The Next Eleven Weeks
The roommates I had in rehab were characters. I would much rather talk about them than my struggles. All you need to know is that by the time I left the hospital, I reached my goal, and was able to walk out with no assistance.
My first roommate was pure French so we communicated in signs. At times she would speak French to me and I English to her. She was a sweet 84 yr old lady who just so happened to snore like transport. And it was never consistent. Sometimes it sounded as though she was choking on an animal. It was too much at times.
After she went home, I got an 83 yr old roommate who was getting an onset of Alzheimer’s. I am not a very loud person and she refused to wear her hearing aid, so there was a lot of confusion in our conversations. Eventually she began calling me Catherine and had a penchant for asking me questions while I was trying to sleep.
My last roommate was a 52 yr old woman who cried like a 6 yr old when she didn’t get her own way. She was rude, offensive and a pathological liar. She used to bitch about the nurses and the doctor’s constantly when she was in the wrong. I nodded my head for a while, then, I snapped. Oddly enough, it only made her like me more. She also would stay up all hours of the night watching TV and eating chips while making orgasmic sounds. I even think she ate chips in her sleep. It disgusted me… I wonder who ended up being her new roommate?