Moseying Down the Trail
An Open Response to Mona, a Regular Reader and Commenter:
    I needed the smile your comment on my immediately previous post splashed across my face yesterday, Mona! Over the last week or so even I have been surprised at how frequently I'm posting, again. Lately I've been scouring my motives, thinking that I might be feeling, since the "death sentence" was laid upon my mother's head, some urgency about posting under the assumption that I "now" have a limited time to do so and want to record as much as possible. I'm not sure this closes the case, though, as I've suspected that after my mother's death I will probably feel the need to post a lot in reflection.
    So, you know, I'm still unsure of why I'm moved to post so much, right now, except that present circumstances, which are surely influenced by the "death sentence", have a knack for stirring up my thoughts in regard to my mother, our companionship and my caregiving. In looking back at my usual posting schedule it looks as though such stirrings are not unusual.
    To you, Mona, and everyone who reads me here, please know that comments are always appreciated, in part because I am grateful that I am occasionally read. Comments also allow me the special thrill of feeling as though I'm in conversation with a reader, here and there, but they are not necessary, so, please, don't ever feel obligated to comment...rather, allow yourself to feel moved to do so! Readers and comments or not, I seem to have more than enough internal provocation for posting.

Yet Another Visitation of an Important Caregiving Topic:
    While my mother was in all three medical facilities from 5/14/08 - 6/29/08 it was ever so common for me to hear, from all manner of medical personnel, some variant of the following: "Being elderly is childhood in reverse." That's a quote because one of the CNAs at the rehab facility actually voiced this version. I was always too involved in looking after my mother at these facilities to respond positively or negatively, but I haven't been able to let go of this obviously universal perception and, as you can imagine from having addressed it some time ago from several angles in this essay, remain in deep argument with it.
    Over the last few days a few of those thoughts have gelled into questions that I'd like to put before my audience (present and future). If this observation is true:

• why is a newborn, while admittedly vulnerable, generally the picture of incipient health and someone who is close to death (and also admittedly vulnerable) generally the picture of the absence of health?
• why, as caregivers to infants, do we not routinely consider placing them in care facilities and, yet, we routinely place our hard-to-care-for elders in such facilities?
• why are people often heard to yearn for children, especially babies, but rarely heard to yearn for the opportunity to take care of their elders? Why, in fact, does the Elder Care Ambiance du Jour place major emphasis on what Adult Children can do to "keep their parents independent as long as possible" while most parents struggle with the necessity to allow their children increasing independence?
• why did I sense, accurately, I think, that I would not make a good parent but I also sensed (also, I think, accurately), when my mother asked, that I would make a good companion and caregiver to her in her Ancient Years?
• why are we ulteriorly convinced that single parenthood is not the best circumstance for either parents or children and yet we act as though we are equally sure that single caregiverhood has no significant impact on either adult children and families and the parents for whom they care?
• why do we routinely congratulate single parents on the victories implicit in rearranging their lives to parent their kids, yet routine "suggest" that obviously overburdened single caregivers turn their care recipients' care over to the pros for hours at a time and/or put their parents "in a home" so that caregivers "don't lose their lives"?

    If we really believe that aging is nothing more than childhood in reverse, why aren't we treating it as though it is?
    Yesterday I received a curious magazine, Miller-McCune: Turning Research into Solutions, to which I do not currently subscribe but to which I've been invited to subscribe for free, although I'm not sure why I'm on their "free subscriber" list. The magazine has an article in it which I have yet to completely read, although I've scanned all the sections and am intrigued: Pax Americana Geriatrica. At this point in my scanning, despite the difficulties it outlines in regard to the aging of the population of those nations considered major power brokers, it also suggests that the aging of these populations will usher in an era of peace. It also suggests that the younger a population is, the more warlike it is. This throws into question the idea that aging is childhood in reverse. However pleasant are many of the circumstances surrounding parenting an infant, I doubt that many of these circumstances would be labeled "peaceful" by parents. Makes me wonder: Are we simply not tuned in to the implicit peace of Our Ancient Ones? Is this lack of perception the major problem that stands in the way of us keeping our elders closely connected to us? Yes, garnering the resources to properly care for An Ancient One is not easy, either in home or in country, primarily because we haven't paid attention to renovating our environments to this purpose. Even so, when all is said and done in regard to caring for my mother and everything is on an even keel, which happens more often than most would suspect, there is little more beta-peaceful (which implies alert relaxation) than the afternoons and evenings my mother and I spend in each other's company, no matter what we're doing.
    As I attend more closely to the above mentioned article my intention, of course, is to report back, here. In the meantime, consider this: As long as we insist on equating aging with "childhood in reverse" we will not only fail in our efforts to care adequately for Our Ancient Ones, we will miss the unique and plentiful gifts they have to offer our families, our communities, our societies and our world.

    One half hour to go before Mom's 12-hour sleep mark.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 11:57   email  this post