My Dad needed some help, he was having a hard time getting around, and I reached out to Deptford Center. I’d heard very good things about the place. That was on my mind, but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Then one morning I got up to feed my cat, Henry, went back to bed to lie down and Henry followed me. I think he sensed that something was up.
I got up after about a half hour to call my Dad to check on him. He told me that he was fine, but I wasn’t feeling right. I asked my Dad to call the paramedics, and right at that moment I hit the floor. I had a mini-stroke. The doctors at the hospital kept me overnight for observation, said there was no permanent damage, and sent me home the next morning.
That’s when things really started to go wrong. I had acute pancreatitis three times, and then I had pneumonia three times. I was falling apart. “My poor cat,” I thought. I’m going to drop dead one of these days, and there will be no one to witness it except for Henry.
By this time my Dad’s condition had worsened and he was in Deptford Center. I called my social worker and arranged to join him. Now we’re together. The people here are so nice, and because of their great skills, I’m well on my way back to good health. They’re going to get me back home. I love the staff here, but I know Henry is worried about me, and I can’t wait to see him again.
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