 |
| Blankenese view |
I slept badly last night, in contrast to the night before. I don’t think I’ll ever accustom myself to the German custom of sleeping with a heavy duvet covering even in the heat of summer. It’s not at all cold right now, somewhere — in the mid-60sF — but people continue to have heat on in their houses and other buildings continue running heat. And when we walked to the park yesterday and again walked outside this morning, W. and K. insisted we bundle up and have neck scarves against the cold. Everyone we encountered was dressed that way.
With the temperatures so mild, the heat on in the apartment (and everywhere else), and only a bit of relief from the window that is slightly cracked open in our bedroom, I wake up drenched in sweat under the duvet. I learned last night that I can manage the heat of the cover a bit by pulling it up only to my knees, but even then, it’s heavy and stuffed and sweltering to sleep under. Both yesterday in the park walk and today on our walk, I became drenched with sweat and carried my jacket in my hands rather than wore it.
Our excursion today was to see E. K., whom, again, we last saw twenty-five years ago. He’s now in a care facility, his wife having died. W. tells us on some of his visits to see E., E. is not totally coherent, and he’s sometimes so withdrawn that he balks at talking.
Today was apparently a good day. He knew both of us and sat talking to us and W. for several hours, though very haltingly. I invited W. and K. to speak German and not English for our sakes, but they politely persisted in speaking English to include us. And I wondered if communicating in a language other than his own, though he’s totally fluent in English, might have been a strain for E.
He told us he has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, and that it affects his mental faculties to a certain extent. I noticed that as he talked or answered a question, he tended to start speaking and then zone out, as if he were contemplating some grand mystery, and only with difficulty reconnected to his train of thought.
Not sure what more to say about that visit, except 1) I’m glad we made it, and 2) it’s deeply sad that if we live long, we very often end up alone, infirm, in a nursing home, just waiting. Waiting for the inevitable end….
As nursing homes go, I have to say, this one seemed extraordinarily clean, with lots of natural light and airy hallways. It’s a church-affiliated place, Tabea, in western Hamburg near or in Blankenese. All the employees, several of whom came into E.’s room for one reason or another as we sat talking, seemed very competent and cheerful. But, even so, a waiting room with only one exit…and that’s very sad.
 |
| Blankenese laneway |
From E.’s place, we took the same bus we had ridden for three-quarters of an hour to reach E. and ended up in Blankenese, where we planned to walk down the winding steps leading to the Elbe and walk along the Elbe. But as we did that, the weather took a dreary turn and rain began pelting down, so we turned around and headed back to the S-bahn station and made our way back home.
After we’d eaten another dish of the meal of the previous day, the curried chicken and fruit dish, we napped as W. and K. dressed to go out for dinner with friends. W. and K. asked Steve and me to rifle through the refrigerator and eat anything we found for evening meal. I’ve just finished a slice of nice dark bread with smoked ham, an Austrian cheese, and a small tomato, followed by strawberries and a few spoonsful of yoghurt. And that delicious merlot from the southeast of France….
 |
| Blankenese scene |
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment