(no subject)

[stoopbeck]

Wow. Guess I got shown.

I angst out a lot about stupid random stuff. Most of my journal is taken up with it. I just got back from painting people's nails in a nursing home. Most of them had no idea what was going on. If I ever complain about how sucky my life is, slap me. Please.

I think hell smells of disinfectant and dispair, of old people and young people who don't care for the places their charges have been, for what they've seen in their eighty-odd years, too old to hide the tears for what they once were, for a whole lifetime worth of memories-- sadness and mirth, laughter and birth, people whose bodies rot as their minds rot away, or, what is worse, their minds remain the same, but all around them there are changes from what they once knew, and there are so few of their old familiar friends to pass the time with...

Comments

And now to step onto my soapbox...

[espritdeterre.livejournal.com]

I used to volunteer in a nursing home for two summers, and it wasn't really that bad. The people obviously don't like to be thought of as invalids or as society's refuse. They're people like everybody else. Granted they can't have sugar (what?!) and most of their families don't get to see them, but the staff usually fall in love with and treat them like family. There was this one cute 4'3" old lady I remember who had such hope. She had suffered a stroke, and she was in a wheel chair. Although a bit loopy, every day she remembered me and wanted to talk to me. And every day, I would hold onto her arm and we would walk down the hall together. In the few months that I was there, she improved drastically, and I'm sure this would not have happened had someone not spoken to and treated her like an adult. All they really want is friendship. I know it's sad and they can seem bitter, but you shouldn't think that getting old has to be so horrible. It's entirely dependent on the person. You can be hopeful and spritely, or mean and impersonal. And you don't have to be old to make that decision.

Re: And now to step onto my soapbox...

[stoopbeck.livejournal.com]

See, I understand that. I've been volunteering at nursing homes since high school. I've seen many different types of homes. A good many of them are truly excellent, with caring staff. Unfortunately a good many of them were the opposite. There are people whose only visitors are whoever happens to be volunteering that week-- their children put them there and forgot them. Then there are the people who are no longer there... My grandfather isn't in a home but everyday there's a little bit less of him... he used to be a concert pianist who played for presidents, and now he can't even play chords... Age sucks. I just don't feel like I have any reason to complain about my life when these people are living a hellish life and keeping up hope. One lady today said that no one had ever taken so much care with her nails. Another told me and Suzanne how happy it made her that we came. And here I am complaining about food quality. That's all I meant. And it's not getting old, per se, that I find horrible, it's the mind going thing and the body no longer responding thing. And the "one day closer to death" thing. That's all. And I love the people, I just hate what's happening to them. If this all makes sense.

[espritdeterre.livejournal.com]

Yeah, well in that case I know what you mean. For a minute there, I was all, "Hey back off old people." And you were all, "Man, I like old people." So I was like, "Oh, that's cool." So you were like, "Alright." Yeah.

[stoopbeck.livejournal.com]

*snerk*

Yeah, no dissing of old people allowed.

[thelasttoknow03.livejournal.com]

Yeah. It's scary...and sad

I've spent a good amount of time in the nursing home with my great-grandmother, so I can empathize.

One time, we were walking to Mamma's room and one resident came up to us and latched on to my mom. She thought Mom was her daughter. In this heartbreakingly sad voice, she said, "Lisa...is that you? Why don't you visit me any more? I'm lonely. I want to go home." It hurt us so much.

Many of the residents stand in front of the glassed-in bird area. They're mesmerized by the birds in their glass cage. I wonder how many of them realize that they are stuck in their own glass prison.

One lady always sits in the lobby, clutching a white teddy bear dressed in a Christmas outfit. She's there every day, without fail, holding on to her bear for dear life.

God. I am so scared of being mentally fine but not able to express that I am fine. Trapped in my own head. People treating me like I'm five...when I am just as intelligent and mentally competent as ever.

I'd love to live to a ripe old age, just as long as I'm not trapped in my own head...I'm not sure I could think of anything worse.

[stoopbeck.livejournal.com]

Oh, man, no... I always worry about that. There's actually kind of a funny story in our family about it that scares the crap out of me, but whatever... My dad's grandmother had a stroke. She was lying in a hospital bed and my dad's parents were talking to the doctor. He walked over to the bed, picked up her arm, said, "Hellooo... Miss Willie? Are you in there?" and turned to my grandparents and said, "Let's face it, Mr and Mrs West, she's going to be a vegetable for the rest of her life." Through a coma and stroke damage and whatever, my greatgrandmother grated out, "To hell with you." She taught herself how to read and walk and talk, and lived for quite some time afterward. Good story. Bad part-- this guy was willing to consign her to a bed for the rest of her life, and she could hear every word he said. That scares me. What scares me even more is the possibility of losing my mind. One of the people we painted nails for yesterday kept worrying that the colors we had were "too dangerous" and that we were going to keep her hands. Another is convinced he's the President. Gah. Enough to keep me awake at night, right?