Today was D-Day, a time of invasion. At day’s end it is not entirely clear who or what has invaded whom or what.
My wife’s mother, my dear mother-in-law Betsy, disembarked from the house she’s lived in for more than 50 years to land at Bickford Cottage. Which is no cottage in the Up North in Michigan sense. Bickford, an assisted living facility, is as nice as one might hope, with a plenitude of amenities. The one in Midland opened a few months ago and already has a waiting list.
Preparations for invasion began yesterday when Two Men and a Truck came to the house to move bed and mattress, recliner, rocker, end tables, lamps, TV and stand, exercise bike, and a few other things. Later in the day and this morning came the moving of linens, bedding, and clothes. My wife and her sister spent an evening putting up shower curtain, stowing supplies in the cupboards and food for the dog in the closet, and finding a spot for the dog’s bed. Yes, this facility allows dogs. Lacking this liberty, there would have been no invasion.
Today after lunch came the final surge from house to cottage. There was a phone to install, a towel rack to put in, and clothes to hang. Betsy occupied the newly invaded territory.
Very soon a counter-invasion began as nurses came for a quick assessment of the new resident. My father-in-law had to deal with the bureaucratic necessities of such places which must fulfill to the letter dozens of government requirements, each of which has a piece of paper to sign. As he said, the longer this went on the less he felt like cooperating.
He’s a hero in this battle, as are my wife and her sister, having dealt with one thing after another to make the move as easy as possible. Betsy herself, both subject and object of this big change, deserves a medal.