I thought I would hate it but now I appreciate it. When they began the policy here at the old folks home, of checking on us every two hours at night, looking in to see if we are in our beds and not on the floor, or worse.
I thought I would resent "Big Brother" opening my door, doing a "bed check", at 12, 2, and 4 am. (Well, 12:15, 2:15, and 4:15, because it takes the caregiver at least fifteen minutes to get to my room on his rounds.)But now I look forward to it. Now it seems like a friendly gesture, a bit maternal. Mommy is peeking to see if I am all right... for I have become, a great big, whiskered, wrinkled infant.
For instance, last night I slept in my easy chair. I become more congested with this darn cold when I lie down, so I sat up, all night and tried sleeping in my recliner. From the chair I cannot see the clock, and oh, how slowly the night creeps by. In the dark, unable to tell what time it is, I really looked forward to the caregiver's peeking in.
I wave, and he asks if I am all right, and I say yes. The infant in me is soothed. I can face another long lonely two hours in the dark.
Maybe I can train him to give me a pat on the head as well.