Tag Archives: Health

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Life with a Nonagenarian

The Nonagenarian at Rest

The Nonagenarian at rest on a deck in Muskoka

I have given thought to changing the name of my blog, because, although I am still passionate about the polar regions, travel and theatre, taking care of my nonagenarian curtails my personal activities. A statement of fact, not a whine, I stress. I haven’t made the change, because inevitably, my life will return to what it once was. That will be a sad day indeed.

Today reminded me of that inevitability. Once a month a friend comes to visit. That is a big event in a nonagenarian’s life. Most of her friends are no longer with us, and of the ones that are, today’s friend, unlike the others, lives nearby. I do whatever I can to facilitate social opportunities with her peers. Sometimes one just has to talk to someone who gets it. I certainly don’t.

The day began with the last minute scurry to ensure everything is in place for the luncheon my Nonagenarian was hosting. I chivvied her to get dressed earlier than normal in her daily routine. About an hour before the guest arrived and a few minutes before my departure, (I always leave them to chat in private), she toddled into the kitchen attired for a tea party . “What is all this in aid of” was her question. The coming visit had slipped her mind completely, although 30 minutes before she could have told me what was for lunch and who was coming.

That slip of short term memory has been increasing. More and more, I have to remind her of something we talked about only a few minutes before. She remembers her childhood and the trauma of WWII vividly, but that she was having company for lunch today, that was a blank. She is aware of her befuddlement. She is afraid of it, and embarrassed by it, and I am guilty of exacerbating her anxiety.

I hate that I am as much a part of the problem as I am a solution to the problem. I do not want to be THAT person, oblivious and short-tempered. Just as she doesn’t want to be THAT person – befuddled and confused.

Well-meaning folk suggest that it is time for her to enter a home. Her doctor thinks she is better off with me than the alternative, despite my short-comings. I believe she is too. The day I surrender her to the care of others will be a black day indeed. Don’t get me wrong, I know that in the future a home may be the best way to care for her. I expect there will come a time that my siblings and I will agree she needs more than I can give her. May that day be far off.

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#Scents and Scentsability

English: Liquid hand soap in a pump dispenser,...

English: Liquid hand soap in a pump dispenser, next to a larger refill-sized bottle of the same soap. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Six weeks today the party will be in full swing. That means the to-do list is long and pressing. One small detail is hand soap for the three bathrooms. Should be a simple thing to accomplish, shouldn’t it. Nope, can’t say that it is.

Despite the fact we are scattered around the globe, we are a family of allergies. Those no perfume rules were made for us. Do you know how hard it is to find scent free hand soap? Vegetables, flowers, combinations, even glacier scents were offered.

Lavender is my personal scentsativity. Picture postcards of a field of lavender in Provence are enough to make my throat swell shut. So I am supportive of the nieces and nephews who ask that we be a scent-free event.

The appreciation of scent is a cultural thing. Argentine men smell pretty, on purpose. The scents of the Middle East are heady and sensual. If Canada had a signature scent, it would be a combination of pine, ocean breeze and maple. I would be reaching for the antihistamine in seconds.

Scents are one more reason you should not leave home without a personal care kit that includes OTC allergy medicine.

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Straight-shooting and Compassionate: My Pals

I had a conversation the other day with a friend of long-standing. I told her that if my closest pals were in one room, they would have little in common. I could not have been more wrong. On reflection, I identified two qualities they all share. My pals are compassionate, straight-shooters. When I ask them for advice, I can count on my friends telling me like it is. Yet the harshest advice will be delivered kindly.

One pal of over 30 years, Trish Krause,  is a qualified nutritionist. She launched a new website today. I invite you to scroll through the pages. You’ll find straight-shooting information and, perhaps, the key to a better life. Take a bite out of life today.

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The Will to Live…or Not.

If I were a character in a storybook, I would be depicted with grey hair and a grandmotherly smile, based on my chronological age. Advertisers woo me with images of handsome men with greying sideburns who golf, and spend quality time with grandchildren. They have it all wrong.

Yes, I am old enough to be someone’s grandmother, but I am childless.  My social life revolves around friends, not lovers. I am the primary caretaker of an elderly parent, so my social dynamic fits none of the cliches. I am a perpetual daughter. There are more and more like me. Boomers with parents who are living longer and longer. It is a reality that marketers, politicians and trend-spotters ignore.

Today, my reality sucks. The octogenarian is losing the will to live. The soundtrack of my life is moans and whines and despair. Some people in my situation just put their old folk in a nursing  home. Today, for the first time, I can understand why. Watching someone fade away is hard, and scary, and damn inconvenient.

The octogenarian does not have to fade away. Keeping her healthy and alive is relatively easy from a strictly biological point of view. That’s frustrating for me, the caregiver, to know how simple it is. What she is teaching me is that living is not just biology. Human beings have to want to live. Right now, she doesn’t. Her quality of life sucks.

So here we are, April 18, 2012, two people with intimately entangled lives, who think life sucks. Our reasons are opposing, but the outcome is the same.

I have to find the courage to let her live her life, or not. That sucks too.

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Cameron Crowe’s We Bought a Zoo

We Bought a Zoo

We Bought a Zoo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She is hard of hearing and her eyesight is wonky. Her knees are arthritic and she has lost her sense of taste and smell. Quality of life is questionable some days, but we do our best to keep her brain active and her life interesting. So when the octogenarian’s favourite Tuesday night programs turned out to be reruns I was hard-pressed to find something with which to entertain her.

We Bought a Zoo appeared this week on pay-per-view. A movie about wild animals with Matt Damon in the starring role. With luck there would be lots of close-ups. They are easier for her to decipher than long shots these days. I hoped Matt wouldn’t mumble and that kids were not too precocious. What I didn’t expect is just how much she enjoyed the film. We Bought a Zoo is a film you can show your mother!

I had no idea that the film was directed by Cameron Crowe, until after I had paid for it. My stomach knotted for a moment. A good film maker, Crowe is not known for family friendly films. [Jerry McGuire is not what I call a family-friendly film.] I could not have been more wrong. Even the make-it-up-as-you-go-along parenting did not elicit a tsk or hmmf from the octogenarian.

The feline star of the film – the tiger that played Spar – was at the end of his years too. He had trouble walking. Eating was difficult. He was on a daily regimen of meds. His keeper had to keep tabs on his consumption, and play games to entice the cat to eat. I could not help but see the parallels between my life with my fading octogenarian and that of the cat. If I didn’t the parallel between the terminally ill wife of Matt Damon and the cat’s final days would have done it.

Essentially optimistic, We Bought a Zoo is a film about moving on emotionally, and preparing for the inevitable. It should come with a warning label for people who are living the experience. The film may just hit too close to home.