This Evening at Lieberman

When I arrived, Gregory was already at dinner. When he saw me, without the usual delay in focusing time he loudly said, "Oh, so you did come!" He was very pleased to see me then cried the requisite "Tears of Joy." He was very present, in a good mood, and ate what seemed like a triple portion of spaghetti and meat sauce, green beans, and mandarin oranges for dessert.

Batia, one of Gregory's table mates was complaining to me that the chair (wheel chair) was not cooperating. It was as if someone had "pulled out the bottom and I can't make heads or tails of it." I tried to help her sit further back in the chair but to no avail. I folded up four or five cloth napkin/bibs to make a sort of back support. She cooperatively leaned forward and I placed the "pillow." I asked how that felt and she said it did some good but not enough. I went back to Gregory's room and grabbed one of his extra pillows, brought it into the dining room and placed it behind Batia's back. "Much better," she told me, "Where did you get your training?"

Martha was having trouble using her arthritic hands to maneuver her fork around the long strands of spaghetti. I offered to help and this time she accepted. I cut the strands into smaller pieces, mixed them with the meat sauce, and asked her to try. She was able to scoop up a mouthful and seemed grateful. To distract from the situation and to soften her need for help, I stated, "You know I was a waiter many years ago." "Oh," said Martha, "That makes sense." A bit later when she was eating her oranges, I asked her what her favorite fruit was. She thought for a moment, giggled, and said, "I am so old and tired that I do not have a favorite!"

Haroon was sitting at a table just behind us. I gave him my usual smile, head nod, and a whispered "Hello." "F U C K   Y O U ! ! !" was his usual response. I smiled and said, "Thank you."