Old or Forgotten

         Staring into a blank whitewash wall can make you wonder, where have I been? Where is my family to help and support me? Have I been left to do nothing but stare at a wall for the rest of my life?
         As I turn, I see Roob sitting quietly in his wheel chair. He stares into the abyss. I'm not sure whether he's thinking about nothing or about dying. Those are the only choices here. We get minimal attention from the "caring" staff. Also, our families, if any are left, come only once a month to visit.
         We don’t want to die, on the contrary, we want to get out and approach what time we have left with exhilaration. If we weren’t limited to this place though, we’d be more of a burden to others than fun-filled with life. But still, I would like to take everyone out and be with the rest of the world.
         “All elderly are to be escorted back to their rooms,” I wait to be taken back to my barren quarters, with the announcement still ringing in my ears. Suddenly, I see Roob move achingly to the emergency exit. At the second he pushes the door ajar the siren goes off in a wailing torrent. A male aide, as if reflex, seizes him from his dream.
         With a guard in the hall and his doors locked, Roob slumbers in his room. Helped from my chair, I attach my feeble hands to a walker. Slowly down the wide hall I approach room 186, just another number. The aid, Claire, opens the door and helps me into the elevated hospital bed. Next to me is a picture; a happy family of four, on top a metal stand. Shouldn’t my last days be with them, happy and free?