I stopped to visit Aunt V on my way home from work tonight. She’s at a nursing home where hopefully she’ll get physical therapy to help build her strength back up. She’s back to not being able to walk or stand on her own after a week lying around in the hospital.
This is her first full day and she wants out. Now. Yet she can’t do much of anything for herself – so where to go is the question. Tonight I was being a cheerleader for her, reminding her how well she was getting around last Sunday, how she worked hard to get stronger and she can do it again.
She said she hadn’t realized how difficult getting old really was. But, she said quietly as she gazed out at a lake she can’t really see, “it’s hard.” I can only agree and hold her hand.
She can’t see much, has trouble hearing, can’t read, and is more confused than she used to be. She’s always been very sharp, very up to date, very engaged. Now she’s sitting staring vacantly out the window, or thinking that she’s being watched, or that ‘they’ are trying to harm her. Then she’s lucid again and you aren’t sure you really heard her say anything crazy. Maybe it’s just you. Maybe.
On my drive home, sitting at a light I glanced over and saw a driver, older than me, with ear buds in his ears, listening and nodding to something. I thought about all the people out there hooked on their phones and ipods and other gadgets. When the next generation gets to be 95 and are sitting in a room at some nursing home will they have ear buds attached? A cell phone with the sound turned up clutched in their arthritic hands, pressed against their hearing aid?
Will the future be less frightening to us if we’re still ‘connected’ to the outside world through our electronics? Or will those electronics slowly move us toward craziness?
Meanwhile we will take our current situation one day, one hour, sometimes one minute at a time. The road ahead isn’t clear to any of us and hard decisions await. I guess that makes us like most everyone else out there.
But it’s still harder than it looks.
Change Is Hard 
June 18, 2011 at 12:23 am
I’m so sorry that Aunt V isn’t able to walk or stand on her own again, hope the physical therapy helps her get stronger so she’s able to walk a bit.
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June 18, 2011 at 3:37 am
Nursing homes are such a tough place to be, even as a visitor. Depressing to say the least.
I hope Aunt Vi can become strong enough so that her time there is short.
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June 18, 2011 at 5:48 am
I think the hardest thing of all is when the mind is trapped in a body no longer working. I remember when I woke up for being in a coma – my thoughts were all there but I couldn’t get my mouth to say the words or lift my hands to point – it was a terrible feeling and I often wonder if growing old is like that. I heard on the news last night that women are now not living as long as men – maybe that is a blessing in disguise?
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June 18, 2011 at 6:45 am
Sorry to hear Aunt V is not doing well – I hope she can regain her strength and get out of there soon.
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June 18, 2011 at 7:08 am
Can she go to a rehab center rather than a nursing home? I agree with Sara, nursing homes are depressing and a lot of times its where patients just give up. (IMO) . Every day seems the same so you loose track of the days and time. All that time in your room alone isnt good for anyone even if you arent old. I hope things improve as the days go by. Getting old sucks!
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June 18, 2011 at 7:32 am
When the body no longer works the way we want perhaps it’s a blessing that the mind wanders off. Perhaps that’s God’s way of making us less aware of what we no longer are. Those moments of lucidity, while a good thing for those around our aged loved ones, are they really good things for the aged? As to the electronics – perhaps they’re escape mechanisms which can’t be all bad, perhaps they’re devices that help keep our minds agile.
You’re right – getting old is hard.
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June 18, 2011 at 9:36 am
Yes, growing old is difficult. After watching my Mom and Dad, I know that much. Depending on the family, it can be easy or tough. My Dad luckly had plenty of family visiting him. I really enjoyed bringing the collies with me on visits. When they would be doing somethings to Dad, the collies and I would roam the corridors. It was amazing how many people wanted to meet them. I know that if I lived somewhere else my collies would have therapy dog degrees and would visit once or twice a week visit the nursing homes.
If I lived in Utah, Sammy would be a tempting option.
Dog Dad & Essex
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June 18, 2011 at 1:57 pm
She supposed to be in the ‘rehab’ wing…but there’s never a bed available there, so she’s in with stroke victims and dementia patients. Today when I was with her a woman wheeled herself in to the room twice, speaking gibberish and reaching for us. I know that would have freaked Aunt V without me there, and I wonder how often this happens. I just talked to the lady and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk and she said Yes, so I wheeled her down the hall to the nurses station. Twice. The second time I took her further away hoping she couldn’t find her way back. Eventually I saw someone with her, probably family, so that was good. Still, I’m sure Aunt V is unnerved by all the craziness surrounding her. She’s actually pretty good today. 🙂
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June 18, 2011 at 11:49 pm
I sure hope Aunt V recovers to the point that she can go home soon. When my mom’s aunt got to the point that my mom could no longer care for her at home, she went to an assisted living home and even though it was better than the care center, it was still very depressing.
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