My dad had a spell in the nursing home before he died. Of course I was glad that he was able to go home after a few months. But I would go to join him and his table for dinner, or a visit most every night. He would say I didn't need to come, but what he didn't realize was that I really loved being there, at least at his table. It was he, two other guys and a very remarkable lady. I would alway gently try to coax some stories out of them, especially her. Good times for me.
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, doctordumbass@... <no_reply@...> wrote: > Barry's just doing his old transference number. He is plainly afraid of his behavior in his last days. I have met many, many old people, as I both worked in a nursing home, and visited frequently when my dad was dying. The ones afraid of death will often latch onto a target in their last days and harp on it, unceasingly, no matter what it is. Eventually, the ability to distinguish between what is real, and what is twisted by their hidden fears, becomes lost. >
