If you don't believe people in Nursing Homes consider themselves "Inmates" akin to being in Prison then you've not spent enough time in one or are kidding yourself that the money you spend is giving your loved one everything Mom or Pop ... or Son or Daughter ... need to enjoy life.
As nice as Nurses and workers may be ... the Inmates remain locked inside and under close supervision when they're out.
Anyway, I'm working the room ... saying hello to both the conscious and the unconscious ... the drooling and the dry.
"Hey Mike!" half exclaim loving the hug or handshake, full of joy we actually returned for another show.
The other half remain silent in their wheelchair or laying their head on the table like a sleeping child in school and when I hug them or touch them ... they do nothing ... already more dead than alive.
A white haired woman who I'm fond of sits alone staring at her hands and as I hug her, she jumps in surprise and with guarded eyes, says, "WELL ... I'M MARTHA! WHO ARE YOU?"
The world stops spinning for a moment ... I'm transported to another Universe ... away from the cold routines of Oceanside ... into the place of "Shock."
She knew me last week ... called me by name ... told me how thrilled she is that I'm back ... and asked for her favorite song.
Now she's crossed some line ... drawing closer to forgetting this life ... preparing, I suppose, for the next one.
My wife is the Director of the Alzheimer's Association and has taught me a great deal about things I'd preferred to not know.
Growing at an alarming rate, people with Alzheimer's Disease already eclipses most everything else combined.
Later as I sing her favorite, "We're going up, up, up but I'm going to climb a little higher ..." Martha sits there oblivious ... staring at her hands ... and my voice breaks a little over the words ... because I see ... she's already go
