After my recent shoulder surgery , I went to a rehabilitation facility to hasten my recovery. It was an unusually pleasant place—attractive, clean, with attentive staff.
During the ten days I stayed there, I experienced something that shook me to the core of my being.
I was much younger and healthier than the typical resident at the facility. It was like being a teenager at your grandparent’s fiftieth anniversary party.
Like most facilities of this nature, the staff provided stimulating experiences: entertainment by local people, bingo games, and movies. I attended several of these functions because the days often felt incredibly long. I soon realized that most of the people who attended these functions were “long-term residents”—a euphemism for people whose memories and personalities had been ravaged by aging.
I went to a community birthday party one afternoon. (The draw for me was the cake and ice cream!) I chose to sit at a table with a man and his wife—people I saw every day. They appeared to be in my age range so I thought that we might be able to visit with one another. The woman resembled me somewhat—she was obviously of Irish descent, with dark, wavy hair, dark eyes and fair skin.
But when I attempted to chat with the couple, it soon became obvious that the woman had dementia. I watched as the husband tenderly attended to her, spooning ice cream into her mouth, and wiping her lips and encouraging her to take sips from a cup of punch.
At one point, I looked at him and smiled. A tear trickle down his cheek. I wondered if I reminded him of his wife in better days; and that my presence was a reminder of all that had been swallowed up by his wife’s illness. It felt like entering into his private hell.
Looking around, I realized that the staff who took care of the long-term residents could have been me at the height of my teaching career. And the long term-residents could be my future.
It was chilling to see my past and (possibly) my future.
I’ve seen the outer you recently, but missed reading the inner you.
Thanks, Jane. I live the way you worded this comment. I never thought of the blog quite that way!
Good reflection of your experience. That is why we need to live in the PRESENT and not dwell in the past or dread what may be ahead in the future. Live like a dog – totally enjoying every moment of NOW! XX00
Great advice, Bonnie!
Kathy, for those of us that did not have your first hand experience, your descriptive writing gives us a chance to vicariously imagine it and appreciate the good health we now have. I agree with Bonnie’s statements.
If I get frustrated, upset, or temporarily injured/ill, I try to remind myself that my worst day is hundreds of times better than many people’s best day.
Thanks–I couldn’t agree more!
My parents dreaded going to any sort of nursing home or rehab place. For them, it was the place-of-no-return. That was their perception.
Now, it is more common to get rehab and be able to live independently in our homes for longer. I guess this is a reminder that we need to do all we can to stay healthy. I’m lazy about exercising regularly and have low resistance to tempting foods. In the long run, I know I’ll regret that. In the short term, I indulge myself.
I was actually going to say something similar to what you wrote, Ginger. Good points!
Welcome back!
I had a similar experience while rehabbing after hip surgery. The facility was pleasant and staffed by helpful people. There were others, like me, there temporarily but I found myself choosing to dine with the permanent residents. I liked their gentleness and I guess they reminded me of my mother.
It made me very sad to read your comments. I guess for myself. That may be in my future, which I hope is a very long time away. Then again, to paraphrase: eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may have to go to a nursing home!!
Glad you are better.
As Virginia mentioned, our parents, like most of their generation, viewed nursing homes as a place you never returned from…you went there to die. We tried to reassure them that nursing homes had changed, that modern nursing homes were much different. But I have to say, from what I’ve seen my loved ones experience in nursing homes in the last few years, there are many, many cases of nursing home neglect and abuse. I now understand what my folks feared.
And people of our generation can “look forward” to more years in nursing homes because of our increased longevity. You might want to read Ezekiel J. Emanuel’s thought-provoking article, “Why I Hope to Die at 75,” that ran in The Atlantic in October, 2014. Dr. Emanuel isn’t talking about euthanasia or suicide, rather he talks about taking a different approach to his health care when he reaches 75.
I’ve noticed over the years that we at Solivita seem to age more slowly and with sharper cognizance than people I meet who don’t live here. I attribute that to all the challenging activities we have available to us and to the positive attitudes of the people I know here.
We have our share of falls, flubs and flare-ups, but we seem to recover faster and more completely in most cases.
Yet another reason to love Solivita.