“Leave her here, and don’t bother calling me again. I’ve already done my part by bringing her. I have absolutely no intention of coming back for her.”
That was what the man said when he entered my nursing home at 8:30 on a Monday morning, pushing his elderly mother toward the front desk as though he were delivering a package he couldn’t wait to get rid of.
From the window of my office, I’d seen his black SUV stop near the ambulance entrance. He stepped out while speaking on his cellphone, opened the rear passenger door, and helped a small, gray-haired woman out of the vehicle. She wore a tan coat that was much too heavy for the warm California weather. Then he carelessly dropped a checkered travel bag onto the pavement.
“My name is Brandon Hayes,” he announced as I came downstairs. “Her documents are in the bag, along with payment for six months. Get her settled as quickly as possible. I’ve got a business meeting.”
“Before we admit her, we need to speak with your mother and determine what kind of assistance she’ll need,” I explained.
“There’s nothing wrong with her mind. She can walk, eat, and take care of herself. She won’t give you any trouble unless you indulge her dramatic behavior. And whatever you do, don’t give her my phone number. She’ll call me twenty times a day.”
The elderly woman beside a large potted plant lowered her head.
