THE ART OF AGING

I have written a letter to my future self.  Before I share it, let me give you some background.  

I live in a 55 plus community.  It is a wonderful place to live, especially at this time of my life.  A tapestry of experiences bring a richness to living not seen outside.  It is a window to the future too and can be both exhilarating and scary at the same time.  Exhilarating because I have watched those who live life to the absolute fullest—until their body gives up—and they can be in their 90’s!  And I have also observed those who are in their 60’s retire and give up living until the end of their time comes—much sooner than later.

I have witnessed how the art of aging, done right, is filled with determination, dedication, curiosity, attitude and gratitude.  This is how I hope to continue my days in this last stage of my life.  But I have also witnessed first hand when someone, who no matter what, is never satisfied with what life has put on the table and consequently makes all those around them miserable too.

Today, I find myself in a situation where knowing this person for 40 years now (she is 88), is the crankiest person I have ever known.  Her husband died 5 years ago.  Our husbands rode to work together, bonding like a father to a son, and through that, I got to know his wife.  Twenty years difference in age did not make us close friends, but close enough to stay in touch over the years.  Although he had children by a first marriage, she had none, and the relationship with his children was strained at best.  So as she found herself alone, widowed, with only a niece to help her, Pat and I gave her as much time as we could (I should say I could).   Before Pat died, he acknowledged that she was a tough cookie, but he always had a soft spot in his heart for her (and her towards him) and asked that I continue to keep an eye out for her.

So here I am.  Trying to deal with a person who is so paranoid that I have been accused of stealing a can of mushroom soup, her box of tissues, a bottle of wine, and pictures of her childhood.  No amount of assurance calms these accusations.  I make her a meal…she is never thankful but will always tell me what she didn’t like about it…so I don’t do that anymore.

Her memory is not what it use to be, so getting things mixed up and confused in time and issues is a routine today.  No amount of gentle persuasion can convince her that she is wrong, only accusations that I am calling her crazy.

I have never been a fighter, but she and I have had a few and I go away hating myself for allowing it to take place and at the same time feeling so frustrated because I worry about her well being and know the danger she puts herself into by her behaviors and choices.  

I know there is nothing I can do.  When she falls again…and I can no longer get into her house because she has taken the keys away from me and her niece to keep people from stealing from her…we will just have to break the door down and she will have to pay to get it fixed.  Nothing I can do.

When she overdoses on her medications (which she has done) there is nothing I can do because no amount of organization or laying them out helps because she cannot seem to follow the Monday, Tuesday….labels.  It confuses her she says.  I have told her niece if she overdoses, she overdoses…there is nothing I can do.

We have talked to her doctor to see what help he can give for us, and he says, at this time, there is nothing he can do.

My frustration level is high enough at this time, that I am putting more time between visits and hope, if she gets into a situation she will call, and if not, there is nothing I can do about it. 

In sharing this with friends, I have heard other horror stories about others who have reached old age and gotten out of touch with reality.  The pattern seems the same with those that find themselves in this situation.  On the other hand I have a neighbor who is also 88 and is the kindest, most considerate person I have ever known, and the smallest act of kindness toward her, finds oneself on the receiving end of a great amount of generosity.

With me being alone, knowing that my day will come when my age and sensibilities are challenged I decided to write myself the following letter.  

Dear Future Marlene,

If you are reading this, then one of your children, their spouses, or grandchildren (who all love you very much) have come to you to say one of the following:

It is time Mom that you give up driving….

it is time Mom that you get help…

it is time Mom that you move in with…

it is time Mom that you move to….

You have to know and believe this is being done with love in their heart and concern for your well being.  Do not, under any circumstances give them a hard time.  Put a smile on your face, be gracious and thankful that they still love you enough to care!  If you approach this with a kind and grateful heart, they will continue to visit with you and look out for you.  If you become a cranky old bitch they will be glad to just put you away.

So smile kid…it only will get better from here!

Love

Your past self.

PS:  If you think this is not so….just remember how you have felt taking care of your lovable cranky friend.

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My children know where this letter is and when they should tell me to go read it.

So I go on living, with a prayer that I will age gracefully with determination, dedication, curiosity, attitude and gratitude.

Amen.