get out of, with a bathroom she cannot manipulate in her wheelchair, and with one visit a week for breakfast at the Red Lion each Saturday with her son, Mike to look forward to.
