What Was Missed

Two weeks ago at the nursing home I showed up in my usual work outfit, took my coat off, and sat down. I felt super lucky because the staff needed me at my old table, situated between sometimes spunky Lorraine and a very sleepy Dorothy. In fact, it was shades of having old Mattie there, barely responding to me as Dorothy reflexively accepted food into her mouth. But I was still happy to be back and made lots of jokes with the ladies at the table, half of whom only barely responded to me.

One of them, a newer member of the table by the name of Leola, had never said a word to me any of the nights I visited. Two weeks ago it was no different. She always looked right at me when I talked to her across the table, or maybe she looked through me, but she never talked. I didn't think much of it because that wasn't too unusual, I'm ignored on a pretty regular basis there. Just like when I go home. Then, when I finished feeding Dorothy and stopped trying to coax Lorraine to finish her fish, I got up and put on my coat while telling my table good-bye and be good. As I adjusted my winter scarf, Leola looked at me and said, clear as a bell, "Hey, Deb Ellis." She called me by my first and last name, which meant she was able to read the small name tag I wore every week, from all the way across the table. At no point was I close to her, so I was flabbergasted. "Leola, you can read my name tag from there? You're not even wearing glasses! That's amazing!" And then I jokingly added, "Are you wearing contacts?" but she didn't laugh. She continued, "I wanted to tell you I like your outfit." I was speechless. Not only did she have sharper eyes than most people half her age, but she commented on something relevant. I thanked her enthusiastically and the nurse told me, "Leola is really sharp, she's on the ball." I couldn't visit the home last week due to work, but I'm looking forward to seeing Leola again. As you can imagine, she's my new favorite.