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Today’s Daily Prompt is describing a room with my greatest fear contained within.
The year is 2056. I am 102.
My old Swiss clock, that has been facing me for over thirty years, says 4:13. Through the ugly, dirty, beige shades, the day seems to want to sleep longer. The television is still on from last night, the only light in the room.
« Rain through the week », says the weatherman. As if I care!
Do I smell urine?
Life is so strange. One of the first things we learn in life is to pee in the toilet. But when we get old, the last thing you have to do is pee in the toilet!
« Sweety! No need to go to the bathroom, just do what you have to do in the diaper. That is what they are made for. »
Talking about the devil, here they are, stacked on the boring beige thing they call a dresser : diapers. Mine. How nice!
« I will come back to change it in a few minutes », they all say.
In a few minutes, in a few minutes. That means hours.
Didn’t we used to change a baby as soon as there was something in the diaper? We would bathe the baby after, put some cream and powder to avoid skin irritation. But, it looks like old people skin is much tougher than baby skin.
Why is that?
First thing, because they change our diapers not when it is full but when it is written in their calendar that it is time to change the dirty diapers. Secondly, because we get only one bath a week.
Imagine yourself having diarrhea, just once, and not be able to shower or bathe for a whole week after. And you wonder why it smells like shit around us, old and sick? Stop wondering. Now you know why. I wonder how many showers a week our governments’ health members take?
Did I say, life sucks?
It is funny how you can go from a big house to one small, tiny room, with a small wardrobe, a three drawer dresser and a small mobile table for the T.V., also booooring beige. That makes me wonder about something. If it is possible to live in a room like mine, how come we spend most of our best years working like nuts to afford a three story house? Good question…
Hummm…. Hummm… One small wardrobe…
Talking about the wardrobe, would you believe it but I still have my short pink winter coat and my matching snow boots in it. Icannot recall the last time I wore them. It must be years and years ago. Why are the still there? Maybe to give me a little sense of life? It is not working.
Then there is that dull dresser, the first drawer on top. Full of panties and bras. Same thing as the winter coat, useless!
Panties have been replaced by diapers. Sexy baby!
We are back in the 70’s where women threw away their bras. Nobody living here wears a bra. Too complicated when it is time to dress us.
Did you think that small breasts can sag?
Let me tell you! With that no bra thing, I do know now. Small breasts can sag. Life sucks!
Anyways. With all those useless garments, I realize that I can downsize even more than I have. Wow! Exit the boots and the winter coat, the panties and the bras! They say that we all die alone. I am almost there!
I used to think that time was running. Now, time is like me. Paralyzed…
It is still dark outside. It will be a rainny day, as the weatherman said.
That pillow is too flat. I should ask for a new one.
No! Look at my false teeth. Still filthy. Enough to choke. And they wonder why I close my mouth tight, so thight that even Godzilla could not open it, when they want me to put on my false teeth. y falses teeth? Can’t they see they stink! I am the one who should not see, not them. Helloooooh!
Did I say, life sucks?
You do not kow the last one. Fragile stomach, go for a walk. Those who chose to stay, better sit down.
There are cockroaches in my room. As I say. Cockroaches. Do you beleive this? It’s been going on for two months.
They say they come through the sink, another old baby. The pipes and the floor underneath are green like old copper.
I am furious!
Come on! I am not being fussy. Cockroaches have been living with me, in my small room, for over two months. It is not acceptable! Why can’t they kill those, those ugly… things… Just thinking about the word gives me goosebumps. Life really sucks!
What did we, old and sick people, do to deserve this, this life where we are not welcome anymore? A life where the old and sick are treated worse than animals, worse than cocroaches? A life where even families treat their old and sick without respect, dignity, preferring their toys? A life where old and sick people are maintained alive, in a life that sucks, against their will. Who would want to live that kind of life?
Not me, that is for sure!
This short story tells about my utmost fear : living the last days of my life in a room like my grand-mother did, as my father, as my mother.
The room described in my promt was the room where my mother spent her last years. She died in 2011. She had Alzheimer’s disease. The part with the cockroaches is true. I have a few other horror stories I could write about while she was « living » there. Maybe some other time.
My sister and I like to say that we had shared custody of our parents. One week each, booked, much in advance, in our Outlook calendars. We fought the system ; we cried much. We were desperate sometimes ; we laughed sometimes. But, most of all, we made our parents laugh during those difficult years. In the end, that is all that matters.