Another Pause

Another Pause

    Just a quick heads up as I return to help my mother in her transition from true independent living to today's version of "independent" living.  It is quite an interesting shift, that of researching places and then assuming that what you have found will prove suitable...rather like looking for a used car, the salespeople so friendly and so accommodating; it is eerily like looking at dog kennels, for once you commit and leave, you really have little idea how things truly work out.  So you have to rely on your gut...

    Luckily, there's another part of the story, and that is 100% credited to my brother who is tackling the other half of the equation, that of caring for and checking on my mother while she is in rehab.  Not only does he have to man what is being done and handle the visitation to make sure my mother has what she needs and can convey her wishes to the personnel, but also has to begin the process of filtering through her home.  The excess material is easy enough, for we all have such excess "junk" at home.  But when it comes down to the more personal matters, that has to go through my mother and thus the cleaning and clearing slows to a crawl.  But putting yourself in her shoes, imagine being stuck or trapped inside a facility, unable to leave (at least for now) and hearing that someone --even someone you dearly love and trust-- is now discarding and emptying your home.  What is being thrown out?  Is it something you might need or something you treasure, even if it might look relatively worthless, say an old paper or a trinket?

    On the other side of the coin, again trying to put myself in her place, I can imagine only a few practical things that I would truly "need," especially if I were at her age (now 90 and still sharp as a tack, if her bones are failing a bit).  That's been the end my wife and I are handling, furnishing her new place, meeting some of the people (one woman, at 95, is so feisty and full of energy that it makes one wonder what a spitfire she must have been in her younger years), and being called "handsome" by others (one was so sharply dressed that I was quite complimented, feeling that she must be a person of true distinction or able to recognize such...ha!).  But beyond the usual bed, dresser, couch, tv and kitchen & bath items, her new "home" is less the material items and more the new company that will greet her.  Living alone but in your own home has its advantages, but can also prove isolating at a certain point.  The days move on and on, the friends the same day after day, and soon, you're too tired to weed the yard or perhaps hang the clothes.  At some point, despite your independence, one must have thoughts of what IS it all about?

    So, now it is my turn to take the 2nd shift as my brother returns home and I head up to see her through rehab and get her ready for the move.  For my mother, it will likely be her time of goodbyes, her last few days free of the rehab facility and spending her time visiting people she's known for decades, some close friends and neighbors, and others quite friendly but not so close (such as bank personnel and people at her favorite restaurant).  Her cat (an outdoor rascal) will be taken care of until I return in a few months (once my mother is settled in her new home just down the street from me); but for my mother, it will be a new state, new weather (snow and cold...brrr, especially if you're not used to it and what elderly person actually likes cold?), and new lifestyles.  Three meals a day, served waiter-style, activities galore (even trips to gambling, one of her favorite "sports") and 3X daily checks...but best of all, she'll be right down the street from my wife and I. 

    Still, it will be tough.  My friend's mother (in a similar situation) returned home for a few days (a local move but a move nonetheless, one of giving up her house and moving permanently into an independent living facility) and broke down.  And who wouldn't?  Moving because you want to or knowing that you could possibly move again, leaves you with a few options.  But at a certain point, one has to feel that this move, this time, will likely be a move to where you will spend your final days, like it or not...and not in your own home, but in a strange "home."  So on one hand, I understand that it will be difficult.  But on the other and perhaps brighter side, this might be exactly what she wants (albeit, after a few grumbling months).  As the saying goes, people fight tooth and nail to not come in, but there are no claw marks on the doors to get out once they're inside.  One can only hope that that proves to be true.  This isn't a nursing home, or a hospital, or a place of depression.  The facility is relatively small, the visitors constant, the apartment her own (some people there have walls knocked out and new plush carpet put in).  Paint away, move cables, put up shelves...the place is yours, they tell her.  It's a chance to make a new place hers...and she'll have plenty of help.  As one of my brother's friends told him (after his mother had finally moved, at 93, to such a place), "I now have to make appointments to visit my mother, she's so busy."

    But in the meantime (the point of all this), these posts might dribble to a trickle for a few weeks while I'm there.  I'll attempt to take a break from the cleaning and visiting and arranging of matters, in which case, a post or two might appear.  Disjointed, maybe.  A few grammatical errors, probably.  But again, I'm on the road with only the occasional Web access and a fussy tablet that adds to the frustration...so bear with me as to where I am, both physically and mentally.

    Until then, thank you again for your patience...may your troubles be few and your time well spent!