Facing Destiny

    I have to be honest and say that really old people have always creeped me out. This is probably related to having to go sing at nursing homes with church groups when I was little. Even as a 5 or 6 year old I would look at the shriveled, crumpled bodies and feel horror that I was looking at my destiny. I remember thinking it wasn't fair that no matter how great your life had been, at some point if you live long enough, you are going to be back in diapers with someone feeding you. Except you won't even smell as good as the last time you were in that state and the person taking care of you isn't going to be all loving like your mom.
    When I signed up to be a hospice volunteer, I guess I envisioned being assigned to provide company and help to some middle-aged person dying of cancer like my dad. That didn't scare me. Then I got my first hospice match last week, and she is an 88 year old woman whose diagnosis is failure to thrive- what used to be called dying of old age. She is declining in measurable amounts. She only rarely talks now and sleeps for much of the day. Her weight is going down, despite her eating normal amounts. I am just being honest when I say that my initial reaction was oh, no, a creepy old person. But of course I accepted the assignment and went with the volunteer coordinator to meet Ms. C last week. The coordinator told me that all I would really be able to do is provide some physical contact (pats, hugs, back-rubbing, etc.) and talk to her in a comforting voice. She doesn't have anyone to visit her.
    When I am scared of something, I have come to realize that the best thing for me to do is face this fear and get over it. So I figured this was a sign it is time to face my fear of very old people, (or more truthfully, my fear of becoming a really old feeble person) and spending time each week in an institution full of the very elderly will be a start.
    Ms. C was eating (or rather, being fed) when we got there. She looked like a little tiny bird, hunched over in her wheelchair, staring at the table. Her hair was pulled back in a girlish ponytail. We were only there a short time, and as I had been told to expect, she didn't speak or respond to any questions. I patted her arm and told her my name and that I was looking forward to spending time with her on the weekends and talked just a little more. When I was walking away, though, I heard this very quiet "bye" and it made me really happy.
    Sunday I went for my first weekly visit, only to learn after getting there that Ms. C. had fallen out her bed that morning and been taken to the hospital. She wasn't seriously injured and was expected back later. While I was there, I started asking the staff if they could tell me anything about her that might give me ideas of things to say when I visit her next time. (One-sided conversations can be challenging, but I actually have gotten pretty good at these over the years...) The staff gave me a notebook that had several pages about Ms. C and her past, her likes and dislikes, things to avoid, things that comfort her.
    I read about how she used to be an avid gardener, had loved shopping, had been married for many years before her husband died but had no children, loved chocolate and singing and music... All of this made her seem more real to me and gave me a better idea of the person inside that failing body. But it also made me a little sad. If I live that long, I won't have children to visit me either, and will just have to hope somebody nice might volunteer to spend a few hours with me. And they can read about how I used to like to garden, had loved shopping online, had been married a couple of times but had no chidren, loved chocolate and art and music.

(I hope nobody reading this thinks I am evil for saying old people are kind of creepy. At least I am working to change this attitude.)

Comments

[Kathy]

Hey, I totally relate to what you are saying. I also have a fear of getting extremely old. I also will have no children to take care of me, not even nieces and nephews to come visit, as I was an only child.

Now I study old people and in them I see myself and I silently scream "I don't want to get that old!" What's going to happen to me without someone to make sure I'll be treated well, if something should happen and I end up in a home?

I have several childless single friends. All with that same fear. We figure at some point we can all move in together and be like the "Golden Girls."

[Jill]

Di, I think this is wonderful karma that you are putting out into the world. Did you cry when you were leaving? I know you get weepy in these situations. Don't worry about not having kids. I am taking care of crazy Diann Greene's crazy mom. She isn't "old" yet, but she is a total nut.

[just checking in]

you have become cumbersome. you need to blog.

[Jill]

Hello, hello, hello, I am going to start calling you Mrs. Hughes. A month? that is so unlike you. Don't start me worrying about you.