Flower Child

 

After a two week stay, I graduated from assisted living respite care to inhabit my own independent living apartment. What a thrill to be back in my own space with my balcony door open letting in the warm breeze while my cat, Sammy,  snuggled on my lap purring to soothe my soul.

 

The thing about having good care is they know when something goes sideways. And so it was when I fell in the bathroom about a week after my surgery - bringing four helpers crowding around me in my bathroom. And then, two days later, sliding out of the leather rocker to sit on the floor with no way to get up on my own. These two incidents prompted a concerned call from the social worker who suggested I would need help when I returned to my apartment. Of course, my daughter concurred, so I agreed to give it a shot.

 

Visiting Angels began one day following my relocation.  A case manager held up all the various certifications showing compliance with oversight regulations.  One hour later, Faith, my angel, arrived.

 

She looked normal enough for an angel - tall with a simple ponytail and a soft, flowing dress festooned with flowers. But, the moment she opened her mouth, I thought something was a little off. For one thing, she began talking about a woman on the third floor who was in her care.  She was violating HIPAA rules that had just been held up so assuredly by the case manager. The case manager was stunned and excused herself out the door.

 

My time with Faith had only begun when she cocked her head and  coyly said, "Are you going to like me?” How does one respond to that?  So I forced a smile, but  I wanted to say that the question was a little premature.

 

 I asked Faith to unpack my bags from assisted living and do the laundry. She assured me that she did laundry very well. And, she did while she filled me in on her life.

 

She was raised by church missionaries in Mexico. Faith was the first daughter and second child of ten children. Her mother told Faith that she felt called by God to be fruitful and have lots of children. Faith thought this was a bad idea, and told her mother, “Enough with having kids. Stop with the babies!”

 

For a while, Faith lived in Ecuador with a private tutor to learn the language. It was there that she discovered her love of dance. She wanted to become a ballerina but finally settled on dancing the cha-cha.

 

Faith’s brother had a drug problem, and she found him hanging in his apartment. Her parents said it was suicide, But, since Faith saw him only partially clothed with a mark on his chest, she felt he was murdered by a drug dealer.