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Donald's Thanksgiving, by Kathleen Capraro


 Who knew that my husband Paul and Donald would become buddies?  They were roommates who shared a very small room for over one year at Duxbury's Bay Path Nursing Home.  Visits by me to both of them occurred daily.  I would not know I was in a nursing home when I opened the front door.  But when I pressed the second-floor elevator button and the door opened, I was overwhelmed with the mixed smells of bleach, disinfectant, stale food, and body odors.

Donald and Paul were the perfect roommates.  There was only one tv in the room and it belonged to Donald.  Luckily they both liked to watch the same program on Donald's tv - mainly sports.  When I walked into their room each day, the volume was always set at 100 and I could hear the blasting tv from way down the hallway.  The three of us watched "The Price is Right" every day - our favorite show.  When each prize was shown, we had to guess the price and the one who came the closest won.  If a living room set was show-cased, Donald would yell out "$300," Paul "$1000" and I would always win with my higher bid.  My two guys got so excited when a new car was featured.  At the end of the show, we'd laugh and clap.

Paul loved to go out to lunch and we did go out often.  I'd just ask him - "Paul do you want to go out to eat?" and next thing he'd be zipping down the hall.  Because of liability issues, I could not take Donald - so instead, brought him back something.  When I asked Donald if he'd like me to bring him back a Big Mac - he'd always say:  "No, bring me two."

 Donald would "squeal" on Paul by telling me the minute I entered their room:  "Paul's been scratching his legs again" and Paul would glare at him and roll his eyes.

 Thanksgiving was soon upon us and we decided to spend our Thanksgiving at Bay Path.  Of course dinner was at noon. We even had to make reservations for the big day.  When I arrived shortly before noon, both my guys were all spruced up and looking good.  I begged Donald to join us for Thanksgiving dinner but he proudly said "No, my son is coming to pick me up to spend the day and dinner at his home."  Donald did have a son who lived in Duxbury and a daughter who lived in Plymouth but I never saw them and nurses told me he never had visitors.  So Paul and I left that room with Donald sitting on the side of his bed waiting in his red and black checkered jacket and holding his cap in his hand.  Paul and I had one of our best Thanksgiving that day and enjoyed our dinner with a "young" lady in her 50's named Anna and her mother Ruth.  We all laughed heartily and swapped stories and talked of past Thanksgivings.  The four of us were the last to leave the dining room at 4 pm.  We "closed the joint down," we all said.

 Of course, at this point, Paul was over-ready for his nap and so the two of us took the elevator to the second floor and went into their room and there was Donald still sitting on the side of his bed in his red and black checkered jacket and holding his cap in his hand waiting for his son.  My heart sunk and I said to Donald  "Can I go to McDonald's and get you a Big Mac?   But he said:  "No, my son, I know, is on his way."  Like a child - he had this incredible faith and I hoped and prayed all the way home that he was right.

 The next morning, I spoke to the nurses about Donald and they were so angry.  The head nurse, Margaret, said to me:    "Donald sat on the side of his bed all day and at 7 pm, the son called and said he could not make it."

 My heart was broken.  Something inside me changed that day.  What should I have done?  It haunts me to this day.

 And so, it came to be, that every Thanksgiving from then on, I toast to Paul and Donald, both long gone.  I remember them fondly - each in his own bed - yelling out answers to "The Price is Right."


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