Dear Journal,









2/6/09

My grandmother was recently admitted to the nursing home I volunteer at. While I was there everything seemed different. Much different, and all of it was worse. It all seemed surreal.

The walls all seemed darker and more like they were supporting a hospital, not a home. The carpet seemed more like dirty white tile you see at sad hospitals. The spaghetti dinner smelled like water. The fountain in the atrium seemed like it barely gave a stream.

All of the residents were in their rooms in my Grandma’s wing. It seemed as if everyone had disappeared. While we were leaving a resident came out and looked like she was slowly, helplessly melting away. The very few nurses that were around, none of them had an expression. The Alzheimer’s people sat there and either screamed or laughed maniacally.

In short things weren’t the same as when I volunteer. Now when I go to volunteer things seem happier. I don’t know why I had those feelings. I hesitated to go back after that. After I went it seemed much easier. I guess this is just a part of being a teen.