I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. Even wrote a couple of entries. Someday I may post them.
Six years ago today I entered my first nursing home, Amal BaSharon in Ranana, Israel. I was 53 years old at the time, so I was quite amused to hear the day nurse tell the evening nurse that I was young and innocent.
The first day I was on a ward for people who couldn’t talk, but when I moved upstairs, I got to experience the life of a hot chick. I was more than 20 years younger than anyone else on the ward, and that was all I needed. Men were coming up to me all day long, wanting to talk with me and offering me food from their private stash. A 90+ year old man who had the only private room even invited me to check out his bed. (I didn’t.)
Initially I enjoyed the attention and the crackers, but after awhile having men constantly approaching me got to be a bit much. I was relieved when things settled down and I could rest when I wanted to without being bothered. Still I am glad for the experience and I developed an unexpected sympathy for the trials of super-attractive girls.
Escape From the Nursing Home 