She lay in her bed, with a bible clutched in the hand not encased in a cast, speaking openly about her divorce. Despite her deeply religious views, the divorce seems to not bother her at all, other than strategically.
She answers her ancient roommate, “I’ll pray for us both to get better, so we can get out of here, but if that doesn’t work, we just have to live it, one day at a time.” The old lady starts to cry, and she speaks again, “Look at it this way, at least you got 50 more years than I did before you landed here. You’ve had a pretty good life, dear. We’ll get through this.”
That stops the old lady’s crying.
The two of them talk a lot at night. Neither sleeps well, but when you are bed ridden all day, as she often points out, how tired can you possibly get?
She’s 42, and this nursing home is her final stop, and she knows it.