30-XI-2011.
Put Oma into a nursing home. We first looked around at the state one, and they were full (until some refurbishing is finished, month or two), and they require full paperwork. Full paperwork is something every state wants when handing out benefits, allegedly to make sure no funds go to the undeserving (though often the cost of paperwork exceeds the benefits), and in this case they want to see a title to the house. What? I know there's a deal they sometimes make, to keep you for as long as you live, but then own the house. Even so, this is implied mortgage, beware of small print. But, what the fuck, we intend to pay in full, so what paperwork? Just gimme a bloody contract. So we left. Heard of a private home on west end (not the one where Đuđa was, that sounded like a bunch of thieves), but didn't know where exactly. A cab arrived and I meant to ask the cabbie, but he appeared completely lost, as if not understanding the language (which would be incredible for a cabbie here). But his unloaded passenger knew.
So we drove there, but then didn't exactly know the house number, and the street could be this or that side of the park... spotted the postman, and he knew. When we got there, there was no sign, no plaque on the gate, nothing, but our luck held - a woman was just leaving the gate, we asked her and she just pointed behind herself.
The deal was simple - it would be 32000 RSD (whole 3 RSD more than what they'd charge at the state home), zero paperwork, no contract, not even a receipt. Just bring wardrobe, ID, health card. Which we promptly did - drove off to get Oma to pack her up; Arpi was already there. Her place was a mess, she had another fit the day before, who knows what meds she was taking. Packed and drove over. She seemed happy, and stayed without much grumbling.
The place isn't much, the beds are obviously discarded hospital beds, which just about any locksmith can repair; the place wasn't too crowded. The staff is certified nurses, ambulance is on call, we only need to provide meds and diapers. The lunch that was cooked when we were there sounded quite OK, the only thing that's lacking is a club, or some kind of sitting room. There's one sofa but it's in the hallway; that's actually the owner's house (she's a chief nurse of some ward at the city hospital) and they live upstairs. The downstairs is not too cramped for the 12-13 people they have.
One big problem solved. We wouldn't be worried whether she'd just walk away and then wouldn't recognize the way back (once she was completely lost 15 m from her gate) or whether she'd climb that pear and fall again. And Oma seemed to feel at ease now, a stone off her heart, as if she was in her obdanište (or what she called her catholic friday club).
We never visited her old house again. Nobody there anymore.
On the other front, the vertical saw arrived today. The woodworking shop is getting completed.
My social experiment for these weeks is wearing the hat. When I appear with the same bad hair day, same clothes as any other day, nobody would pay much attention to me, an old man like any other. But when I wear the hat on top of the rest of the same old, all of a sudden I'm the aged gentleman and everybody's showing respect. Incredible.
Talked with Nina about all of this, so this is based on the recording.
The boiler in the basement is spewing out serious smoke. The wood didn't have the time to dry out properly, even though they are laid in the garage, without doors, for a whole month, there's draft there, and draft in the basement. The smoke can't be caused by just the wood, something must be wrong with the chimney, it doesn't pull enough or there's some other fault.
Mentions: Arpad Gunaroši (Arpi), Đurđa Rođanović (Đuđa), Nevena Sredljević (Nina), obdanište, Oma, in serbian
10-XII-2013 - 4-VIII-2025