Back when we lived in those shithole apartments, there was an older gent with a quickly degenerating brain.
Each time he’d see me, he’d ask my name. And I’d tell him my first name.
He’d respond “oh, like Roman Polanski?”
By the third time, it got old having the same conversation over and over again so when I saw him from a distance, I’d walk the dog elsewhere.
Yes. I felt bad for the guy. He was obviously lonely. But when I walked the dog, it was usually before work or after work and before I started dinner. So it wasn’t like I had a lot of time, especially to have a circular conversation.
When I wasn’t in so much of a hurry, I’d actually stop and talk with him. It was sad. Each time we’d converse, I could tell his brain just got a little bit worse.
I imagine he’s dead now. Or if still alive, hopefully he ended up in a nursing home that didn’t totally suck.
Watching folks die
Nursing homes are horrible ways to go. I could tell you this firsthand. I worked in one.
Although I worked in a high end one. You know, the ones for richer folks.
We had an excellent chef. Poor guy did it for the love of food even though more than half of them couldn’t appreciate his talents.
They usually complained about the spice levels. For some, it was too much. For others, it wasn’t enough.
I’ve read somewhere that taste buds die as you age. Well, not sure how exactly that works because a lot of those older folks had oversensitive taste buds.
Whatever the case, I watched people die in different ways. Some folks died in their sleep peacefully. Others degenerated quickly. And yet others had healthy bodies but their brains were shot.
Like that guy who kept saying “oh like Roman Polanski?” He wasn’t too much older than me. Still a healthy body. But his brain? Going fast.
That’s one of my biggest fears, folks. I don’t want to die like that. I don’t want to die in a home. Thus, the copious amounts of coffee.
I talked about Grandma who lived to be almost 102 and still had a good 95% of her brain’s sharpness. She could kick your ass at bridge up until almost the very end when she could barely use her hands. Her brain though? Still sharp.
I’ll write more on that another day but for some odd reason while waiting for this layer of paint to dry, that “oh like Roman Polanski” guy entered my head and I wanted to write about him.