Altenheim
Last night, I went to bed early because the constant coughing exhausted me. At 11 pm, I was awakened by a loud scream. It was Walter; I thought he was having a nightmare. I bolted out of bed and ran to his bedroom. He wanted to go to the bathroom but fell down on the floor, flat on his face, and could not stand up. I had to ask the two lady cousins (81 and 84, respectively) staying with me in the house and my cook for help pulling him up. Once in the bathroom, he started singing—his way, perhaps, of coping with the trauma. It’s not an easy job running a home for the elderly, as one of my sisters calls my house. My other sister from Sidney is coming home on January 5. She is 71, so with me (75), Walter (pushing 76 in two months), and my two cousins, my cook (83), I will need to apply for government assistance to keep my Altenheim (Home for the elderly) running.