Manly, the 90 year old flirt

Manly is a 90 year old fella who is what we call a "frequent flyer". He's admitted about once every other month. He's a taller, thinner version of Spencer Tracy with a white shock of hair and a grin which makes all the girls fuss over him. Too bad he's a victim of Alzheimer's, my most hated medical enemy. Unlike many who suffer from this disease, he's quiet, non-threatening, and tries to be compliant. Well, at least for about twenty minutes at a time. Then the bed alarm warns us that Manly is climbing out, most certain to fall. He's had many falls and is quick as any five year old. But he never gets angry when we redirect him to bed.

"Manly, it's two a.m. It's time for bed, " we'll say.

"Oh, it is?"

Then he lets us tuck him back in...until he forgets and we repeat the process all over again. About twenty times a night. Every night until he goes back to live with his wonderful, caring son.

So one night cute-as-a-button Manly was up to his usual rail-climbing, paying no heed to the wailing bed alarm alerting us to his intent to wander.

I went in and resettled Manly and tucked him back under the covers. Manly beckoned me closer with a wave of his hand.

"What's up, Manly?" I said.

With a glint in his eye, he murmured, "So, are you in the mood?"

Stunned, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "No, Manly. Not tonight. I've got a headache."

I could hear the girls in the hallway trying to stifle their laughter.

"You do?" Manly asked, as disappointed as a guy on prom night whose date told him she was on her monthly.

"Yes, Manly. I do."

Manly thought a moment and said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Manly. Not tonight."

In a clear attempt to change my mind, Manly called me closer still and said, "I'm hung."

I bet that's what he said to all the girls....