On November 22, 1985 I escorted several elderly ladies to a piano concert in Almonte. It began with dinner at Mrs. Marion Graham's house. Mrs. Graham just invited me and a youngish widow, Mrs. Simone Pope. I had immense difficulty opening the bottle of wine. Resorted to knives, screw drivers and even a hammer! I finally succeeded in smashing the cork down into the bottle, but not without spraying wine all over my suit, glasses and the kitchen walls! Dinner was excellent - chicken, smooth mashed potatoes, and gravy, vegetables and a delicious apple crumble dessert.
After dinner, I drove round to pick up Mrs. Gertie (“Trudy”) Coborn and Mrs. Dorothy Richardson, both elderly clients of mine. We then took in the concert, but not without the usual problems of getting elderly people in and out of the automobile.
Following the concert, we were invited to Mrs. Coburn's for drinks. And didn't they drink! None of the half-ounce business for them. They all had several drinks. Mrs. Richardson finally turned to me at one point and accounted that she was “...totally at sea, and didn't know what anyone was saying...”. She then expressed the wish to go to the bathroom, and stood up, but began drifting considerably. Mrs. Coburn then tried to assist Mrs. Richardson up the steep flight of stairs to the bathroom by pushing Mrs. Richardson's swaying backside with one hand. I then asked Mrs. Graham to assist Mrs. Richardson in the bathroom. I had last seen Mrs. Richardson drifting slowly by deliberately towards the bathtub. When Mrs. Richardson finally returned downstairs, I knew it was time to go. We all assisted Mrs. Richardson in getting her shoes off and boots on. I then practically shouldered her, and got her into the front seat of the car.
When we arrived at Mrs. Richardson's apartment building, I obviously had to escort her up yet another flight of stairs and into her apartment. I was still concerned about her having a possible fall, so I led her to her bedroom and helped her unravel her jewellery, unbuttoned her dress and left the room entreating her to disrobe and get into bed, which she did. When I came back into the room, I suggested she remove her glasses while sleeping, which she agreed was a good idea, between expressions of apology for her condition. Then I told her that I had written down my telephone number, put it on her bedside telephone table, and she was to call me at any time if she needed help. Then she said, “Well, who do I ask for?”. I replied, “Just ask for me. I live alone.” And she then staggered me by saying, “Who are you?”. That has to be the only time I have ever undressed a woman, put her to bed, and been asked who I was!
After dinner, I drove round to pick up Mrs. Gertie (“Trudy”) Coborn and Mrs. Dorothy Richardson, both elderly clients of mine. We then took in the concert, but not without the usual problems of getting elderly people in and out of the automobile.
Following the concert, we were invited to Mrs. Coburn's for drinks. And didn't they drink! None of the half-ounce business for them. They all had several drinks. Mrs. Richardson finally turned to me at one point and accounted that she was “...totally at sea, and didn't know what anyone was saying...”. She then expressed the wish to go to the bathroom, and stood up, but began drifting considerably. Mrs. Coburn then tried to assist Mrs. Richardson up the steep flight of stairs to the bathroom by pushing Mrs. Richardson's swaying backside with one hand. I then asked Mrs. Graham to assist Mrs. Richardson in the bathroom. I had last seen Mrs. Richardson drifting slowly by deliberately towards the bathtub. When Mrs. Richardson finally returned downstairs, I knew it was time to go. We all assisted Mrs. Richardson in getting her shoes off and boots on. I then practically shouldered her, and got her into the front seat of the car.
When we arrived at Mrs. Richardson's apartment building, I obviously had to escort her up yet another flight of stairs and into her apartment. I was still concerned about her having a possible fall, so I led her to her bedroom and helped her unravel her jewellery, unbuttoned her dress and left the room entreating her to disrobe and get into bed, which she did. When I came back into the room, I suggested she remove her glasses while sleeping, which she agreed was a good idea, between expressions of apology for her condition. Then I told her that I had written down my telephone number, put it on her bedside telephone table, and she was to call me at any time if she needed help. Then she said, “Well, who do I ask for?”. I replied, “Just ask for me. I live alone.” And she then staggered me by saying, “Who are you?”. That has to be the only time I have ever undressed a woman, put her to bed, and been asked who I was!
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