The roar from the Cultural Hall is deafening. I imagine that it could shake the elevators at the far end of the House into working properly.

According to the official schedule, residents are playing bingo in there. Through the back door, I see a room full of people, my age and older, waving their arms in the air. A man on the small stage is doing something with what may be DJ tech. Israeli dance pop is thudding out of speakers. People who may have been too old by the 1990s to enjoy a rave are finally having one.

I'm downstairs to get my evening medications from the nurses' office, a few meters away. When I step into the office, the nurse says something to me. I have no idea what. I can't read lips in Hebrew.

I holler, "That's loud!"

She cheerfully shouts, "Yes!" She comes out from behind the desk to dispense my pills. She is singing along with the music. Her voice is beautiful.

She finds the pills easily. She calls out, "Zitt, Joseph, room 324." The nurses always do that. They know who I am, but they have to get confirmation for added security. As usual, she mispronounces my last name. People tend to think it's "Zayit," the Hebrew word for "Olive." That can happen when people rarely write vowels.

She continues to dig around on the desktop and in drawers and cabinets. She can't find the cups for water. Since the nurses' office moved a few days ago, things have gotten shifted around.

She speaks into my ear. "I have to get more cups. You'll have to step outside the office so I can lock it while I'm away." Sensible. I step outside.

One of the senior staff comes up to me. "Joe! How are you?" She's speaking English, so I can figure out what she's saying more easily.

"Um, OK." I point at the Cultural Hall. "That's loud."

"Yes! Isn't it great? They love it!" She dances back into the hall.

The bingo rave ends a few minutes later. The music keeps going until everyone has left.

Two other residents come out of the hall with their walkers and head over to the nurses' office. First one, then the other, tries the door. "It's locked! How can I get my pills?"

I try to tell them that the nurse has gone to get more cups for water, but will be back. I get stuck on trying to conjugate "to be back" in the third person future female (although as I write this, the word comes to me easily). She returns before I can put the Hebrew sentence together.

She unlocks the door. "OK, first Zayit, then you, then you." I step in to get my pills. I can almost understand what she says to me.

I head out, walking the length of the ground floor to the far end. I think some people greet me, but I'm not sure.

I have to wait a while for the elevator. I am alone when it arrives. I get in and go up.

The elevator makes its usual horrific screech as it moves from the ground to the first floor. OK. My hearing has returned.