At our church, there is a longtime tradition of joining hands and singing the "Lord's Prayer - Our Father." When I attend the early Rite I and more traditional service, the service does not embrace this tradition. And I really miss it. In a world where we are divided by so many factors, the opportunity to join hands, hearts and voices in prayer is rare and precious.
For many of our elderly members who live alone, this is a rare and blessed opportunity to touch and be touched. There are a countless physical, emotional and neurological benefits of human touch. As we age and live increasingly solitary lives, our human need for contact is often suppressed and ignored.
The release of oxytocin is released as the cuddle hormone and the stress hormone cortisol is reduced as well as blood pressure and slowing the heart rate.
Friday, December 27, 2019
Monday, December 9, 2019
Why Help Someone Who is not Family
For the last month I have been very involved in the life of an 87yo friend. She has needed greater help to stay in her home and transition at a rate that is comfortable to her to assisted living. Her sons are out of state and rarely contact her but by phone/email. In late November, she fell in her home and ended up in the ER. She did not have a stroke. She was found to be in relatively good health, but no longer safe to live on her own. I jumped in with both feet to make sure she was not alone in navigating this process and sometimes have doubted my decision to do so. She needs a local advocate, a pal, a visitor to keep her connected with the outside world. We all do. Several people have asked me why I'm doing this for Lucy and why I don't just drop the situation and let her kids handle it. In short, they won't, they can't, they still think she should be able to handle it all despite the evidence to the contrary. They haven't for the last 10 years I've known her and won't expand their level of involvement even when it's warranted. This makes me sad, because Lucy can't be the only senior with this experience. She's just the one with whom I have connected. Why? She has all but served as my surrogate grandmother for the entire time I have known her. She raised 2 sons (the same age difference as mine) and managed subsidized senior housing to augment her social security income. She cared for folks who lived in her buildings in Montana when their families left them alone. When they had no families. When they had no one but themselves to rely on.
The first time I worked with Lucy we were assigned to facilitate a taco bar for a Junior Youth Conference at our church. At that time, she was in her mid 70s and hadn't cooked for a group in some time, and never tacos. Since I was elbow deep in Cub Scouts at the time, we joined forces in the experience in feeding youth and set out with a plan. We made a grocery list, filled the trunk and back seat of her convertible (yes, I see the irony there) with food stuffs, assembled the ingredients, enlisted folks to help cook, and produced 15 LBS of taco meat. Yes, 15 lbs. Because we were feeding 50 middle schoolers and that's what the recipe said we needed. We had shredded lettuce, cheddar cheese, taco meat and salsa from hell to breakfast in that tiny church kitchen. We dirtied EVERY bowl, container and set of tongs. She was sure we needed 25 taco shells. I insisted we would need only taco chips and soft tortillas. Lucy also bought 2 dozen taco shells. When we ran out of tortillas and chips, she took her 25 taco shells in the back and "found" two extra bags of chips... she broke up the taco shells and put them in two bowls. Lucy is an out of the box thinker like that. When all was said and done, we had one ziploc bag of taco meat left over and my family grew quickly tired of taco salad, nachos and the like.
When I was diagnosed with colon cancer, there were several weeks before we could determine a treatment plan and I just had to sit and wait for test results to come back. We escaped to the Quinalt Lodge at Ocean Shores for the weekend. We walked the beach, played slots in the casino, had massages, ate and drank well and thoroughly escaped the impending doom of what was to come for a day or two. It was just what I needed at the time. After my surgery, when I was recovering and bored out of my mind, she'd come kick off her shoes and sit on my bed and chatter about everything and nothing. She brought me a stuffed dog that one of my sons kept at his side the entire time I was at the hospital, and Dan has in his room to this day. After all was said and done and I was completely cured of the cancer due to the surgery and the fact that it was first stage, she told me her mother had died of colon cancer and she wanted me to have some time free of worry just in case I followed the dismal road as her mother. She waited to tell me this until I was free and clear - she held the thought that I may die like she watched her mother die and kept that from me. That is a gift, to protect others from what you fear most. That is what a surrogate grandma does.
Lucy and I have had many adventures over the years. We attended the Nutcracker and more movies than I can count. Some were memorable - Spectre - the latest James Bond, and some forgettable - the Tree of Life - huh? Some in the theater and some at home. She was concerned that since I couldn't have popcorn since colon surgery, her large buttery bowl would annoy me. I made up for it by having caramel milk duds, something she can't have due to dental work. We found ways to adapt to each other's idiosyncrasies. We are Thelma and Louise, we are Lucy and Ethel, we are Lucy and Mimi and we get each other. If we are together more than 10 minutes, giggles ensue. We get each other. More lunches and dinners and birthdays than I can fathom. She has often joined my family at holiday dinners not as an outsider but as an extension of my family. I now know her birth date and SSN better than my own. She has watched my sons grow up and hears the stories of their trials and tribulations with as much eagerness as if they were her own grandchildren. She reinforces that I was and am a good mom and I trust her judgment.
The Lucy I knew was an out of the box thinker. The Lucy we have now is definitely in the box thinker and sometimes cannot see what all is in the box due to vascular dementia and cognitive issues due to age and blood flow to the brain. Lucy now is vulnerable to a world where she could be taken advantage of and exploited as the elderly often are in our society. I fear what could happen if I abandon Lucy and let the world take care of her. The world won't take the same quality of care for her that I do. The world won't make sure she has her favorite shampoo, her Bose radio set to classical and her TV set to Judge Judy daily at 3pm. These things bring her stability now and make her feel at home wherever she is - hospital, nursing home or assisted living apartment. The world won't make sure her lifetime of things in her condo are dispersed to sources that are of importance to her - to Habitat for Humanity and Salvation Army and such. The world will let her disappear to oblivion, The world won't hold her favorite outfit and jewelry from the past in a drawer in my home and bring it out for her memorial service, but I will. Because I have known the gift of her friendship, her gift of presence and it will be my final gift to her.
The first time I worked with Lucy we were assigned to facilitate a taco bar for a Junior Youth Conference at our church. At that time, she was in her mid 70s and hadn't cooked for a group in some time, and never tacos. Since I was elbow deep in Cub Scouts at the time, we joined forces in the experience in feeding youth and set out with a plan. We made a grocery list, filled the trunk and back seat of her convertible (yes, I see the irony there) with food stuffs, assembled the ingredients, enlisted folks to help cook, and produced 15 LBS of taco meat. Yes, 15 lbs. Because we were feeding 50 middle schoolers and that's what the recipe said we needed. We had shredded lettuce, cheddar cheese, taco meat and salsa from hell to breakfast in that tiny church kitchen. We dirtied EVERY bowl, container and set of tongs. She was sure we needed 25 taco shells. I insisted we would need only taco chips and soft tortillas. Lucy also bought 2 dozen taco shells. When we ran out of tortillas and chips, she took her 25 taco shells in the back and "found" two extra bags of chips... she broke up the taco shells and put them in two bowls. Lucy is an out of the box thinker like that. When all was said and done, we had one ziploc bag of taco meat left over and my family grew quickly tired of taco salad, nachos and the like.
When I was diagnosed with colon cancer, there were several weeks before we could determine a treatment plan and I just had to sit and wait for test results to come back. We escaped to the Quinalt Lodge at Ocean Shores for the weekend. We walked the beach, played slots in the casino, had massages, ate and drank well and thoroughly escaped the impending doom of what was to come for a day or two. It was just what I needed at the time. After my surgery, when I was recovering and bored out of my mind, she'd come kick off her shoes and sit on my bed and chatter about everything and nothing. She brought me a stuffed dog that one of my sons kept at his side the entire time I was at the hospital, and Dan has in his room to this day. After all was said and done and I was completely cured of the cancer due to the surgery and the fact that it was first stage, she told me her mother had died of colon cancer and she wanted me to have some time free of worry just in case I followed the dismal road as her mother. She waited to tell me this until I was free and clear - she held the thought that I may die like she watched her mother die and kept that from me. That is a gift, to protect others from what you fear most. That is what a surrogate grandma does.
Lucy and I have had many adventures over the years. We attended the Nutcracker and more movies than I can count. Some were memorable - Spectre - the latest James Bond, and some forgettable - the Tree of Life - huh? Some in the theater and some at home. She was concerned that since I couldn't have popcorn since colon surgery, her large buttery bowl would annoy me. I made up for it by having caramel milk duds, something she can't have due to dental work. We found ways to adapt to each other's idiosyncrasies. We are Thelma and Louise, we are Lucy and Ethel, we are Lucy and Mimi and we get each other. If we are together more than 10 minutes, giggles ensue. We get each other. More lunches and dinners and birthdays than I can fathom. She has often joined my family at holiday dinners not as an outsider but as an extension of my family. I now know her birth date and SSN better than my own. She has watched my sons grow up and hears the stories of their trials and tribulations with as much eagerness as if they were her own grandchildren. She reinforces that I was and am a good mom and I trust her judgment.
The Lucy I knew was an out of the box thinker. The Lucy we have now is definitely in the box thinker and sometimes cannot see what all is in the box due to vascular dementia and cognitive issues due to age and blood flow to the brain. Lucy now is vulnerable to a world where she could be taken advantage of and exploited as the elderly often are in our society. I fear what could happen if I abandon Lucy and let the world take care of her. The world won't take the same quality of care for her that I do. The world won't make sure she has her favorite shampoo, her Bose radio set to classical and her TV set to Judge Judy daily at 3pm. These things bring her stability now and make her feel at home wherever she is - hospital, nursing home or assisted living apartment. The world won't make sure her lifetime of things in her condo are dispersed to sources that are of importance to her - to Habitat for Humanity and Salvation Army and such. The world will let her disappear to oblivion, The world won't hold her favorite outfit and jewelry from the past in a drawer in my home and bring it out for her memorial service, but I will. Because I have known the gift of her friendship, her gift of presence and it will be my final gift to her.
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