Sympathy for elderly devil.

PUSH AND PULL I recently visited my great aunt at her nursing home.

Sitting in the lobby, waiting to meet the administrator and settle a couple of bills, I watch one of the inmates, an old lady in a wheelchair, creep up to the front door and try to open it. But her arms and legs are about as thick as straws; she hasn't got the strength.

One of the aides notices and casually wheels her back to an alcove where a few of her fellow inmates are hanging out-it's sort of like a bullpen. The second the aide's back is turned, the old lady is heading back toward the door. It's painful to watch because she is creeping forward and it takes her about 10 minutes to go 10 feet. She taps the ground with her toes and brushes the wheels of her chair with the palms of her hands. The movement is delicate, like a spider tiptoeing across a web. She gets to the door and same result: She can't push the door open.

This time, the aide says: "Edith, this door is broken. You can't use it." She wheels Edith back to the bullpen.

The administrator finally comes out and leads me down a long hallway where there is another exit maybe 10 feet to the right of my aunt's room. I go in and stay with her for an hour.

My aunt isn't there anymore, but I put in an hour anyway-good kid that I am. When I leave, I see Edith. It's taken her a full hour, but she's made it down the hallway to this other exit. She gets to the door and pushes as hard as she can, but the door doesn't budge. She drops her head and puts all of her weight, maybe 80 pounds in all, into making the door move. But she can't do it.

Then she starts yelling in a rusty old voice: "Help... Help... Help!"

I sympathize. It's a glass door; we can both see the sun shining on the walkway and the shrubs planted along it. I've been in this home for an hour. It's a clean, well-run place, the aides seem pleasant and my aunt was comfortable, yet I want to be out in that sunshine as soon as possible, too.

An aide approaches and, in her most cheerful voice, asks, "Edith, what in the world are you doing?"

Edith gives her a steely look and answers, "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

I wanted to help Edith make a jailbreak. I liked her. She was a tough old lady who knew what she wanted.