Visiting Old Age

Written February 12th in the motel room halfway back from Michigan:

Exhaustion, relief, a mixture of emotions as I return from visiting Mother in Adrian. How complex all the workings of the-or my- brain! A lot of my preoccupation was with duty: had I done enough? Would I feel I had nothing to reproach myself for? In general I do much better emotionally than I did in my earlier visits, when a kind of tension would build in my shoulders and head until I thought I would explode. In those days, I thought there might be a magic bullet that would jog Mother's memory process back to normal. Now we're glad she doesn't seem to have deteriorated for quite a long while.

The ladies at Grand Court are quite diverse in their memory functioning. I only really was acquainted with those I sat with at dinner, of course. Even the sharpest witted might still tell the same story again and again. Mother's oldest friend is now not able to remember what she ordered for her meal a few minutes later, asked me many times about where I live, how long I was staying,etc. The worst thing with her is depression: she frequently remarks that she has lived too long and has nothing to do all day. Many others may feel that way but just don't express it. I still can't tell if Mother is depressed but covering it with a politely cheerful exterior, or is out of touch sometimes but not suffering or really is mostly content and living by the moment. It's hard now to remember our lively chatty mother who talked to everyone she met and could converse in a flowing way on any subject.

A lot of the time I was thinking ahead to my own helpless old age and knowing I would not be so graceful. I even had thoughts about whether I might choose euthanasia. It is an awful thing to get to the point that your body is such an enemy and even human interaction is so difficult. Some of the people can happily attend activities, play bridge, gather around a jigsaw puzzle, even visit in each other's rooms. But Mother has isolated herself in her room a lot of the time except for meals, and, thankfully, playing the piano. Has she thought she had to? I believe she is more confused than she admits and covers up by minimizing her activities. The veil parted a little the next to the last day when I dug out a photo album to inspire nostalgia, and she said she'd rather read the paper. She had tears in her eyes when looking away from the courtship pictures. "It does me no good to look at them," she said. "Crying won't bring him back."

What might work better than this? The co-housing community idea seems good: even though the frail elderly need help and have their own rhythms of life, some regular interaction with young people has got to be healthy. And what about feeling bored and useless? Learn deep meditation? It's fine if one can read or converse or take an online course. But if your mind is not functioning well, it is a pretty miserable prospect.

After comment- Feb. 19th

I was feeling grim at that point. Really, I do think her life is as happy as one could expect, and a lot because of her own serene nature. She probably participates just as much as she wants to, and when a person tires as easily as she does, it is very peaceful to sit and watch birds at the feeder.It's another life stage, slower and slower. I know at my life stage ambition and competitiveness are fading away and I enjoy having some time on my hands (not too much, but some.) Everyone who works at Grand Court is kind and helpful to her. At 86, she may not want much more.