Will You Still Feed Me, When I'm 64? (or 100, as the case may be)
The show is on hiatus this week. Usually hiatus weeks are when I hunker down and do nothing but write for seven days straight. Unfortunately, I've had some family issues to deal with lately: my father's been ill for a while, now, and he's in the hospital, so I've been seeing him. Mike's not feeling good this week, either, and since he always takes care of me when I'm sick, I, of course, have been doing the same for him. So not a lot of writing going on, and what I have gotten done, I'm not too happy with. This was supposed to be the week I punch up Chapter 3. But this puppy, for some reason, has decided to punch back, and honestly, it's really kicking my ass. I'm consoling myself with the knowledge that these are just rough first drafts, that it doesn't have to be perfect, yadda yadda yadda, and though, intellectually, I know these things are true, emotionally and creatively, I can't help but hate everything I've been putting on the paper for the last few days.
And, of course, this didn't help my mood: yesterday I met my mother and sister to tour a nursing home in our neighborhood for my great aunt Angie. Angie is turning 100 in August. She's frail, she's deaf and she can't walk too well, but she's a pistol, still, and has a great sense of humor. Right now she's living in her own apartment out in Queens with a live-in caretaker, but it's getting to be too much for my mother (who's 77) to go out there and bring her food and take care of her needs every week. Angie can't and won't live with my mother (long story) so one of the options we're looking at is nursing homes. Let me tell ya, if you really want to be depressed, go tour a nursing home. Lots of old people parked in wheelchairs in the hallways, a couple of them slouched in front of a big screen TV staring at a soap opera--and this was a well-respected nursing home, too. Now, I've got good genes, and lots of relatives who've made past 90, if not to 100, so there's a pretty fair chance I could last that long, as well. But if I did, would it be worth it if that's what I had to look forward to? I don't know. I don't think so.
And, of course, this didn't help my mood: yesterday I met my mother and sister to tour a nursing home in our neighborhood for my great aunt Angie. Angie is turning 100 in August. She's frail, she's deaf and she can't walk too well, but she's a pistol, still, and has a great sense of humor. Right now she's living in her own apartment out in Queens with a live-in caretaker, but it's getting to be too much for my mother (who's 77) to go out there and bring her food and take care of her needs every week. Angie can't and won't live with my mother (long story) so one of the options we're looking at is nursing homes. Let me tell ya, if you really want to be depressed, go tour a nursing home. Lots of old people parked in wheelchairs in the hallways, a couple of them slouched in front of a big screen TV staring at a soap opera--and this was a well-respected nursing home, too. Now, I've got good genes, and lots of relatives who've made past 90, if not to 100, so there's a pretty fair chance I could last that long, as well. But if I did, would it be worth it if that's what I had to look forward to? I don't know. I don't think so.
Labels: depression, nursing homes
2 Comments:
Sorry to hear the tale of woe. And I've seen my share of bleak nursing home woe. When my dad's aunt had her stroke a few years back, he had to put her in a nursing home. She's 99 this year and still sharp as a tack. (Hope I have her genes and not those of her brothers' -- all dead at 66. Yay!) The first place she went to was very nice and she had a private apartment, but she ran out of money and had to be moved to a public nursing home. Yeah, it's bleak -- but she has more contact with people now then she did before. Everyone knows her. She's able to visit people in her wheelchair and there are activities for her to get involved in (it helped that she never really liked TV to begin with).
I guess my point is I'm surprised at how well she adapted to the place, and how in a way her quality of life has improved. So maybe your aunt might be more resilient than you think. Having family around to maintain ties can be a life saver. Okay -- sorry for the ramble. I hope everything works out okay.
Hey, Justin. Thanks for the sympathy. Angie's problem, alas, besides the deafness, is that she doesn't speak English all that well, or at least seems to have forgotten much of it in her old age. If we could find a place with a large Italian population, I think we would all be easier about this. Unfortunately, that generation, like most of Angie's cousins, has died off. Ah well, my sister's looking at other places today and Monday. Maybe they'll be nicer.
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