On aging
Who do we live for?
For those of you who don’t know, my full-time job is Activities at an Elderly Care Center. I spend 8 hours a day every day for five days a week with the elderly.
**
Resident A comes up to me and says she has a question for me. I say okay, what’s up? She says hold on, I need to remember.
After a few moments of deep thinking, she remembers her question and asks it. I respond. We chit chat for a few minutes and start to walk our separate ways.
A moment later, I hear my name again. It’s Resident A one more time. "Brandon! I have a question for you, hold on a moment, I need to remember.”
**
I’ve known since a very young age (before any child in their right mind should be thinking about these things, lol) that I have zero interest in growing old.
Part of that is that I simply do not view life as this incredible gift (another discussion for a later time lol), but primarily it’s that I am a control freak. I don’t like the concept that I could end up in a home following someone else’s schedule, lose my ability to walk one day, or worse.
I have always found beauty in the idea of passing while still healthy and active.
Now, that equation certainly changed when I got married. The goal is and will remain to grow old with Marjorie. We often speak of one of us dying and the next dying a week later. I want to die first so I don’t have to live without her. That’s another discussion for later!
**
Resident B asks if he can go outside. I check with a nurse. She directs me to a supervisor. He directs me to a Doctor. She directs me to another Doctor. I get back with a yes and Resident B is asleep.
**
I think a lot about what you have to look forward to when you’re old. Yes, you have kids and grandkids and whatnot to see (though at a certain age you may not recognize them), but the majority of your time is spent sort of just sitting. I’m not elderly, so I cannot speak to whether or not that feels right. Maybe that becomes the new norm.
For me as a relatively young person, what’s next is what drives me to exist. I try to live in the moment, but I also remind myself there’s plenty ahead. At a certain age, I wonder if you stop thinking ahead.
**
Resident C tells me about the books he wrote when he was younger. There’s an intensely prideful tone in his voice, one I had never heard from him. He speaks eloquently and effortlessly, like he’s reading off of a teleprompter.
When he finishes, he says “I always thought I’d write one more.” I encourage him that there’s always time, that I could transcribe, that there’s always stories to tell. He stutters and struggles to grasp the words to say “I am far too tired.”
**
I want to be clear at this point that I absolutely love my job. The last two weeks alone have honestly changed my life. It’s the first job I’ve ever enjoyed and the first job that I’ve actually felt good about the work I’m doing. I look forward to waking up early for work. I stay past the end of my shift.
I walk the different floors and have conversations with the residents. We speak about whatever each resident can respectively handle. For some, that’s “how is your day going?” For others, it’s “tell me the story about your day trip to South Carolina in ‘54 again?”
The biggest thing, though, is my perspective has been thrown completely out of whack.
I’ve always viewed growing old as this haunting thought. The lack of control, the fear of it all. It all felt so weak to me.
Now I look in the eyes of my residents and see the many lives they’ve lived to get to the moments they’re in. I see an author, a doctor, a teacher, a reverend. I see stories I couldn’t dream up if I tried.
Most importantly, I see that flicker of excitement for what’s coming next. Something as small as a cup of ice can change a day. Something as simple as staying for 5 more minutes in the conversation can shift a mood.
**
Resident D tells me she hasn’t been sleeping well.
I ask why.
She says she doesn’t like to fall asleep without someone in the room.
I say I’ll stay until she’s asleep.
She says I don’t have to, with eyes pleading for me not to believe her.
I say I’ll stay until she’s asleep.
I turn off the lights.
She falls asleep in seconds.
Smiling.
**
Song of the Week: Sylvia by The Antlers