The doors opened, we got in, and turned around. Suddenly we heard a very loud and authoritative, “Hold that elevator!” As the doors hung open, a white-haired, wheel-chaired, older gentleman scooted towards us astonishingly quickly and efficiently with his feet. Zip! and he was in the elevator.
It had been a late-night visit with my mother at her assisted-living community. Mom had a broken hip, and we were checking in on the newly hired companion. All looked well, and after our brief visit, we had headed to the elevator to return home.
Something didn’t seem right. From that floor at that hour of the night this resident should probably not be getting on, but Gary and I just stood looking at each other in that elevator as he wheeled himself on board.
I joked out loud to our accompanying passenger, “Do you have your hall pass?” And with no reply but a scowl, I let him stay. As the elevator started its descent to the main floor, I was about knocked over by the smell that started filling the space. I began to question the wisdom of letting on our “friend” who, upon closer inspection, showed signs of needing supervision and who was very soon loose and unsupervised on the first floor.
When the doors opened and he shot out, I pursued him.
“Sir, what is your name”?
“Charlie Minter,” came the reply, loud, clear, and certain.
I looked around and noticed that all the main floor lights were off. It was way past anyone’s bedtime, and as Charlie paused in the middle of the hallway, I asked him what he was planning to do. It became apparent that Charlie himself didn’t have a good idea, either, what to do in a dark and closed lobby.
“Charlie, what are you planning to do?”
“I’m waiting for my wife.”
So while Gary watched Charlie , I went back upstairs to retrieve a nurse to come get him. My voice has a tendency to carry, so when I stood in the middle of the second floor hall and announced that a Charlie Minter was downstairs in the lobby, three nurses, including a supervisor, immediately popped out of nowhere and started to head with me downstairs to retrieve the wandering resident of the Health Center.
Charlie was resistant. He didn’t want to leave the appointed meeting place with his wife. I wondered: what was Charlie planning to do, meeting in the dark with his wife? Was this a pre-planned rendez-vous?
The nurses quickly convinced Charlie that his wife was in fact waiting for him upstairs and he needed to come with them. I sensed his reluctancy but also his interest in seeing his wife.
Later, Gary and I just chuckled at the idea of this old guy seeing his opportunity to escape the second floor to find his beloved, as well as at the speed in his body contrasted with his mental confusion. Confused, perhaps, except for that focus in seeing his wife.
Later in the week, I saw Charlie and his wife together, engaging in the activities at the assisted-living center. It was clear to me that the wife wasn’t a resident on the second floor but was spending time with Charlie. Seeing Charlie was like seeing a friend with whom I’d shared a covert adventure. It’s our secret, Charlie. You made it out of the big house.
Gary and I felt somewhat guilty for letting Charlie on to the elevator, but he sure had spoken with clarity and conviction, and that’s what we had followed…
*Names changed to protect the clever