THRIVING IN PLACE LESSONS LEARNED

“Life gets more exciting with each passing day” she said sarcastically.  So many lines like that one come to my mind from song lyrics, though the song subject from which they come has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with what I’m writing about here.

So many lessons I’m learning in this adventure of “living and thriving in place.”  Most recently I was simply minding my own business preparing to perch myself on the throne in my bathroom when all the lights went out.  They didn’t seem to be coming back on any time soon so having completed my business I arose in the deep dark blackness of night to carefully exit the room, slowly walking down the hallway to my bedroom, then feeling my way over to my bed where I keep a light within easy reach for just such emergencies. 

Having managed to not trip or fall, I then comfortably lit my way back to the living room.  I learned from this excursion I need to strategically place some little flashlights around the house to augment what I thought were sufficient placements.  Existing flashlights for my bedroom,  one handily placed in my living room and kitchen (where I once experienced a similar sudden light loss) are insufficient.  

Definitely, I want a flashlight of some sort in each of my other rooms, including my bathrooms.  So, I’m acquiring several of those inexpensive little LED lights to use for just that purpose.  In addition to always keeping my cell phone in my pocket wherever I go around the house, should I now carry one of those little flashlights, too?  Lights can unpredictably go out at any time.   During the worst of our fire season there can be more such incidents.  Though this is an infrequent event, when the lights go out it can be dangerous, especially if walking has become a bit less secure than it once was. 

Life has continued to be a bit complex with issues surrounding this Covid-19 virus only complicating matters.   A specialist I was to see for a second visit suddenly retired.  Efforts to obtain information or even reach a person with whom to talk, since my repeated messages left, go unanswered, have elicited no response for a couple weeks.  This matter is yet to be resolved.

Recognizing I can benefit from some assistance at home, even if just temporary, I finally concluded after considering the virus spreading situation, to allow a person known to me to begin regular visits.   After my helper’s first visit she phoned to advise recent L.A. County Health Department news reports of increasing virus infections leading to recommendations residents ratchet back their outside activities and to stay at home had given her concern.  She had decided to stay home, so I was back at square one in obtaining the assistance I sought.   

There has been an increase in the number of infected people in our city, two people have died.   Our closest local area hospital is reported to be at 80% capacity with beds for Covid-19 patients but say they are well positioned to accommodate more, if need be, and to safely accept the general public with ordinary needs. 

The only other person to spend time in my house since February was an AC/Furnace person to provide general service preparatory for our summer heat.  I had my unit go down once during a heat wave and had to wait several days before service could be provided.  Weather extremes don’t agree with me as well as they once did when I was younger, so I judged this visit a welcomed risk since he was masked and the area indoors he needed to see was limited.   

There are more incidental issues with which I am dealing, all of which are time consuming, none the least of which is needing to complete my income tax forms, which infringe on time I might otherwise focus on blog visits, so please know I’ve not forgotten readers here.

Are those of you living and thriving in place learning any adaptation lessons, or have you encountered any unique complications aggravating your life because of this virus?

ADAPTATION--SURVIVAL--MOURNING

Reflecting on my life I think I lived quite a remarkable length of time – traveled many miles.   I hadn’t realized my dying would be noteworthy, but am even more surprised overhearing just how much I’m missed.    I have to tell you, I don’t mind the eternal rest I’m experiencing.    Life hasn’t been easy as I reflect on my past.

I recall my pride at being chosen in my youthful prime over many others by a very discerning older couple to take up residence in their suburban ranch style home.   I’d only resided there a little over a year when they were replaced by a much younger newly married couple.   We became comfortable companions so after only a couple years or so, I was chosen to join them in an unexpected odyssey.   

This travel required my being removed from the only real home I’d known.   Initially, I was relegated with a number of others from our home to a small dark windowless area where we were all pressed up against one another for a several months period of uncertainty as to our future.  

Just as I was giving up hope of seeing daylight again, the others and I were all suddenly loaded onto a large vehicle of some sort for a several hour ride to another location.  We were removed and I was again in an environment where I could function as I was intended.  

This was an exciting time as I became aware a new little being – cooing, gurgling, making crying sounds, loud and noisy at times – had taken up permanent residence in our household.    

But not quite a year later I was again subjected to having my interior being emptied, then I was loaded into a huge vehicle, only this time the ride I took was weeks long-g-g.  Other than my first Midwest Great Lakes residence, the southwestern state where I ended up this time was probably the most ideal for me once my interior was properly cleaned and refreshed.   

My memories remind me of  the special pleasure several years later when I once again heard the ooing, ah-h-h-ing, grunting, babbling and more noisy sounds indicating another little one was joining our home.  Meanwhile, I had enjoyed the first little being’s hands occasionally pressed against me, steadying for walking about, or prying fingers trying to figure out how to access my interior, gradually become more independent.   Then there was the birthday party with young neighbor friends and that fancy decorated chocolate lion cake made from scratch.

There was lots of activity and I really felt I was an important part of life there.     I faced a west window so regularly witnessed the fading day’s light, shades of sunset reds sweeping across the sky before emerging sparkling stars appeared.  

I recall one time of enormous vibrating cacophony, seeing shells clinging to tree trunks, the day after the living noisy cicada departed.  Their single isolated sound had been steady, never-ending, created as pictured here, but multiplied by thousands -- deafening.

I also saw power-stopping lightning, heard sharp ear-splitting thunder and witnessed horrendous rainy downpours.    One anxiety-filled occasion occurred when a hundred year flood was triggered by a downpour which desert sandy grounds could not absorb fast enough, allowing water to rise to a level seeping under doors into the house interior.  Fortunately, the water was prevented from creeping into my area, mechanism and motor. 

There was one occasion I was glad to be protected indoors when in the distance I could see an awesome dark cloud filling the sky -- rolling closer and closer, becoming blacker and blacker, finally encompassing the whole house as the cloud passed overhead.  Outdoors, a few dirty grey moisture drops splattered over everything. Inside, a thin. light, covering-everything residue was the gift blown in by this dust storm. 

More pleasant times allowed me to feel my whole being to be of use and value.  This occurred when various baking tins were placed on the top of my exterior, just below a cabinet – a perfect warm location, out of drafts, for sour dough, whole wheat and other yeasty rolls/bread dough to rise before their aroma permeated the air in baking.   

Those years lasted only half-a-decade.   Another move for this family was in the offing.  I didn’t know I almost was left behind on that move, so when I was unloaded from what has ultimately proved to be my last large vehicle ride, to be placed outside, in a garage, I was totally unprepared this less than ideal location would become permanently mine.

. 

Over forty years have passed.   I long ago came to the realization that my value to the family was to be exactly where I was -- in the garage.  Summers were hot – sometimes over a hundred degrees, but at least I was protected from the sun’s direct rays.   Winters only occasionally would be below freezing temperatures, but I was protected from those cold effects, too. 

 

Once I reconciled myself to make the most of my situation, I began to feel quite proud during those years.  On two different occasions when the units inside the home, where I previously always had been, ceased working, I came to the rescue.    In those emergencies I was able to take into my interior all their contents – frozen foods did not thaw, milk did not sour, food did not spoil.   Both of those inside units had been purchased new, had worn out, one replacing the other, while I – much older – who had been moved, drug about, coast to coast -- kept doing my job, never once even requiring service or repair.   

Finally, early in 2017, I just became exhausted.   I’ve been working 24/7 well over half a century -- with no repairs or even any service provided.   I’ve just – finally – stopped working.   Maybe my mechanism could be given first aid of some sort, tuned up, repaired in some way – maybe not.   But, I just want to be allowed to permanently rest now.  My exterior appearance, sometimes neglected due to other priorities -- but not because of the families lack of caring -- decidedly reflects the wear of years.  I know I'll be taken from here, but I'm ready.   Wherever I’m taken, I hope that some part of me, if not all, can be recycled. 

RIP Hotpoint Refrigerator 1962-2017                                     

DIGITAL WORLD ADAPTATION

Recovery, Hearing Loss, Frustration, 
Emotionality, SNFs, Publishing

Adapting to digital technology has been and continues to be a fascinating and challenging undertaking for many people who once were on technologies cutting edge in the years before personal computers.

I've been delighted that a family member whose professional life included 1950's then state-of-the-art electronics technical activities has been able to resume some computer use.  He had been involved many years ago in the space program precursor to NASA associated with unmanned satellite tracking stations.  Many years later, following retirement, he had begun developing his computer skills once Internet access connections became available.

His beginning efforts to write his WWII recollections came to a halt when he experienced a life-threatening brain aneurysm from which he was not expected to recover -- but he did!  A  regimen of various therapies eventually ended and he returned home, but various residual effects greatly curtailed his activities.  Eventually he managed to attempt playing the computer's solitaire card game.  In his eighties, visual complications unrelated to his previous brain event, hampered his technical skill development.

Eventually, cataract surgery partially corrected some visual deficits allowing limited increased computer use with repeated trials.   A year or so ago I had urged consideration be given to his using Skype with assistance, but received no acknowledgement my suggestion had received interest from anyone.  I was delighted earlier this year to receive a Skype call from this family member.  I've had a few subsequent ones, including last night, from this family member who has actually been able to retain and sequence the steps to make the call, adjust the picture and make other minor corrections.

We sometimes use the Skype short typed messages.  Also, initially he was a bit anxious with our audio since he often required repeats due to his hearing loss which is unaided and not responsive to amplification.   Occasional repeated calls to me, plus regular frequent calls with his adult children scattered about the country have resulted in his increased confidence and significant lessening of any stress associated with needing to ask for a repeat.  By the same token, I make every effort to communicate in ways best for him.

Not only is this exciting to me on a personal level, but professionally it significantly demonstrates that the human brain can continue to recover from insults of many types, such as this aneurysm or a stroke, at any age with dedicated stimulation.  I hasten to add there can be many variables that may interfere or prevent some individuals from achieving gains, so we shouldn't be judgmental toward anyone whose skills remain static.

Therapeutic intervention after an event does provide instruction for independent practice once therapy concludes.  Consultation with a therapist long after the initial therapy can sometimes be appropriate, but it may  be challenging to obtain financial coverage.   Generally, Medicare and insurers require there must be some change in function that can be documented.  Consult your physician.

My husband had accepted digital technology when our adult children gifted him with a new clock radio, then a compact disc player which renewed his interest in listening to music, generally jazz. When video tape recorders (VCR) became prominent he was less than enthusiastic when I gave him one, so I ultimately figured out how to install the connections to our older TV.

With the installation completed and video tape movies I played a few times, he gradually became interested to the degree he not only used the VCR himself, but acquired knowledge of operational fine points I hadn't learned. Privately amusing to me, was that he would then become impatient if I failed to use the VCR remote special features as efficiently as he had become. We went through this same process when I gave him  a DVD player another year.

When our son and wife presented us with one of their desktop personal computers after buying a new laptop, we were quite confident that it was only a matter of time before our man would become adept and enthusiastic using this latest digital technology. Maybe this would help distract him from the constant wearing pain he was experiencing that no longer responded to epidural treatments as he tried also to avoid excessive pain medications and sleeping pills.  Unfortunately, he wasn't a candidate for surgery.

At the local office supply store, after choosing a small compact desk, my son and I carefully selected a desk chair that we thought would be most comfortable sitting for my husband, since he was experiencing increasing back pain and other medical problems. When we brought the firm but cushy chair home he did try sitting at the computer, but disappointingly, given our efforts, he was unable to comfortably sit for long. Additionally, he experienced visual difficulty focusing between the keyboard and the screen with his bifocal eyeglasses. I'm sure his constant wearing pain short-circuited his concentration and patience for acquiring new skills, too.

During those early weeks of my computer use, my own limited internet surfing had revealed specific sports and jazz music sites that I thought would garner his interest. I also realized, my goal now had to be not only learning to use the computer myself, so I could help get him started, but that he would need one of those laptops coming onto the market. Wireless capability for home use was beginning to be touted as a possibility, so I concluded this was a system combination we needed.

My plan was that my husband could use a laptop in the relative comfort of his recliner. Meanwhile, to aid in my overcoming computer operation complications our son consulted remotely with me as he was able from his Midwest home, as did my daughter from the East Coast, between the hours of my part time work and other activities here on the West Coast. Also, I benefited from consultations with bloggers who generously shared their knowledge, time, encouragement and emotional support.

For numerous years I had become personally aware of how the wear and tear of constant pain, whether mild or strong, on a person's psyche can effect their attitude toward life and influence their behavior toward others, especially loved ones. Even the individual's thinking can be altered, making their concentration a tiring effort. Frustration, anger toward themselves could manifest itself by being directed toward their most trusted other.   

I thought once a select few Internet sites were set up and easily accessible they might serve to draw my husband's attention to enjoyable features outside the pressing discomfort, thus distracting his focus from himself. But before wireless readily became available, or I had a laptop, he went to bed one night and didn't awaken in the morning as I've shared here before in "Time To Talk."

I think of the how the smart phones and tablets available today are even more portable.  These devices provide Internet access benefiting individuals of all ages and most capabilities.  Anyone interested in developing computer operating skills can likely obtain assistance from a variety of sources.  I continue to be amazed at the rapid evolution of new products that have emerged in these six years, leaving me to wonder what's next?

The computer tablet has already become an effective teaching tool attracting some autistic children to express themselves, even stimulating their speech.   Elders have easily learned to use a tablet's touch screen as their first computer. I may even be able to use a tablet with some of the individuals for whom I provide speech, language and cognitive services.

I'm familiar with a retirement community that recently installed wireless service throughout the campus, including in their skilled nursing health center (SNF.)    People sometimes do not realize some SNFs may have very mentally competent residents, some of whom may be able to go about on motorized scooters and leave the facility on outings with friends and family.  Residents and people from the community come to the SNF for rehabilitation following some decline in function, generally due to medical changes ranging from dehydration to recovery from surgery and strokes to name a few issues.  Some people will recover enough to return to their previous residences or other living environments. Some individuals requiring more nursing care may remain permanently.

I've encountered a few SNF residents using their own personal computers.  I recall a former Chicago radio broadcaster who actively used her computer to maintain contact with her network television newsman son in his travels.   Well into her nineties with mental faculties intact she once expressed concern about whether or not at her age she should still be reading so many newspapers, magazines and other publications about current local and world events.  The answer was, of course, "yes!" since she derived so much pleasure from an activity that was such an important part of her life.

Then there was another SNF resident I often noticed up in a chair typing at her computer.   She was engaged in writing a book she self-published that I wrote about several years ago:"Salute To Janis David Cooley."


I continue to anticipate much promise for increased activities, pleasure and enjoyment for a select number of  skilled nursing facility residents, whether short term or permanent, with wireless connections, tablet computers and, for some, perhaps even a smart phone.  I'd best be purchasing these latest digital items myself so I can be prepared, but perhaps there will be some new digital device replacing those before my purchase.  Stay tuned.

MOTHERS AND CHILDREN ADAPT

[These following recollections of mine are dedicated to all those mothers and children who did not survive the Holocaust, though my memories are unrelated to the horrific events of those years.   I am prompted to offer this symbolic commemoration since in recent months I've been listening to a child survivor of those harrowing times relate her recently deceased mother's emotionally moving words recounting the harrowing experiences of their survival.]


MOTHERS AND CHILDREN ADAPT

My long time Southern California best friends are experiencing parent care giving challenges similar to those I had years ago, as so many Boomers face today --  needing to assist older loved ones to live independently.    Almost ten years younger than I -- both recently retired, their children now adults with families of their own -- my friends are positioned differently than I was thirty years ago to provide parents needed help.

I was fortunate that once my Mother relocated from the Midwest she lived only a mile or less from my home, whereas my friends must drive from one community southeast of Los Angles, across that megalopolis to their parent’s northern Valley area home.   They also, have brothers and sisters living in much closer proximity to their parents, but my friend, being the first born daughter, and her husband provide much of the care. 

My much older only sibling was across the Pacific Ocean and unable to participate with my mother’s daily assistance.   No other family resided in California – in fact, lived a many-States distance away.   I won’t go into other specifics as they are incidental to the day-to-day picture.  

What’s important is, that no matter what anyone’s personal situation may be, at any time we can be unexpectedly thrust into a care giving circumstance.    Our attitude, that of surrounding family members and friends, and that of the loved one or patient themselves has a significant impact on how well we navigate the after effects of such an event, while – most importantly – preserving our own health. 

My children were young, my employed husband was coping with a difficult situation himself, coupled with the beginnings of his health decline -- all contributing to marital stresses.   I was in University training for my current profession, which added to life’s complications when my Mother had a sudden life-altering event.   She never fully recovered from this variously called stroke, brain attack, cerebral vascular accident (CVA.)  

Fortunately, her mental status remained intact.  The only residual effects were balance mechanism deficits and decreased walking ability.  Her brain could no longer perceive where her body was in space – proprioception problems.     So she had to always use a walker – not a four or even two wheeler, because the wheels would move too fast. 

Critically important was the requirement that my mother NEVER lean too far backward, especially when standing, because her brain would not send body position correcting messages to prevent her falling.  She certainly didn’t need any broken bones, or even a hip fracture, much less further brain injury if her head struck some piece of furniture, the floor or ground.   

Together Mother and I determined the choice was hers to continue living independently though falling could be a risk.    If she had exhibited memory, judgment, impulsiveness, or a number of other cognitive and physical problems her choice might not have been appropriate and I would not have hesitated to say so.   She never fell.

Fortunately, our relationship was of such mutual respect tempered by love that decision-making occurred with my mother always included and participating in the process.  Her cooperation for whatever was best never presented a problem.  I think this was partly because we were always honest, open and truthful with each other, even when the message might not always be what either of us wanted to say or hear.

She had been very active though legally blind for several decades with her vision gradually deteriorating even further through the following years.  She had lived independently many years after she was alone, choosing to continue doing so after she moved across country to be nearer to me.
 
Living in a small Midwest town when she was widowed  she had been  able to walk everywhere she needed for groceries, the post office, church, downtown for banking and shopping, to the courthouse lawn for weekend afternoon concerts and events.  Even the train depot and long distance bus station were close by. 

Her social life kept her busy joining friends for occasional countryside drives which might include roadside market stops for farm fresh eggs, fruits and vegetables.   Much younger friends with their children  sometimes stopped by to visit her simply because all ages enjoyed her company and the positive outlook  she had maintained despite some hardships she had known during her lifetime.

My mother enjoyed volunteering at the local hospital’s ladies sewing group, creating lap quilts for nursing home residents.   Fund-raising rummage sales to help the needy were among the activities in which she aided her church women’s group.

For a number of years at home she managed to occasionally use her treadle sewing machine for straight line stitching, as with repairing a seam, or joining two pieces of material together.  She couldn't use an electric machine because the sewing was much too rapid, possibly causing injury since she often said her fingers were her eyes.
 
This was quite a sewing adaptation from a woman trained to be a teacher who once could observe a dress in a window display, go home, reproduce the pattern and make that same dress for herself.   Or, the much in demand lady to whom word-of-mouth brought women asking her to fit ill-fitting dresses to their particular body form. 

She was comfortable with solitude, quite able to entertain herself.   Some years earlier I had learned of Talking Books before the days when audio books with playback devices were commercially available to the public.   She was delighted to receive free books and magazines on record (later tapes) to listen to at her leisure.  She discovered she didn’t dare lie down or simply sit in a chair while she was listening to a story or she would fall asleep only to awaken several missed chapters later.

Concluding she needed some activity to occupy her hands, she successfully experimented with creating an original type of rug hooking to do while listening to the books.   Mother subsequently hooked unique one-of-a-kind colorful rugs using select fabrics based on geometric patterns she recalled from the years when she had been able to quilt.  

Mother’s  creations multiplied in number, eventually became in demand, but were first sold in a local furniture store.   Subsequent years I placed them in Scottsdale, Arizona artist crafts stores, a local California antique store when we moved here.  We were told each year a Chicagoan returned here to purchase her hooked rugs.  Another family member released a few rugs that sold on Hawaii’s Big Island.   Her rugs have been described as examples of primitive art.   

Family contact was maintained during the years with occasional visits and phone calls on special occasions.   Mother's sisters and a cousin circulated  round robin letters she could sometimes read using magnification if large black print on white, but increasingly letters had to be read to her.  

Her hearing loss (presbycusis - aging hearing loss) was, fortunately, mostly negligible.    So, when personal tape recorders with cassettes became accessible technology, my brother supplied each of us with one.   We exchanged audio tape letters after she learned equipment operational skills. 

The years before televisions had remote controls I was able to locate a then soon-to-be out-dated push button television set (I still have it,) since a channel dial presented her visual difficulties.   Again her fingers were her eyes, she said, so could feel the buttons for the channel she desired once she learned the broadcast station  sequence.

Mother enjoyed listening to a few television programs, often on public television (PBS,) music, comedy (if not too visual) and variety shows, news,  game shows like Jeopardy, other programs that offered lots of dialogue and didn't depend too much on visual action to convey crucial aspects of a plot.    Radio programming continued to be a favored medium, especially bedside if she couldn't sleep.  

The older I become, the more frequently I seem to recall my mother’s words, our experiences together.  I often wish I could talk with her now,  having gained a perspective only years lived can provide.