I'm sitting in my truck, scoping out a suburban apartment complex. It appears to be a nice quiet place, so far as can be told on a hot Sunday afternoon. There are a lot of redwood trees and lawns and shaded parking, all with that dry dusty patina brought by a late summer drought and the fire-smoke sky. But it's quiet and clean. No one is stripping their car down, or stumbling about scattering bottles and needles and condoms. It seems okay.
Three years ago my mother moved into assisted living. Her financial advisor never told her she was rapidly depleting her principal. Now she knows, and is worried about going broke. She could stay there if she downsized to a one bedroom. But she doesn't want to. She wants to move out into a regular apartment. That'll save her a lot more money. But she also regrets moving into assisted living in the first place. Everyone there is sick, she says, and they never want to go anywhere.
She's 88 years old. She's in decent health, still drives, etc. But she is diminishing. She doesn't see it. I don't see it, really. My cousin does, because she sees her less often. It's real, if subtle. And she's never been a great driver. I will be taking her keys away at some point.
She was drawn to this place because it's called Hastings Ranch and she grew up on a farm on a Hastings Road, way down south of here. (And the price is right, amenities, etc.) That criterion doesn't inspire confidence.
I need to be clear with her. I need to be clear with myself. I don't want her in some random apartment house full of people who care nothing about little old ladies. I want her where she has support when she needs it. She doesn't need it now. But she will, and when she does that support can't just be me.
She hates to lose her quilting room and spend more than twice as much on a one-room where she lives now than on a two-room just about anywhere else. But I'm her support network. I have a say, and writing this helps me determine what my say is.
3 comments:
I understand.
I've given a little thought to this on my own behalf recently and I understand your mother's reluctance and dismay, at least a little. I understand your "say" as well; one day I'll be flying to northwestern Washington state and doing something with my own mother.
I recently visited my former mother-in-law. She had been living on her own, with a dog, near her eldest child (daughter) up until the day she got lost on her way to the grocery store. Turns out that she'd forgotten to take her most important medications for months and had been steadily losing her faculties.
Previously she'd arranged a trust fund to pay for her living arrangements when it became time to move to assisted living. The time had come and she and everyone agreed. She found a place and there she is.
She showed me the walking path in the spacious back yard of the former home that had been converted to an assisted care home. She described how she walked one direction around it, then turned and went the other way. Every morning.
"I don't get to do anything here. They clean up after me. They cook. They do the dishes. They clean my room and do my laundry. I have nothing to do here."
This is a vital, active woman we're talking about. She had run her own large household, managed her husband and five children and an elderly/infirm mother-in-law AND worked in the recreation department. When she retired and moved out here she volunteered for a variety of things, went dancing, entertained several gentleman friends, babysat her grandchildren and then her great-grands ...
She's still capable, except she sometimes forgets to take her meds and when she does that, she loses her faculties and ...
Now she tries to converse with the other inmates ... I mean housemates in the facility, but they're far more addled than she is. The housekeeper/caregiver doesn't communicate much. Her kids visit, and take her out for stuff, but mostly she walks the path, watches the bunnies that live around the place, and watches TV.
I'm wondering if the facility would permit her to have a small garden. She loves gardening.
It's all sad. There's no good answer... but running out of money sure doesn't help anything. And whatever you plan, something else is likely to happen. My mom planned to outlive my dad, but instead I was stuck dealing with him. "Luckily" he was pretty far gone by the time I moved him to assisted living, so he didn't complain of being bored (not that he ever was active), only that the carers didn't speak enough English. Oh well. That was all we could afford.
The garden sounds like a neat idea for N's ex-MIL.
I've heard ppl say they don't want to move to any sort of assisted living or retirement type community because it's "full of old people." I'm actually looking forward to that, to light walks and card games and movie nights and trips to the library. I can't keep up with active ppl my own age who ski and surf and do strenuous hiking. Was even looking at some condos online for when I turn 55 and/or the ex's crap drops off my credit report (sofa king annoying).
But yeah... you do have a say, Don. If she will listen to you. My dad wouldn't listen to me and I had to use trickery to take his car keys. It makes me so mad when something happens and people blame the kid for not taking the car away. You can't just take someone's car! They still have rights, for better or for worse.
My cousins, whom she was just visiting in Arizona, and I have been talking, and I am formulating a plan. I can trust her to take my input into consideration and make a fair decision. If she still moves, it's not a bad situation. Less than a mile from shopping, and about a quarter hour drive from me. If she doesn't, she'll downsize and I will convert her new living room into a cozy living and quilting space that she can afford without having to move. Struth, I don't feel terribly uncomfortable about either option.
She's 88 but she has good genes and if she can remain functionally independent for three or four years then it will work out. These next few years will be very tough ones for me in terms of time and money and I won't be as available as I would want to be, but life naturally consists of a lot of crossed fingers, so by and large I'm optimistic.
Post a Comment