Being Moved When You Age

Being Moved When You Age

 

 

I recently fell ill for five months and found myself... not in my home but in Brookdale Park, a Senior Independent Living community.  It was quite a change from my retirement to the woods where I expected to live my final days and die in the comfort of my own home.

It's very beautiful here and the residents and hosts are friendly but it doesn't feel like home.  Instead of cathedral ceilings, I have straight, cracker box ceilings.  It took everything I had left from my retirement (which was basically nothing) after spending it on trying to heal Diane's stomach cancer in order to purchase a double-wide trailer with cathedral ceilings.  Now it's taking everything I have to live here.

It's alright I guess.  It's just not what I'm used to.  I was trying to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city and have enough room between my place and the neighbors to work on my music without disturbing them too much.  Now I'm in an apartment and the neighbors are close but so far no one has complained about the music.  In fact, I'm becoming a bit of a celebrity around here.  Of course, I'm playing an acoustic guitar right now and not my electric.  There ARE some people here who like blues but most of them seem to be into Country music (yuk) rather than the type of music I generally play.  I even got cussed out by two different people for not knowing San Antonio Rose.  Boy, those old ladies can get MAD if you don't know their favorite song!  I'm just glad they didn't pick up their purses and start hitting me over the head!  Haha

I'm trying to make the best of things.  I get one meal a day... the large meal being lunch in the dining room.  Sometimes the selection isn't optimal for me since I have no teeth so I have to get creative in my ordering.  I don't REALLY want to order a ten dollar hamburger everyday.  They have a nasty habit of substituting a pasta dish when I order potatoes... sometimes with cheese, which is bad for my IBS, and the pasta makes me choke because it gets stuck in the flap where I pulled out my vocal cords trying to pull out my breathing tube after my second CABG.  I guess I'm going to have to be more firm about getting what I ask for instead of what they WANT to give me.  I realize that there are a lot of people ordering a lot of different things, but they DO have electronic devices on which they can write the orders.  These are the same devices on which they charge you for your meal.

I need to start cooking again.  My sister did buy me some new pots and pans.  They're not the expensive ones I bought and are used to but I COULD cook with them.  I just have to wait for payday and see if I have any money left for food.  I have very little in my refrigerator and pantry at the moment.  That's another thing I have to get used to.  It's just strange being without a way to get the things I need.  I can starve myself of some of my medication if I have to in order to buy food.  They seem to be overdosing me on blood pressure medicine at the moment anyway.  Either that or my heart is just on its last legs with the arteries being so plugged.  I DO still seem to be getting around fairly well with my mom's rollator though so as long as I don't have a sudden blood pressure drop, I'm okay.  I can cook what I need when I get some food and what I need right now is spinach.  Strangely enough, if I start getting warts, I know that I need spinach.  I had three on my foot and ate spinach everyday for two weeks and they went away.  Fifty-nine years of trial and error has let me know what my body needs.  Oh, and I also need to learn to cook meat that's tender enough for me to eat.  My heart still needs it to heal.  I really don't get enough protein from Vegan diets or even eating just fish for some reason.  Eating beef seems to line out my blood pressure generally.

Socializing is strange at first.  I'm lucky that I smoke or I probably wouldn't have many friends yet.  Playing guitar and singing helps as well.  They keep wanting me to perform for the Fun Friday event but I'm not performance ready at this time and I don't have the equipment that I really need to make it a better experience.  Some people are suspicious of strangers at first because they're afraid that you're going to "narc" on them for smoking cigarettes outside their door instead of going to the designated areas.  Heck.  I don't care what they do.  If they want to drink in the smoking area (which I don't think is allowed since the American Bistro serves alcohol), I don't care.  It's cheaper for them to buy their own than pay $4.00 a beer.  I know what it's like to be on a very strict budget.  I just try to get along with everyone and stay out of their squabbles with other tenants as much as possible.  Being probably the youngest tenant here makes things a little strange sometimes and I feel like an outcast most of the time except when I'm with my friends at the smoking table.  I try to keep them laughing as much as possible but there are some days that it's hard for me to joke around.  It would be nice to find someone who can make me laugh too.  A couple of the ladies come up with a nice zinger on occasion but many of the people here can't hear or don't have the mental faculties to carry on a conversation.  Sometimes people avoid me because they think I'm one of the staff unless I'm carrying around my guitar.  I guess I need to carry around my guitar more often.

I HAVE gotten the nickname Superman here since I generally wear a Superman shirt when I play guitar for the ladies.  It was my performance outfit online so it may as well be here too.  The old folks like Superman anyway.  As long as it makes people happy, who is it hurting?  The only people who seem to object are my family.  Ah well.  I think they're at least used to it by now.  I really don't know what they have against Superman.  Maybe they're Batman fans.  hah

If I had my vehicle, the Willowbrook Mall is only one block away.  I could probably make it with the rollator if I took enough sit breaks but I'm a little uneasy about getting out of the range of my locator until the doctor gets my blood pressure medications straightened out.  Right now my body is holding me captive from going and exploring the hot spots.  Of course, money is an issue at the moment as well.  After having someone somehow getting my new debit card number (which I haven't even had a chance to use) and putting a bunch of $39.00 charges on it, it hasn't left much to even pay the bills.  My sister went to the bank and thinks that she finally got it straightened out.  They cancelled the card again so HOPEFULLY they won't be able to get the new card number AGAIN.  Every time I ordered the MIDI cables for my electric piano, my mom lost the card and cancelled it anyway so it was useless for me to try to order anything online.  I'm not sure what happened this time.  I went to the websites listed on the bank statement and they appeared to be phishing sites though so I suspect that someone tried to order something with my card, perhaps by accident.

I guess the biggest adjustment to being moved into a place like this is the loss of control over your own life.  Yes, I forget people's names sometimes and I can't remember telephone numbers since the mini-stroke but other than that, my brain seems to be functioning fairly well.  Maybe I'm not functioning as well as I think I am but everyone here seems to feel that I'm functioning just fine.  Yes, I have problems when the diarrhea hits and my blood pressure drops making me nearly pass out or completely pass out once but I'm on a medication to help control that now.  If it works, I should be fine.  That and not eating milk products does make a difference.  It's probably good to be in a place where there are people in case something DOES happen, but it's still hard losing control over your finances and possessions.  I'm not BIG on possessions but I WOULD like to have what I need to do the things I'd like to do to at least bring a little happiness to others.  Knowing that you're probably serving a life sentence in a place, even if it's nice, is a difficult adjustment.  A nice prison is still a prison.  I'm not really confined since I can leave when I want as long as I check out and back in so they know why the locator alarm is going off but it still feels as if you're being monitored.  I understand that it's for my health but it's still disconcerting.  I don't feel old enough to be in this situation.  I'm pretty sure that even the 80+ year olds feel the same way.  Still, I'm quite a bit younger than most of the people here so my feeling this way is probably a little more justified.

I guess I'll get used to it eventually.  I might have to have a few good cries with some of the other tenants who feel that they were snatched from their lives and abandoned in a place out of the way of the family on occasion, but I'll get used to it.  It's just a major adjustment.

This isn't the first time that God has moved me around.  I know that I'm helping people but I thought that I had finally finished my work and was moving on in the place in which I chose for that purpose.  Maybe I'll be miraculously healed again and be able to travel around to other places to cheer up the elderly again.  Maybe I'll just finish my time here.  This place wouldn't be so lonely if I had a mate and a vehicle.  I envy those who do.  I guess I'll just have to wait to see what God has in store.  I'm just having to do without so many of the things that I used to have at my fingertips and having to do without the company of my pets that I'm feeling stir-crazy.  Well, it's almost 2:00am and my mind is very tired so I guess I had better go back to bed.  Maybe one of these days I'll get used to this place enough to be able to sleep at night.

Love, Hope, Peace, and Christ Be With You,

Cal-el

The Release

The Release


It had finally happened.  For all of her prior threats and attempts, she had finally done it. 
He was tired of her always running back to the abuse and using again and told her it was over.  He just didn't care anymore.  He was tired of having his emotions jacked with.  This time he was through and he let her know in no uncertain terms.  Her lies and attempts to drag him into her drama were going to end whether or not she liked it.




"Susan, it's over.  I can't take anymore.  I'm tired of the bullshit.  You've fucked me over and fucked around on me one too many times."



"I'll cut myself.  I'll take all of my pain meds if you do this to me.  I'll drink alcohol with them and you'll never see me again, Bob!  I'll kill myself!"




"Yeah, yeah, yeah.  How many times have you told me that and how many times have you tried?  You end up in rehab, call me, tell me that you're going to get yourself straightened out, then go right back to drinking and doing drugs and fucking every Tom's hairy dick you see!  I'm DONE!"




"No Bob!  You can't!  I love you.  Those other guys didn't mean anything!"




"Yeah, well evidently I didn't mean anything to you either.  They got way more of your pussy than I ever did.  All I wanted to do was love you and male love to you and you slept around like a hairy little TRAMP!  If they turned you inside out, you'd look like a pin cushion.  How much did THEY love you?  How much did THEY sacrifice for you?  A man can only take so much and you pushed me WAY beyond that point.  I MEAN it!  This time it's OVER!"




"I'll kill myself this time!  I really will!"
"Fine!  Kill yourself!"




Bob slammed down the phone and went out to drown his troubles and forget.




Susan started to cut herself but decided on another course of action.  Instead of just taking her sleeping pills this time she would mix all of her pills and wash them down with a bottle of vodka.




As she sat on her bed, she opened the drawer on her bedside table.  She took out each bottle of her meds and unscrewed the tops.  She unscrewed the top from her bottle of vodka and started deciding which pills to take first.




"I'll start with the Dilaudid and let is start making me drowsy then I'll take my antidepressants and my heart medications" she thought.




She took the remaining held bottle of Dilaudid, washing it down with a big gulp of vodka.  Next, she grabbed the antidepressants and slugged them down.  She was starting to feel really drowsy now and was afraid that she might pass out before she got the red of the meds down.




Susan summoned her will and grabbed her blood pressure medications which had just been filled and started gulping them down with large shots of vodka.  It took her a few handfuls to get them all down but she managed to swallow them down.  Once they were down, she put the bottles back in the drawer so no one could see them and finished off the vodka and hid the bottle under the bed. 




She lay in bed for a few minutes and the phone rang.  The called ID showed that it was Bob.




"He must be calling to apologize" she drowsily thought."




She reached for the phone and had massive heart failure.  Yes, she had done it this time.  The blood pressure medications had done the trick.  Her lifeless body lay on the bed, her arm loosely hanging off of the bed.




When she didn't answer, Bob called back.  No answer.  He tried again.  Still no answer.  After the third time he called the paramedics.




When they got there, rigor mortis had started setting in.  Bob was 1,800 miles away so there was no way he could be there but he had instructed the paramedics to call him and let him know.




The phone rang.  It was the paramedics.
"Hello," said Bob.  "How is she."




"I'm sorry to tell you this.  Are you sitting down."




"Yes."




He already knew what they were going to say.




"She's dead."




"I'm sorry.  I knew it had to happen soon or later."




"We're sorry too, Mr..."




"Bob is fine."




"We're sorry too, Bob."




"Alright.  Thank you.  Goodbye."




Bob hung up the phone, let out a long sigh, then felt a sensation different than what he thought he would feel.  He had been released from the constant worry and torment of her whining and crying about her problems.  What was this sensation coming over him?




For the first time in a very, very long time he felt... relief.