My Life at the Nursing Home

On most days, I just look around me and laugh. I laugh at myself, I laugh at my circumstances, I laugh at my surroundings, I laugh at what my life is right now.

Example A: Currently, I am sitting in one of the dining rooms at the nursing home where my grandmother has lived for the last four months. It’s pouring rain out, and we’re sitting by the glass doors to watch it. Or better, so I can watch it. Because my grandma is asleep in her wheel chair next to me, pretty much unaware of what’s going on. As usual.

Her former roommate and escape buddy has come to join us. And after taking a long gander at my Windows Surface, trying to reach for it, asking what it is, then mumbling some incoherent things, she has also fallen asleep in her wheel chair by my side. So here I sit, between the two of them, rapping away at the keyboard, as they drift off to a dreamland that’s sure to be more active than their realities.

Their heads bob up occasionally as they awaken, somewhat startled by the fact they must have dozed off. Then they gaze off into their own self-created/envisioned abyss, not really able to see too far ahead of themselves anyways. They rustle around for a while, pushing, shoving and pulling at their lap buddies (their mortal enemies and best friends), trying to escape the chairs that have become their fate and doom, then they grow tired from the brief moment of exertion, and drift off again.

Behind me, there are chairs and tables set up. They await the arrival of the residents and volunteers who come each Tuesday morning to sing Dutch songs. After all, we live in a Dutch settlement, and as my mother, the pharmacist for this facility said, when they gained the account, the pages of patients’ last names that started with “van” were many. I’ve always wanted to learn Dutch… I guess I’m in the right place!

Today will likely consist of me getting half-way through the novel I started last night, the last in the 11-book series I started just four months ago. Another indication of how much time I have and what my days are like. Then I’ll color some mandalas, read the Bible for a while, and journal whenever something comes to mind or the urge to write takes hold. I’ll eat my snacks when I get hungry, and stare off into space on several occasions, trying to be mindful, but letting my thoughts run wild for a while. And while it would sound to many like I have nothing but free time, there are many things I won’t do. Things I won’t do freely include: use the toilet, fill my water bottle, get lunch or dinner, or go anywhere I can’t see my grandma. I have to be ready to leap into action at any moment should she decide it’s “time to go home”.

I live in a way that combines utter relaxation and total stress. Though if my inability to sleep at night is any indication, I’m never really, fully relaxed. I can’t be. I am always, always at least a little bit on edge, and must be attentive at all times. I cannot leave her unsupervised, and have to look after her every move. If there’s a glass of liquid around, I have to be ready to catch it or clean up after it on a whim, and if she’s feeling combative, I have to be ready to try and keep her from standing/falling, while also avoid being hit in the face, bit, or having my fingers bent back to the point of breaking. Yes, it’s safe to say, life for the last four months has been quite the ride.

I’ve never endured so much stress and hurt in my life, and the emotional toll of it all has really begun to be deeply felt. This is the love of my life we’re talking about, my best friend, and I’m essentially just watching and awaiting her death. There is no “getting better” in this situation. It ends only one way. Our days of joke-filled outings are gone, coherent conversations exist no more, and it’s unfortunate she didn’t pass Japanese onto us all, because some days it’s all she speaks. (Which I think is pretty cool:) Thankfully, I’m going on vacation next week. Because as much as it might sound like my life is a never-ending holiday, full of “free time” and the ability to do whatever I want, it really is not.

The thing about the elderly is that, they’re like having a baby and/or toddler…or two, or three. Plus a litter of puppies… combined.

My mom said it perfectly the thing that makes an elderly person more difficult than a baby or toddler, is that they are strong enough to fight back. A baby you can strap into their car seat, and there they will stay until you remove them. It doesn’t matter how much they cry, they cannot get out. And if they hit you in the face in the process of putting them there, it’s on accident. But a 93-year old woman in a wheelchair with a lap buddy, can, on many occasions, sort out how to get the dang thing off, and try to stand up. Dementia preventing said 93-year old from remembering that standing absolutely equals falling. There is no exception to this.

And now comes the wailing. From behind me I hear it, as the residents and volunteers begin to filter in.

It’s sad really, nor is it really wailing I suppose. But what I hear sounds like highly-emotional wails. However, based on the language being spoken to the man from the Dutch singing visitor, and his reactions to these sounds, must actually be old person’s broken Dutch.

Seriously, take my mind, turn it into a narrator, and you’ve got yourself a really entertaining TV show. I should have pitched my life to a network. This isn’t the kind of stuff you can make up.

The singing has begun...

Someone is crying for joy, my grandma and her former partner in crime are pretending to be asleep, a couple have no idea what’s going on but seem happy, and all the rest look pretty joyful, or at least complacent. Life is a combination of pain and joy, and nowhere represents that more than here.

Oh, and I’ve just noticed the dog of the man who leads the singing is licking the carpet of the dining hall profusely. I can’t even imagine how many food particles are embedded in it, or how many sweet beverages have been spilled there. I’d probably lick it too if I were a dog. But I’m not, and I know how germy all the surfaces around me are here, so instead, I am bemused and slightly disgusted.

(If you’re reading this, I hope you’re laughing. I know it’s quite sad a lot of it, but really, what else can we do in life but laugh and take/make light from/of it all? I’m actually cracking up right now. Well really, I’m trying to do so subtly. Although now everyone has started to literally LOL, because the wailing man seems to just be semi-shouting out the words at the wrong time while the rest sing in surprising harmony. What a life we’re all participating in right now!)

Just another experience to add to The Life List, I guess. It’s a hard one, a draining one, but it’s also a special one, and the only one I want to be having right now. There’s nowhere else I need to be than right here, next to my sleeping grandma, with the sounds of Dutch hymns filling my ears. And I take comfort in knowing that as much as this time has aged me, I will never regret for a moment coming home to sit by her side all day long.

PS. They just sang God Bless America. A room full of Dutch-American elders just closed their half-hour of Dutch singing with God Bless America. So, who’s ready to come in with a film crew? First episode, you don’t even have to pay me. It’ll be my gift to Earth.

Blessings, Love, Light, & Wonder

Allie-Sun <3