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Show 12 When Elsa is gone I hang Sadie's lace-yoked dressing gown back on i t s peg; and dispose of the emptied colostomy bag I invariably find in the bathroom. In the bowl on the dresser I find something new: an old gold watch, inscribed with what I think are Elsa's i n i t i a l s and those of someone else. There is a photograph, too, of Elsa and her husband and a young hunting dog: it must have been taken f i f t y years ago. * * * In the morning I walk across the street, past the chapel, to the nursing home. I climb the unnecessary set of steps (which I have always believed function to keep those who are put inside to stay inside), enter through the glass-fronted door, dismiss from recognition the faint odor of urine circulating in the air. The sign in the lobby reads: "Today is Thursday, February 8." "Today's games are bridge, checkers, and pinochle." "Today's lunch is at 12:00." After some years of coming to the GoldenGlow, I find that I too am sometimes confused about what day it is, and the sign is no longer so offensive as I first thought. I receive the usual diverse reception: a number of the patients smile or reach out to me; the floor nurses stiffen and turn away. Judd, the director, does not seem to be around; I like to see him, because-although he never mentions it-I think he understands. It is Judd, after all, who has protected me from the embarrassing fact of Sadie's death in my bed. I spend the morning visiting two ancient women who have been my friends; one has broken her hip, and is confined to bed; the other has simply grown so |