Confessional

Every day, I walk and/or drive by an elder's home here in the neighborhood. In the past two days, I became concerned about some newspapers and at least one book on her porch that she had not picked up. As soon as I got home yesterday, I gave her a call.  

 

She surprised me with a chipper hello, and she told me she had just fixed herself a bologna sandwich and had poured a beer. "I am going to feed the cats and then go upstairs to read."  She often has moments of confusion and frustration cobbled together with the mortar of some nasty language, but yesterday she was more of what we often call "her old self."  

 Between my being ill in January and February, and then just general dashing around, I  have not been over to her house very often in the past couple of months. She does have visitors and phone calls, and some of us stay in touch via email, but she has become reclusive.  Some of us have been trying to convince her to let us help her to update an Advanced Directive that we doubt even exists.  However, even with our good intentions, we just end up frustrating her more than anything else.  We know what her wishes are, but we can't find anything in writing and she does not want to deal with it.  

  

Yet, yesterday she and I had a nice simple chat as neighbors do, and  I apologized for not seeing her as much as I have in the past. She sounded surprised. "Oh, no, you have always been a wonderful neighbor! Now, I am just going to feed the cats and then eat my sandwich and drink my beer."  

 

Sometimes a fading memory can be a blessing, and I will accept the grace of that.  Yet, the paperwork is still a concern. A friend of mine recently mentioned that she was told that if her Advanced Directive is more than a few years old, it should probably be redone.  If it is too old, there is a  good chance that it could be ignored, and I know there are some new documents that should be completed.  I also know there should be several copies: one for your purse, your car, your doctor, your advocate, and probably having it tattooed somewhere on your body might not be out of order.  Perhaps I will host an AD party, and over sandwiches and beer, we can all get our paperwork in good order while we talk about the issues of life, death, and what we hope might happen in between.   

 

Aging in America.  For some reason, our society is just not set up for it, but together, we can be. There is no reason for us to go it alone.