Assume A Position
Posted by Pinhole at 4/15/2009 7:08 PM 
Categories: Transitions, honesty, Writing, Family, Humor, Thoughts
Categories: Transitions, honesty, Writing, Family, Humor, Thoughts
Decisions, decisions.
For all of the fact gathering, and cud chewing, in an attempt to arrive at a reasonable judgment, it is my experience that these elusive creatures are born rather than made. What I imagined to be a seriously considered independent personal choice, I recently traced, through a series of events, to circumstances that occurred at least 17 years ago. A lengthy gestation by any standard, yet I assure you I could have tracked its origins much further.
Given such a span, conception naturally becomes an irrelevant and forgotten element in the process, but this doesn’t make the journey of discovery any less fascinating. Bear with me while I attempt to hammer a nail in the coffin of free will.
Of all the decisions in my memory, one of them stands out as most intriguing, perhaps, because it wasn’t mine. A history of manipulation and guilt almost certainly made it more difficult, not easier, for my father and his siblings to put their mother in a nursing care facility. Guilt has a funny way of making people doubt their own motives.
Feeling, somewhat justifiably, that Life had handed her a sack of lemons, rather than concoct an icy refreshment Grandma chose to allow the fruit to languish on the counter and rot; proceeding to inform anyone within earshot of the details of its continued decomposition.
On two separate occasions a husband raced her to the grave, and won. The first succumbed to a ruptured appendix and the second died from what I can only assume was fatigue. No children left at home to help with the farm, she was forced to take up residence in a small town nearby, and found herself living in the half of a duplex owned, but not occupied, by Mrs. Clark.
Mrs. Clark was a quiet, selfless widow. Although older than Grandma, she had a driver’s license, a car, and a disposition better suited to operating a large gas-powered vehicle, so would often take Grandma to buy groceries, or run any necessary errands. Living in such close proximity Mrs. Clark could also help monitor Grandma’s numerous prescriptions. To anyone willing to take a second look, it was clear that the services and friendship offered by Mrs. Clark would ease any burden. Unfortunately, gratitude wasn’t in Grandma’s repertoire.
Once Mrs. Clark left for that Big Duplex in the Sky, it was necessary to make other arrangements. For a short time Grandma tried living alone in a small house in the same small town, but without Mrs. Clark nearby to help ration her pill intake Grandma tended to overmedicate, and spend much of her time flying around the living room. The flying itself wasn’t such an issue until she began gaining sufficient altitude that landing became a problem. The last time they peeled Grandma off the ceiling it was clear that a 24-hour care facility was the most viable option, though no one felt any particular sense of glee at the prospect.
For years I was too absorbed in my own journey to view these circumstances with anything resembling empathy. And being so absorbed, any sense of objectivity was obviously lacking concerning my own path. Glancing over my shoulder, now, I can easily manufacture more logic than when looking forward, and, for the present, the universe appears to appreciate chaos as much as order.
It would be comforting to think I am able to maintain a little control over my destiny, but yesterday I caught my boys leafing through nursing home brochure...
And I began to wonder.
The Count understands your feelings, having gone through it with his 95 year-old mother.But she became a danger to herself by forgetting to turn things off in her home. But, we can't feel guilty...we all have to go through this if we live long enough. Free will,logic,
belief system, etc. are human inventions, sorrow and joy are not.
They are the human spirit. Best wishes. Count Sneaky
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True enough.
Thanks.
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As one who is only a hop, skip, jump,and a bad landing from the big Raisin Ranch, himself, the Count is not predisposed to challenge fate or medical science. Two little gray-haired ladies at tea. One reaches out to the other's ear and pulls out a suppository.
"Well," says the other."That explains what happened to my keys!" But theriously, as Red Skelton used to say,
I think I made a wrong turn at the last galaxay. Count Sneaky
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Great one, Count! Cracked me up.
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One of the things we old'uns fear the most is the loss of independence. And we seldom realize we never had it in the first place!
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Didn't we?
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I wouldn't worry. They're probably looking for landscaping ideas, nothing more.
My wife has a room reserved for me at Alaska Psychiatric Institute. Maybe I can get her to reserve the room next to mine for you. She says it's a nice place, but you can't have salt on your food.
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No Salt?! Does the room have a window? Or, internet services?
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Yes, it's got a window (with one hell of a view, I might add.)
It's got internet service too, but the only sites you're allowed to visit are those dealing with Norwegian mythology and llamas. Go figure.
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Hey! I like Norwegian mythology. When I'm bored anyway. Not so sure about the llamas...
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Sounds like we might need to book a whole wing.
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What?! Clearly, your boys are behind... the girls have a room reserved at a 'lovely' 'retirement community' for you down the hall from mom and dad! (you guys can get your exercise walking back and forth to visit)
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You might want to check with your Mom on how she feels about the proximity of the rooms. The same hall, in the same galaxy, might be a problem.
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If I were you I'd start hinting about that Institute in Alaska. With you and Wolf in adjacent rooms that would be quite a place!
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Yeah, if your definition of "quite a place" is "potential black hole".
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At least promise me you'll enjoy flying around the living room ... come on, life has to have some perks!
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I suppose you're right...now, where did I put those goggles?
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My wife has agreed to a simpler solution. I misplace the keys three times in a day and it's off to the woods I go. The difficulties of age are best laughed at. Crying takes too much energy.
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I agree wholeheartedly. With your wife. I simply refuse to grow old.
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One day when we were walking past a newly built residential building, my godson told me he would buy a flat there for me, and one for his parents, just as soon as he grows up (he was about 4 at the time). He said he'd get rooms right next door to each other. We walked around the corner, and I saw the sign indicating that it was a retirement center, and only then realized exactly what he had in mind.
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Wow! My kids didn't even start looking that young!
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Listen, as long as you have created a blog?
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