085. Old
Aging is Inevitable
The staff at the nursing home had a tendency to brace themselves and metaphorically gird their loins before they went into Room 28. The old man who lived in there had one of the sharpest tongues they'd ever encountered and he never hesitated to unleash his brand of sardonic, sarcastic humour on whoever ventured into his domain, which considering he was confined to a wheelchair was quite a number of them. He also never failed to berate them thoroughly if he thought they made a mistake either and he'd even driven some of the younger volunteers from the room in tears on more then one occasion.
The staff tolerated the old man's foibles because in spite of his temper and sarcasm, he'd done them more than one good turn. He'd been a doctor once. None of them knew what kind of doctor, he'd never told them, but he certainly seemed to know a lot. He'd saved Mrs Kerry's life shortly after he arrived, telling the staff to get over to her a full minute before she collapsed with a heart attack and when it turned out that the only staff available were volunteers with the minimum of training, he'd talked them through how to do CPR. He'd done it with a fair leavening of sarcasm and condescension and with the distinct air of a man who'd much rather have shoved them aside and done it for himself but his instructions had been clear and concise and he'd kept the two young women calm and working until the nurses and paramedics arrived. He'd then completely shrugged off the thanks from the staff and Mrs Kerry herself, getting quite cranky when anyone persisted.
The female staff all agreed that he must have been quite handsome when he was younger though they also all agreed that he was still very distinguished. His eyes were a lovely shade of blue and his thinning, slightly curling hair was steel grey. The nurses reported that he had some kind of leg injury with associated chronic pain, which was why he was in the wheelchair but none of them knew the details of what had happened. None of them dared to ask; they all suspected that doing so would end up in a vitriolic rant that would have them emulating those unfortunate young volunteers.
Unlike many of their residents, the old man got quite a few visitors. It was sad really, how many of the old people in their care had been more or less dumped there by relatives who would then make obligatory visits maybe once a month and stay no longer than fifteen minutes. The old man was a glad exception to that rule. The most infrequent visitors were two women who visited every now and then, though never together.
One always called the old man House while he called her Cuddy and they'd snap and snark and banter with each other, with the old man making lewd and lascivious comments and the old woman laughing at them, much to the staff's surprise, and responding with tart comments that made the old man laugh in return. They always liked her visits because once she was gone the old man would be in a good mood for a while, his blue eyes alight with amusement. The staff had the impression that at one time the two of them had worked together.
The other old woman who visited called the old man Greg and those visits were always unpredictable and as such the staff were never entirely sure whether they were pleased to see her or not. Sometimes the two of them would spend their time talking quietly, seemingly reminiscing, laughing and poking fun at each other. Those were the good visits. They'd leave the old man mellow and smiling. But occasionally the visits weren't that good. The two of them would start arguing, quiet, hissing words, her eyes snapping angrily, his blazing. Those visits always ended with the old man yelling at the woman to get out. Occasionally he'd try and get up from his wheelchair. He always failed and collapsed back into it, his face white with pain and taut with anger. The woman would storm out, leaving the staff to deal with the angry man though more than once they'd seen an old pain in his eyes after she left that had nothing to do with his leg.
There were others who visited. Three were regulars, in and out a few times a month. All three were around the same age and looked to be about twenty years younger than Dr House. They were all doctors and one at least was quite well known. Dr Foreman was a renowned neurologist, top of his field though word was that he was considering retirement. He was the most common visitor of this group of three. He and the old man had an odd relationship. There seemed to be a considerable amount of respect between the two but they still seemed to spend most of their time arguing and haranguing each other with what seemed to the staff to be the most shocking kind of personal abuse. Dr Foreman always left a variety of medical journals with Dr House with a mocking comment about keeping a senile mind busy that inevitably made the old man laugh.
The other two didn't come quite as often but they were still there at least a couple of times a month. One was a soft-spoken Australian called Dr Chase, the other a kind woman called Dr Cameron. Both seemed to have a similar relationship to the old man as Dr Foreman. There was always a great deal of what sounded like abuse that all of them seemed to find terribly amusing, as though it was an old game that they played. All three largely tended to leave Dr House in a good, if somewhat pensive, mood so they were welcomed with smiles and cheerful hellos.
But their favourite visitor was another old man, Dr James Wilson. He came nearly every second day. He looked to be about ten years younger than Dr House and he was still handsome in a surprisingly boyish way for such an old man. He always charmed the staff, particularly the women, which always led to Dr House making some particularly sarcastic remark. Dr Wilson never got fussed about it, he would just roll his eyes and, on the days when the weather was good, he'd insist on going outside. He would come in the morning and spend most of the day. For a long time the staff didn't understand why Dr Wilson came. The old man seemed to save up some of his most sarcastic and biting comments for the other man but Dr Wilson never got upset. Mostly he just rolled his eyes and sigh, sometimes he'd laugh and often he would give back as good as he got.
It wasn't until Dr House had been there for nearly a year and a half that the staff found out why Dr Wilson was such a good visitor. The two men were out in the garden, heads close and bantering loudly as one of the nurses approached with Dr House's medication. Dr House had just said something utterly scandalous about one of the women who visited, causing Dr Wilson to tilt his head back and laugh uproariously. Dr Wilson had then looked at Dr House with open affection on his face.
"I dare you to say that to her face," he'd said.
Dr House had grinned, an expression that made him look years younger and surprisingly mischievous.
"She may be getting on in years but she'd still got the best breasts I've ever seen. I told her that last week."
Dr Wilson had laughed again. "I miss that,' he'd said, suddenly pensive. "I miss you."
"You're here practically everyday," Dr House had said dryly. "Don't know how you manage to miss me."
Dr Wilson's smile had been gentle but tinged with wistfulness. "I meant at night. The bed's very empty without you hogging the sheets."
Dr House had snorted but the nurse had seen the same wistfulness on his face as well.
"You're the one who didn't want to move into a nursing home yet," the old man had said acidly, belying his expression. "And you can't lift me anymore."
Dr Wilson had rolled his eyes. "The only nursing home that had a double room was too far away for you. We've got first dibs on the first double room to open up here."
The nurse hadn't wanted to disturb them but medication schedules waited for no one. She'd taken several steps back then walked forward again, far more noisily than before, deliberately stepping on a stick. In spite of the fact that she'd been yelled at by Dr House just two days before, she had found herself quite charmed by the conversation between the two men and the revelation of their relationship.
The staff looked forward to Dr Wilson's visits. Although Dr House tended to be a bit snappish after the other man had left, he was still easier to deal with those nights.
But the best times came when Dr Wilson's visits coincided with the visits of Cuddy or Drs Foreman, Chase or Cameron. The trio and sometimes more, however it was constructed, would be loud and snarky, sarcastic comments and amusing banter flying back and forth until some of the other residents would complain about the noise. Dr House always seemed to be in his element at those times, arch and imperious, snide and amusing, sarcastic and droll, and the others seem to slip back into well-worn roles with a certain amount of delight.
It was the general consensus of the staff that the day that a double room came free and Dr Wilson moved in permanently was one of the best, most interesting and most irritating days they ever experienced. Dr House had been rude, annoying, sarcastic and constantly in the way and by the end of the day more than one member of staff had been willing to strangle him. They'd seen Dr Wilson eye the staff with an experienced weather eye and hustle Dr House into their new room, wheeling him inside in spite of all his protests. But even the most irritated of staff had softened when the two old men had been discovered later that evening when dinner was being served asleep in their new bed. Dr Wilson was lying on his back with Dr House curled up around him, one arm lying limp on his chest and his bad leg thrown over his lover's legs. Dr Wilson's arms were holding the older man tightly and both looked so content that no one had had the heart to wake them. They'd simply organised for two meals to be kept warm and left the two men alone.