The Scrappers at Assisted Living

Thursday nights at Used to Be Mother's complex provides entertainment to a dozen seniors with Bingo games. Wilf, a 94 year old, calls out the numbers from his electric wheelchair situated in the middle of the room. A few ladies park their walkers along the wall and risk the few steps to the tables of four along the edge of the room. A few have personalized their walkers with stuffed animals which reminded me of the coloured streamers we'd hang from the handle bars of our bikes. Admission to the game is $0.75.

Wilf has some recycled envelopes that hold the winnings for each game. Each game takes quite a while because some can't hear what Wilf calls, some can't readily find the numbers on their cards, and some forget the type of Bingo they need. A few real sharp shooters annoy easily at the pace. Used to Be Mother is one of these. She could probably play ten cards at a time if they gave her that chance. For someone who can't remember what she ate for lunch, playing Bingo demonstrates some of her former work ethic and ability to multi-task. Some aren't too happy with her helping them. All of them want to win. The grand finale, a full card, has high stakes: $5.00.

It turns out Used to Be Mother and two other women have full cards on the same turn. They have to split the winnings. Wilf is having no part of the negotiations. The three hover over the table like vultures ready to pounce on a dead cow. The women are having trouble breaking the $5.00 into three even portions. They have put down three loonies. They add a quarter to each row. They don't have the right change and so a few who also watch open their change purses to see if they can help. I'm surprised at how determined each winner is to have her prize. After what seems a whole lifetime, I pull out some change and add enough so that each pile is equal. One lady, who I am quite certain, has the first dime she ever earned, looked at me with some accusation and said "You gave them fifty cents." I assure her it's just fifty cents and my children are not going to go without bread and milk. You can tell by the look on her face that she thinks I'm reckless.

 One of the ladies who was watching this whole process grabs my arm and asks if I can help her to her walker. She might weigh 90 pounds if she is lucky. I agree and wait for her to regain her balance. We walk a few steps to her walker. She thanks me and says "When you are my age, I will help you to your walker." Used to Be Mother is tickled that she won and has enough money to pay for her admission next week.

I look around and see Wilf and another gentleman putting away the Bingo game. I go to help them but it is clear that this is their purpose for living and I had better not interfere.

 As Used to Be Mother and I walk towards her apartment, I remind her that tomorrow she begins Home Care where a nurse will administer her medications twice a day. Since her mix up two weeks ago, I have been giving her meds each day. She insists she can do this herself and that she doesn't want any help. I love that my mother doesn't want to let go of her personal tasks and yet I know that another part of her is slipping away and her personal safety is more important that her independence.