I feel like telling a story. Read or skip over as you wish.
Back many years ago, I used to work as a home health aide. I traveled from home to home helping elderly with their daily activities. These were mostly older folks who had just had some type of surgery and were recovering and needed a little help bathing and dressing.
During that time, I was assigned to an older man that I will never forget for as long as I live. When I first met Mr. Bernard, he was 109 years old. I acquired him as a patient because he had fallen and badly bruised a hip, so he was having a little difficulty taking a bath and getting dressed. I was warned ahead of time that he could be cantankerous and quite a handful. I figured at that age, he was entitled.
That little man turned out to be my favorite patient. Oh, he was cantankerous, but he truly enjoyed a good argument, and his mind was as sharp as a tack. I didn't take me long to figure out that he absolutely loved it when I would fuss with him. His typical greeting for me when I arrived was, "Oh, it's YOU again. What you want?" All of this in a heavy Cajun accent because English was not his first language. Our typical routine was for me to take his vital signs, and then I would get him in the bathroom to shave and take a bath. I'll never forget the first time I gave him a bath. We would usually try to get the patient to do as much as possible for themselves. I had washrag in hand and when I got to his bottom, I said, "Do you need me to wash there, or can you do it yourself?" His answer to me, "Oh, that? That died 20 years ago. There's no danger. You can wash it." I couldn't help but laugh.
I took care of that man for roughly two years. During that time we had a lot of conversations about a lot of things and having lived over 100 years, he had a lot of stories to tell, and I learned a lot of history. I never left from his house without a laugh or a smile on my face. The old man was indeed a character, and he claimed that he lived such a long life by always working hard. Only God knows, but he was 113 when he finally passed away.
I guess what brought this on today was the fact that I passed in front of where he used to live. The house has been torn down, and nothing but an empty lot remains, but I could still see it all in my mind as if it were yesterday. I felt that touch of nostalgia that the house was gone, but I still was able to bring forth a deep eternal smile for knowing Mr. Edward Bernard, the old Cajun Farmer with the gruff exterior and the twinkle in his eyes.
