Come Away With Me, My Fair One

In the midst of a microbe attack I got a phone call from my mom’s caregiver.

“I don’t want to alarm you but I think your mother has a stalker.”


What made her think someone in assisted living is stalking my 88 year old mother?

1. He hangs outside the beauty shop and watches her get her hair done
2. He walks into her apartment at any time
3. The caregiver found him hiding in my mom’s closet

Okay–she has my attention. I think the caregiver was disappointed I didn’t get more alarmed. Most people would think those stories so outrageous that only a stubborn fever could produce them–but they wouldn’t know my family. You see, this isn’t even the first stalker who has had my mom in his cross hairs.

I remember the time my mother was stalked by a golf buddy of my dad’s. This was also the same time the “boy next door” got a trial leave from the group home at the mental hospital. “Kenny” would perch in his upstairs window with a bull horn and keep watch over the neighborhood all night—every night. I witnessed this first hand when I I was helping move my mother and admit I jumped the first time I heard “Kenny” yell through his bullhorn, “MOVE AWAY FROM THE CAR!”

Anyone who walked on the street after dark was quickly spotted by “Kenny”, warned and then warned again until they left.

Unfortunately, the stalker neighbor didn’t register on “Kenny’s” Stranger Danger” radar screen. I had to deal with the stalker myself. After putting a stop to “come hither” notes stuffed in her golf bag and finding the stalker peering through the bedroom windows a few times, I managed to convince him that he risked bodily harm if he came near my mother again.

Dealing with this geriatric stalker hiding in my mom’s closet is a slam-dunk. For all I know, he thought he’d gone out the front door and couldn’t figure out why it was so dark in the hall!

Of more concern to me is the stalker’s fondness for walking down to the Safeway and bringing back a bottle of wine to share with my mom at ten o’clock in the morning. Being tipsy and using walkers is an invitation to a fall. The hazards of living in Assisted Living lurk around every corner.

I apologize for the long time between posts but the nasty hot tub lung microbe has reared its ugly head again. It’s bad enough that having an illness picked up in a hot tub garners zero sympathy–it’s even worse trying to explain that a) it really isn’t TB and b) I’m positive it’s not contagious. But as I state at the beginning of the blog, I’m just the kind of person to whom things happen. Sigh…….


About mamatoc

A Baby Boomer learning to live in a retirement community in California.
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One Response to Come Away With Me, My Fair One

  1. JR says:

    Well, I think an update might be in order! The stalker was stalked himself and got the short end of it!

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