Nursing homes

I hate nursing homes. God do I hate them. They are one of the saddest, most depressing places you can go.

But I'll tell you what. Do not *ever* refuse to go to one if someone you know is there, whether it's a grandparent, grandparent-in-law, or even your own parents. I don't care how uncomfortable it is for you to see them like that, or to see the other people that live there. Just imagine what it is like for them to live there. Then imagine what it's like for them to get visitors.

My grandfather was in a nursing home for a while, and I always dreaded going there. When I did go, I always went with my mother (it was her father). I don't think I could have handled going by myself. We never said much to each other (he was pretty deaf), but he always seemed happy to see us. And afterward, I was always glad I had gone.

I mention this because over the weekend we took my wife's grandmother to see her brother. He had just gotten out of the hospital and was moved into a nursing home. She (grandma) doesn't get around well, so I'm glad we could help her. Harlan (her brother) was pretty weak, and I could hardly hear him speak, but I swear I heard him say something about "the doctors put two pounds of brains in my head." There was a bit of stunned silence, then we just smiled and nodded.

If I had any guts I'd visit nursing homes on a regular basis, just to provide "the inmates" (as my grandfather called them) a little company.