A Geriatric Weekend
This weekend was a good reminder of the reality of growing old. We spent many of our waking hours in the assisted living facility where my mother-in-law lives and where Aunt Zelda was staying.
Regent Street is actually one of the nicer facilities I have seen. But even so the cloud of loneliness hangs everywhere as the residents shuffle slowly down the halls with their walkers or sit in their wheelchairs staring at the birds in the lobby.
A look around the dining room said a lot. There was Perry, the slightly crazy woman who lies through her teeth just to get everyone’s attention. She told my husband on his last trip that they had left her in the dining room all night. She told me her door wouldn’t close and enticed me to come try it, only to find out her door was fine.
Another woman was starting on her fourth dessert, leaving behind a small pile of chocolate chips. She was obviously not on a diet.
Looking around the dining room, I realized that probably everyone in there was wearing Depends. I can’t imagine how demoralizing it must be to trade in your cotton briefs for padded plastic pull-ups.
The concerns about how Zelda’s meds would be administered caused me to think about the challenges of handling pills for even 60 residents, who all take a different regimen of medications on a variety of schedules. Turning over my few pills to someone else to dispense would seem like turning over a piece of myself.
My initial response after seeing all these old people, many of whom look like they are simply going through the motions of life, was to say “When I get that old, just shoot me!” I’m sure I don’t mean that, but I’m not convinced I ever want to be institutionalized.
The thought of living 41 more years to be as old as Aunt Zelda is daunting. My body complains occasionally now. I can’t imagine what shape it will be in by 2049, if indeed I live that long.
Tomorrow we will leave the geriatric world behind and head home to get ready for a family Thanksgiving. We will enjoy a week with our children before they go back to their distant homes. And we will thank God for still being on the young side of old.
posted by Barbara at 3:28 PM
9 Comments:
Despite the issues that drove my sister to Minnesota, I'm so glad that she's there for our grandmother. Aging is not easy nor Alzheimer's kind.
My husband's parents are both able to live in their house until the day they died. I hope that will hold true for my parents as well. I play concerts in various levels of assisted living homes and although some people adapt quite well to that way of life, others do not.
That is my husband's parents WERE...
When my mother felt she was getting old, she refused to eat. And she refused to live, and then she died. I admire her for that and hope I will be able to handle things the same way when I feel the same way. Right now I just don`t like to think about it yet, and I am glad as you that I still consider myself young enough. But time will come.
Me again. Just wanted to tell you that I caught up on your latest post entries (back to the church issue) and still made (belated) comments. You raise such fabulous subjects! (word veri is fucism, sounds like fascism...)
Dear Barbara,
This is the all too sad reality of how our culture treats its aged. I so wish we could venerate our elderly.
My grandmother was fortunate enough to live in a small living assisted home consisting of only 5 patients, with a few pieces of her furniture and special mementos.
However, once she became too ill for the assisted living nurses to care for her, she was moved to a nursing home. And yes, it was ... sad, disheartening, and NOT the place I would wish to end up in ...
I can only pray that my death is swift - preferably in my sleep!
Happy Thanksgiving!
xxx
rdm
Mom used to say "pneumonia is the old persons friend".
You got to understand, Mom didn't just go around sayin stuff like that either.
What's up with those birds? Are they fake? Or stuffed?
I understand your doubts about getting old. I definitely think it's possible to live to be too old. On the other hand, it's hard to make the choice Angela's mother did.
Maybe there's a kind of peace that goes with it that's hard to appreciate from the outside. If your mind is weakened, and your body weakened, maybe you also don't resist as much. Know what I mean?
nursing homes and some assisted living facilities can be heartbreaking places - although they don't have to be. unfortunately as a society we do a really lousy job of making these places into the type of loving and nurturing environments that they should be.
when I used to teach community medicine I used a novel called 'learning from hannah' which is written by a physician who went on to establish an organization called the 'eden alternative' which is trying to redesign and rethink the way we approach eldercare. I think you will enjoy the book. it's a quick and fast read.... not the finest of literary endeavors by it has a lot of sociological worth and practical merit. if only.
hope you have a wonderful thanksgiving holiday and that there be plenty of young, old, and love amongst the group giving thanks!
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