The Reality of Getting Really Old

As I sat in the living room and then the dining room of Selfhelp, an assisted living facility in Chicago, I found myself projecting ahead and wondering which one of those old people I would be like in 30 years. The thought was sobering because they all have problems.

We were there to visit Zelda, my husband’s 98-year-old aunt, who has lived by herself all these years in the windy city. She is fiercely independent, even now refusing to live in this place permanently, despite the fact that she suffers from macular degeneration and can’t see worth crap. Other than the lost eyesight, she is in remarkably good shape for her age.

There was Henry, who had been a stained glass artist, but was now permanently confined to a wheelchair.

There was Vera, who doesn’t hear or see well, and who seemed to have forgotten 5 minutes after dinner that she had shared our table.

There was Felice, who could hear a pin drop at a table across the room, and proceeded to make comments to people that far away, some of them angry and hurtful.

There was Evelyn, who slowly ate her dinner and didn’t utter one word.

I could go on and on and on.

Some of these disabilities cause misunderstandings as happened at dinner:
Zelda: What differences are there around her on Saturday (Shabbat)?
Vera: What is a “diffunk”?
Felice (from a neighboring table): Can’t you just answer her question?
This went on for several rounds of questions until someone just changed the subject.

During dinner Margot’s phone went off with a loud ring “Grandma, answer your phone. Grandma, answer your phone.” Obviously her grandchildren set up her cell phone.

It was about 85 degrees in Selfhelp and no one seemed willing or able to turn down the heat. I was yawning from the heat and feeling overwhelmed by what we had experienced so we tucked Aunt Zelda in early and headed back to our hotel.

I just have to provide a picture of the elevator buttons, which have been covered up to keep those with idle fingers and feeble minds from playing. You have to be savvy enough to stick a pen-like device into a small hole to call the elevator.

My final thought was whether or not I would be able to beat the elevator system at 90 or whether I would be one of those it protected against.


You can read more about Zelda here or from my husband's post about Zelda.