All of us face the same eventual fate, we all die. Rich, poor, educated, simple or complex, fat, thin, what ever paths we take, we all will leave this earthly existence. How do we choose to leave the planet? What is our quality of life going to be?
In the LDS Church which I am a member, we are called to serve our fellow beings, its a fabric of our belief system and a function of our day to day lives. We earnestly believe that when we are serving others, we are serving the Lord. Yesterday I was asked to help move an elderly woman from our Ward ( our local church unit) from her apartment into an assisted living center.
The move was like many of the hundreds I have helped with, a group of men and boys assembled to move the earthly possessions of a person or family from one location to another. Boxes, bags, furniture, bird cages, and house hold items carted from one location to the next in the journey of life. Yet, the contrast of this move with all the others, this was mostly likely the final move for this wonderful sweet lady in the twilight of her life.
We moved her from a small apartment into even smaller dorm room size accommodations. It was a small room with an adjacent bathroom. My first college dorm was larger. It was sad to see 80 plus years worth of love, life and joy to be placed in a room to live our her final days upon the earth. While it's a dignified setting and the accommodations were nice, it really struck me that this "assisted living" home is really an "assisted dying" home. The people I carried boxes, chairs and a love seat past, were in various stages of death. Last year we had my father-in-law moved into a place very similar to this one in Utah and he only lasted four months before he passed away so this was a painful reminder of his journey off the planet.
Death is not a sad event, it's part of life but the image of the blank stare of the woman seated in the lobby are etched deep enough in my brain that it make my heart fill with compassion and my mind wonder. Assisted living, hardly, these are assisted dying centers. I know that would not be very good marketing and be seen as insensitive to call them what they really are. I doubt there would be a long line of people waiting to get into the Aspen Creek Assisted Dying Center" (fictional name).
So the bigger thought is, what quality of life do I want when those twilight days come my way? I am silently choosing my quality of in my final years of life right now by the way I live. The fuel I put in my body, the amount of sleep I am getting, the quality of life, amounts of stress, and the impact of the exercise I choose. I also select the quality of my existence by the relationships I have now. Will I die a lonely old man in a worn out body?
My moving assignment was more than a lesson in serving my fellow church member, it was a vivid reminder of the fate I face and how I am contributing to this today. May I learn to eat better, manage my health and body. May I choose each day with every nutrient I put in my body, every hour of sleep, every giggle or conversation I share with friends and loved ones.
To the woman I helped move, may your last days on earth be filled with joy of sharing time with loved ones. To the woman in the lobby of the center with the blank stare, we never met but thank you for reminding me of the quality of my future life. This was two hours well spent and lessons learned.
It's time to chose strength in all I do. Its time to go to the next level of living. Join the coalition for Strength and join those who are purposely selecting a better life.
Sadly, most assisted living and long term care facilities have rooms such as you describe. While the fat cats' pockets get fatter, our elderly and disabled continue to get the shaft.
ReplyDeleteThe apartments in the place where I work are not like this. But said apartments are, to be blunt, hella expensive. The apartments in the independent living area are about $3500 a month. The ones in assisted living are $6000, and the rooms in long term care are $9000. I don't know about you, but I have a hard time managing the $1100 I pay between mortgage and lot rent on my mobile home. (I know you wouldn't do this, but if anyone else feels the need to refer to me as 'trailer park trash,' so be it.)
None of the people I work with could afford an apartment or room in the place where we work.
Its scary. I have long term care insurance and a retirement plan but when I look at what this brings as compared to the cost, it ain't much. I do try to save but there's not that much if anything left over to save when the bills are paid.
I worry about what's going to happen with my father. He had a stroke four and a half years ago and is badly handicapped. My mother is his 24-7 caregiver. No home health agency will deal with him because he's so difficult to do transfers with. I pulled a muscle in my chest helping to transfer him. If something happened to my mother he'd have to go into a care facility because he needs someone with him 24-7. My brother lives in a different state and of course I work a full time job. There's no way we could swing it. And that's a sad thing to have to admit.
My parents had $300,000 in savings which sounds like a lot but its quickly being eaten up by my fathers' medical costs.
I don't know just how it can be done but something really needs to change in the way our most vulnerable populations are treated.
I have to add, I can't say whether you'll have a worn out body in your elder years (mine's already pretty shot) but I am sure you won't be lonely. I can tell you have a lot of people that like you. This is a great thing.
ReplyDeleteHi, I am 60 years old. I live in Massachusetts. Due to my disabilty and my parents' income, they were forced to put me in a state institution when I was young. A few years ago my father had a stroke. Within that same year he had colon cancer. Fortunately his surgery got most of the cancer out. He went throught chemo and now my mother is his sole caregiver. This is not right. The elders in our country should be more respected by the government. Whatever they require, they should receive. Going back now, I am 60 years old. I live in the community in my own apartment. Thilini, who is typing for me, is one of my many caregivers. Her salary is paid by the state of Massachusetts. It is only a little money but enough money for a good caregiver. Well, let me put it in another way. I employ students who are going to school around my apartment. The money they earn is probably only spending money for them.
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