Yesterday was a major highlight of my life since I have been incarcerated in the nursing home. I got out for a major event - my granddaughter's wedding.  And it was sensational.  The bride was a vision in white in a gown with a long train. My great grandkids were the ring bearers and flower girl.

 

The featured food was roast pig - a specialty of Uncle Al Dick. He was up at 4 AM getting things going.   The electric warmers blew out the electrical circuits four times, but everything ended well.  The pig was sensational!

 

It was a joy to be able to smooze with friends and church members who have shared in communication with me. In fact, it was like rejoing the human race. And what better occasion than the joining of two attractive, personable young people in life's big adventure - marriage.

 

Hundreds of pictures were taken.  You willl be seeing them here soon.

Around this nursing home, you hear in the dining room, you hear it in the hallways you hear it come out of the rooms of the residents:

 

"I want to go home!!!"

 

 Well, it doesn' take long for the pure sameness of life here to drive one to terminal boredom. And, yes, I do want to go home.  Yesterday the MD came in to visit me - the first time since I have been in Heritage Manor. He says the body situation looks OK and I can go home when the therpists think I will be able to handle things without s support staff. So, now I have laid it on Noel the chief physical therapist here.  He has worked wonders with me and I now see an immediate future at home.  Maybe a week.  Or two weeks.. Anyway, homecoming is in sight.

 

You can bet that continual updates will be coming from here.

Yesterday,  I was in the bathroom, sitting  on the throne ,  patiently awaiting some action, when to door to my room opened and a frizzled grey head poked in and took a good look at me. I identified her as one of the nonsense babblers from down the hall. She then ducked  out and closed the door.

 

Later that day, I was working at my computer when I had the feeling someone was in the room behind me. I turned around to find that this same person, who, believe me, could be cast as the Wicked Witch of the West, was making herself at home in my room.

 

"This is not your room!" I yelled at her. (You have to yelll at people around here to be heard.) She replied with some gobbleldegook no

one could understand, so I pointed to the door and said - "Your room is down there."

 

Blank look  - and more gobbledegook.

 

now what do I do to get her out of here?

 

I wheeled my  chair to confront her and pointed out the door.  Then I got my chair so close she could not enter the room further.   At this point she gave up and left.

 

Just another littlle vignette from Life In The Nursing Home.

Three time a day, there is a reason to to go someplace and commune with others.  This is meal time in the main dining room. Residents are allowed to join whoever they wish at a table. In actual practice newbies are seated acccording to the whims of the dining room staff. I was fortunate to be seated with a group or 6 or 7 who have a table in a sunroom type alcove of the West. dining room. My dining mates, with one exception are all women.  Ages range from 96 down to 82.

 

Needless to say, there are major hearing problems with this group.  Everything gets said loudly and more than once. One person is blind - another is totally deaf. Neverthless we have sense of community among us and the social interaction here represents a change from being in ones' room.

 

The most common bitching is about the slownesss of the arrival of food.  So, there is a lot of craning necks to see if other tables are being served before ours.  Doesn't seem to matter if one arrives at the table early or halfway through the meal.  Food will arrive when it arrives. And there is never enough coffee because it has to be brought by a waiter. I don't understand why they don't leave a coffee pot on the table.

 

Ordering of food can be an experience full of surprises.  For example, I always start breakfast with oatmeal. The servers include some people from Congo who speak a strange kind of English. So, one morning I get bacon and eggs instead of my oatmeal.  Bacon and eggs would normally be the second course.  I asked where my oatmeal was and got puzzled looks. So, I said "Forget it - my eggs and bacon will be cold by the time I finish oatmeal."  There was a conference of servers and they headed to the kitchen. Then they showed up with three bowls of oatmeal.

 

Go figure.

 

Well if all of this seems massively unexciting to you, wait until it is your turn to be in a nursing home.  Your focus on what is interesting will take a major U turn inthe road of life.

Let me tell, you this is a world of its own.  The buildings  here at Heritage Manor in Normal, IL are clean and attractive, the staff is extremely helpful and - yes, I can saying loving.

 

But the residents, as we are called, consider this to be their home and expect to live out the rest of their lives here. I an an exception -- one of the ten percent who are here for therapy to to get well - and go home.

 

When I first arrived my impression was that I was in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next. The recreational rooms were occupied by people, most of who were sleeping or marginally conscious. When I tried to start conversations with other residents most of them were non-responsive or who spoke the strange language they have in their heads. Add to this mix, the ones who continuously  make ugly nonsense sounds.

 

Many of them are unable to feed themselves and are assisted by the staff. I marvel at the paitience and consideration that the staff people provide to them.  There is a lot of hugging and sweet talk -  something that must be sadly missing from the lives of these residents.

 

There is a schedule of activities for those who are seeking diversion. Outside entertainers sometimes come in. I turned around from my computer the other day to see two full-dress clowns in my doorway.

 

I have found myself a group that I eat meals with.  We have a dining alcove of our own and have gotten to know when our fellow diners are ill. Meals are served on a trays in the rooms of those who prefer to eat there. The over-riding philosophy is that this should be as like home as possible.  That means, that there are snacks available as wanted. The nurses assistants help us get up in the morning and in bed at night.  They dispense pills four times a day. Also, they watch to see that people are eating as they should..

 

The highlight of my day is the therapy session which lasts an hour.  My therapy regime continues to be increasingly challenging.  I almost can't believe that I walked, pushing a walker, about a city block today. This is a guy who couldn't get himself out of bed two months ago.  I can't image how frustrated I would be to know I had to spend the rest of my life in this overly-protective environment.  But I have my goal - and you can be sure thatI willl be attending my granddaughter's wedding July 14.  How I look forward to it!.

 

 

 

 

Our co-pastor at church sent this one on to me.  this is a British group with significant mileage on them.

 

 

 A Zimmer, in England, is a walker.  Enjoy!

 

 

I finallly have been able to get on line today and am so touched by all of the messages you, my blogging friends, sent .

 

This has been a trip  on the narrow edge of the Valley of Death.  I had a radical reaction to the chemotherapy they gave me for my prostate cancer and was hospitalzed for three weeks, then on to the nursing home where I am right n ow.  There were no computers in either place, so I have brought my computer to my room at the nursing home  and am accessing via Verizon wireless.  Works fine.

 

I did make a try at going back home, but am stilll too weak to function without a lot of help.  It was too much to expect PPenny to be tending to me , keeping her job going and tending house.  SO, I will be here at the nursing home for another 3 or 4 weeks.  I am making progress f rom complete collapse of the leg muscles and that is goodl

 

More later.  Gotta check my bank accounts.

 

Love from Pete

A recent issue of Time Magazine ran an article about an online service that enables people 60 years and older to offfer advice and share life experiences with younger people. www.elderwisdomcircle.org

 

 

It started with a 45-year-old man named Doug Meckelson who had always turned to his grandmother and favorite mentor.  When she died in 1987 he found similar counsel when he volunteered at a senior center in San Francisco. "As I listened to these elders," he recalls, "I thought  how great it would be to set up a web site where cybergrandparents could share their experiences to help others.

 

This was the genesis of Elder Wisdom Circle, a goup of people 60 years or older who offer advice to anyone writing in to seek it.

 

The web site, started with one advice giver, now has about 600, most of whom find out through their senior center or by word of mouth.  They field about 3,500 letters a month, 35% of which come from young people in their teens to early twenties.

 

What a wonderful idea!  Check into the web site and learn more about it. Maybe some of you will want to become advice givers.

Right now I am especially appreciating the wealth of support I have been getting from family and friends. First I want to tell those of you who have commented how much I appreciate hearing from you. Penny and I have been getting several phone calls a day from those who say they will take us where we need to go, do grocery shopping for us, whatever.  These are the riches one can gain as one goes through life.  And they mean much more than the material things, when crunch time hits.

 

The good news for today is that they have removed the iron maiden brace from my body and I am FREE again!. Took a shower this morning.  What a simple pleasure. It will be weeks until the fractures are healed but in the meantime, by being careful, I can have fairly normal movement. They won't let me drive until they take another look at the busted verterbrae in acouple of weeks. That I am looking forward to.  You see, I am Penny's transportation as well as my own, so we have had to draw on the kindness of others to tote us around.  I have had 6 doctor appoitnments this week already.  Penny has had three.

 

But this is not written as a complaint. It is just recognition that I am really one lucky fellow to have these riches.

If you haven't been seeing comments from me in your blogs, I think I have an acceptible excuse.

 

On Friday the 13th I fell backward down a flight of 10 steps and broke my back.  Actually, broke two vertebrae between the shoulder blades. It was very exciting for those in our section of the condo. I was pretty noisy about it and everyone came out to try to help me where I was laying on the landing with my feet up the stairs. The EMT guys were there in 5 minutes, called for more help when they saw where I was and my size. So, 4 big techs got me boarded (immobilized) and carried me down two more flights to the ambulance.

 

I was in the hospital two nights and they have me in a brace that is kin to the iron maiden. Looks like I will be wearing it for about 6 weeks.

 

I am now (carefully) mobile.  I have a cane (even got cane use training at the hospital).  They controlled the pain with medication the first three days and I have little pain right now. But I am now dependent on family and friends to get to the medical appointments and other errands. How I hate being dependent on others!!!  But how grateful I am that so many have offer to take me anywhere, shop for me, etc.

 

It is not that I am trying to match Penny and Gene Hameroff in this organ recital. I would be most happy not to be the physical wreck star of the month.  But, when you live long enough, these medical misadventures happen.

My friend Jerry brought me an article in the New York Times that proves it is never too late to succeed at writing. Harry Bernstein has a succcessful memoir, "The Invisible Wall" about his youth in a poverty-stricken street in an English mill town. And he is 96 years old!

 

His writing, as reviewed in the New York Times, is "in a forth-right voice and with heart-breaking details about his family's struggles to survive.

 

He is being deluged by reporters and has received a cavalcade of letters.

 

That is impressive enough,; but the thing that grabs me is that he says he still has a lot to say. Indeed he should - in 96 years there has been a lot of living for him to draw upon.

This posting has nothing to do with late life or health matters. However, the story is so bizarre people have told me that I have to post it.

 

Our 18-unit condo is on a small lake in Bloomingon, IL. We have a vast back lawn that goes from the building down to the shore of the lake. This lake is actually a city park, although they do nothing to maintain it.  And it is home to a host of huge Canadian geese. They mainly eat grass, so the are out there by the dozens squawking and pooping and generally being a nuisance and health hazard

 

Comes Spring and the mating season starts. All day all night honking and chasing each other.

 

The front door to our section of the condo is on the side of the building away from the lake and two of the geese have decided that they are going to nest right near our front door. And they have become extremely aggressive. When we leave the place to go to get our cars, twice the have flown up at us, beating their wings at our heads. And they are fearless.  They laid a couple of eggs by a shrub near the front door, so I threw them away, hoping that would discourage them. To no effect.

 

Now, these geese are a protected species. Why, I don't know.  It isn't because they are endangered.  Their numbers here have grown exponentially in the last five years. This means there is literally nothting we can do to them physically to drive them off. We have talked to Blooming Parks and Recreation people. They can't or won't do anything. We have talked to the State of Illinois environmental people In Springfield. They have problem with geese down there and can't solve them.  We have talked to the mayor of Bloomington who is coming by to check it out. We have checked with a dog handler who has border collies that patrol the geese at the nearby golf course - but he isn't interested in using the dogs on our geese.

 

About all that we have been able to do is use a super soaker with some ammonia in the water.  When I squirt their faces they run away a little bit come right back.

 

Argggggggh!!!

 

This is ridiculous. We have to take a cane with me when I leave with Penny and be prepared to swing at them so we can get to our car.

 

If any of you have ideas for a solution, wow,, would we appreciate it.

 

I am deeply touched and warmed by the reponses you have given to my last couple of postings. It is heart-warming to know that we  have come to regard each other as friends and allies.

 

When I started Late Life Crisis I had no idea of the sense of community (and family) that would derive from it. So as our circle of connenctiosn grew, it inspired us to keep this blog going. We appreciate the constancy of our "regulars" in the comment column.

 

God bless you - and much love from

Pete and Penny

At this point in my life - and with my state of heatlh - I have been reflecting on what the focus of my existence should be. It is human nature to be looking ahead.  We do so to prepare ourselves for the future.  We do it in ancticipation.  And some times we do it in dread of a future event.

 

But things change when one knows that what is ahead might be nearer than we wish. So, I am thinking about the way the animal kingdom dealls with life.

 

The answer is they live for the moment. All that exists for them is what is happening now - what is in front them and around them. And they make the most of it. That, my friends, is not a bad mode to be in for those in my position.

 

So, this is the way I am now living life. I am seizing the day. I am concentrating on the now and making the most of it. I am not borrowing potential trouble from the future. The great news is that it is working for me. My days are full and satisfying. I have appreciation that I am still able to function as well as I ever have.

 

The result is that my morale is excellent. .

 

And every day is a treasure.

In 1999 I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and have been under treatment ever since with what is called hormone therapy. This has knocked the cancer back and kept it localized. Now, the physicians advise me the cancer has jumped out of the cage and is moving into other parts of the body. So, we now go into a different phase of treatment.

 

Last Friday I spent 6 hours at the Cancer Center having my first infusions for a chemo therapy program. So far this has gone quite well. I have no nausea, my appetite is good and I am able to continue with my life in normal fashion. I am still working with my partners in the e-newsletter business and  am busy setting up an office with a local manager for Central U.S.A.

 

I have been warned that, in time, the chemo will damage the white cells that protect us from invasion by disease. When this happens, I will have to avoid crowds - no handshaking and hugging, etc. So, while things are still relatively good, I will be attending church and social functions.

 

I am in good spirits and only wish there was some way I could make all this easier on Penny, who keeps feeling that there are things she needs to be doing for me that she can't.  I have told her that she is a tower of strength for me. She has consulted with the dietitians at the Cancer Center regarding my food regimen. And I get a lot of wonderful massages.

 

So, life goes on. How is all this for an Organ Recital?

We continue with the material Gene Hameroff sent us "You're Only As Old As You Think You Are":

 

We all are aware of the stereotypes ot the condition of aging -  things such as failing mental capacity, failure of certain physical functions such as hearing, feebleness, senility, etc. Although some of these conditions apply to some aging people, it is far from a given fact that it is universal.

 

So, where do these sterotypes originate?

 

Negative depictiions of aging can be found everywhere - from greeting cards to best-selling books to the media. We think that television, in particular, has a major effect. Yale School of Public Health surveyed a group of people age 60 to 92 who watched an average of 21 hours of television per week, and found that the more TV they watched, the more negative were their beliefs about aging.

 

The negative  stereotyping most likely starts early - for example the wicked witches in fairy tales are gnarled and wrinkled. This sinks in deeply. Then, as aging occurs, some individuals start applying these negative beliefs to themselves.

 

To a great extent, we don't question these stereotypes because we've absorbed them so completely that we are not even conscious of them. Becoming aware of their presence in everyday life is a first step toward questioning their validity. 

 

So, what can people do to fight these stereotypes? In the TV study, the Yale group asked participants to keep a journal describing the way that older people were represented. The participants were shocked to discover how often they were made the target of jokes, and that they were frequently omitted from programming.

 

"It's like we are non-existent" wrote one participant.

 

In your own life, make a point to pay attention to more positive images of aging - active, effective people im politics, the arts and the community. The writers of the report say "We do not refer to "superstars" who are jumping out of planes at age 80. It is too easy to write them off as exceptional, having nothing to do with you."

 

Also, spend time with older roles models, such as relatives and residents of your community and learn about their strengths and contributions.

 

It is important to recogize the many places where a realistic attitude and positive action can make a real difference.

My friend Gene Hameroff, who has send us some great postings for Late life, has done it again. This information is from Bottom Line Health:

 

 

Becca Levy, Phd., of Yale School of Public Health reports that "Our studies showed just that.  It involved 660 people, ages 50 to 94, who were asked questions that explored  the ways they perceived their own aging. The study participants were asked how much they agreed with statements such as "Things keep getting worse as I get older." and "I am as happy now as I was when I was younger."

 

Nearly 25 years later, researchers tracked down those participants who were still alive and how long the others had lived. Those who had expressed a more positive  view when surveyed lived a median of seven years longer, even after differences in their ages and health at that time were taken into account.  It held true for both men and women who were over age 60 as well as for those who were younger.

 

 

There is no definitve explanation, but we think that several mechanisms  are involved. Some are psychological and might well involve the harmful effects of stress on bodily systems.

 

Another piece is likely to be  behavioral - people who believed that  aging means unavoidable memory decline, for example, quite possibly won't try as long or as hard  to remember, won't bother to apply strategies  that could help. Similarly, people who think there's nothing  that can be done about hearing loss probably aren't  as quick to seek medical attention if they develop hearing problems.

 

In the longevity study we found that views on aging can affecct can affect a person's will to live. This explained, at least in part,  the difference in survival.

 

When you don't believe  that benefits of long life will outweigh the hardships, you're less likely to follow a healthful lifestyle and seek treatmens for a prolonged life.

 

This one was passed on to us by our friend Lorrie Gummere:

 

After Christmas, a teacher asked her young pupils how they spent the holiday away from school.

 

One child wrote:

 

We always used to spend the holiday with Grandma and Grandpa. The used to live in a big brick house but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Florida.  Now they live in a tin box and have rocks painted green to look like grass.

 

They ride around on their bicycles and wear name tags because they don't know who they are anymore.

 

They go to a building called a wrecked center, but they must have got it fixed because it is all okay now, and do exercises there. But they don't do them very well. There is a swimming pool, too, but in it they all jump up and down with hats on.

 

At their gate is a doll house with a little old man sitting in it. He watches all day so nobody can escape. But sometimes they sneak out. They go cruising in their golf carts.

 

Nobody cooks there. They just eat out.  And they eat the same thing every night - early birds.

 

Some of the people can't get out past the man in the doll house. The ones who do get out bring food back to the wreck center for pot luck.

 

My Grandma says that Grandpa worked all his life to earn his retardment and says I should work hard so I can be retarded someday, too.

 

When I earn my retardment , I want to be the man in the doll house. Then I will let people out so they can visit their grandkids.