A friend called. And by a friend, I mean that she never calls or visits, unless she wants something. She is not so bad, she just doesn't need me. So, she called.
An elderly lady, Roberta, came back from Korea, where she was doing some missionary work. After a couple of months in the U.S., she fell and broke a hip. A doctor did an operation on her, and now she was in a convalescent home, wondering what to do next. She had no home in this country, but was eligible for MEDICAL AND MEDICARE (medical insurance), as well as the Social Security and SSI. For those of you in other countries, it means that she had a meager monthly income, but its better then nothing at all.
I met with her in the convalescent home. She looked tiny, although, in reality, she is pretty tall. The bones on her face were standing out, her prominent nose defiant and proud, dominating a face of a Holocaust survivor. As soon as I told her a little about myself, she said: "Yes, I want to live in your house. I can be ready in an hour." It took a couple of days, though, for Roberta to be discharged into my care.
My house was already set up for an elderly person. There were ramps at the porch and the exit from her room. It had her own bathroom, as well. She was especially glad to see the large TV and a hospital bed. From taking care of my dad, I knew a lot about the local doctors and the procedures for establishing a claim for the Social Security.
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