Assisted Living
Sat., May 29, 11:15 AM
I was talking to my friend Gloria the other day. As you know, I worry about her a great deal, because she lives too far away for me to help and is still a virtual prisoner in that apartment. Some friends that we’ve known “since forever,” are helping her out now, and they want her to go into a nursing home. She wants no part of it.
Now I understand her objections, but I wonder whether, once again, I’m hearing excuses rather than reasons. In my opinion, an assisted living facility would be perfect for her, but evidently there is no such facility in New York or New Jersey that is like what we have in New Haven. (Amazing, isn’t it?)
Assisted living has come to mean a resource for the elderly, but it doesn’t have to be. When I lived in a college dormitory, it occurred to me that there were certain advantages in that kind of life, even if you weren’t going to school. Residents were responsible for cleaning only their own rooms; hired cleaners did the public rooms and bathrooms. Three meals were served every day, so you didn’t have to cook. Not only were there laundry facilities in the basement, but you could also buy linen service, which traded clean sheets and towels for used ones. As a matter of fact, similar “hotels for young ladies” existed in several large cities.
Oh, sure, I soon recognized the drawbacks. It worked only as long as you were willing to fit into the guidelines. For example, dinner was served at 5:30. If you wanted to eat at 7, you could skip dinner (even though you had paid in advance). You could have something cold (no cooking in the rooms), or you could go out. But you had to be back by curfew.
It wasn’t that I wanted to stay out all night, y’know. I just got annoyed at the idea of earning a demerit for coming back one minute after the door was locked. And you could be kicked out if you accumulated ten demerits.Assisted living is just one way to get some help when you really can’t manage by yourself any more. Over the years I’ve come to realize that nothing is absolute; you always end up trading some of your independence or privacy in return for assistance or security. No one of us lives in a vacuum, and sooner or later we need help from somewhere (like Miss Neighbor).
You can stay in your own house and hire someone to maintain the house and grounds as well as to care for you. Then you have to worry about trusting the people you hire. If you move into an apartment, the maintenance is simpler, but you’ve got neighbors only a wall away. You have to think twice about slamming doors or cranking up the stereo in the middle of the night. In a nursing home you have medical care whenever you need it; but you may have to share a room and you will have to adhere to the home’s schedule. And so it goes.
More than thirty years ago, an assisted living facility opened in New Haven, and it’s one of the best in the country. Reasonably priced studio or one-bedroom apartments. (If you only have social security, they can manage a plan for you.) Elevators! On the first floor there are banking and post office facilities as well as a convenience store and a coffee shop. There are meal plans if you want them, but you’ve got your own kitchenette as well. They offer transportation to doctors or shopping, or to cultural events.
I’ve investigated this facility more than once. My mother was happier with aides in her own condo. So was one of my aunts. They could afford that. I looked into it again when Gloria first began having problems. No soap. And I’ve looked into it more recently, in case I need such a place myself.
We’ve had the experience of having Husband in a nursing home, and it wasn’t the best. He was there to recover from a broken hip replacement, and I have to believe that the place was chosen because it had good physical therapy. But it was understaffed – U.D. and I both did a lot of his personal care – and it was a long drive for me. (I wouldn’t even attempt it now because I would have to drive after dark.) Furthermore, as I found out later, the nurses were so overworked that they never even noticed that Husband was throwing his pills under the bed instead of swallowing them.
Why haven’t I taken steps to move us in there? Well, for one thing, the Cheesebox – inadequate though it may be – is ours, bought and paid for. It may be cramped, but there’s still more space than in an apartment. As long as I’m still driving, I want the garage for my car. I’d hate to give up some of the things I have – saved my money to buy what I want – my big freezer, my glass-topped stove, my roomy kitchen. And, don’t forget, I’m still working, albeit just a few hours a week. It’s less than three miles round trip to the Bosslawyer.
Husband will thrive best if he stays in his own home. Right now, he has me and U.D. to care for him. When he gets beyond the point where I can do it, we will switch to in-home care. This is his assisted living. He doesn’t like it much, because I annoy him. He will like it less when some stranger is helping him to bathe.
And, y’know, I don’t know whether Husband and I can share one bedroom any more. I’m a day person; he’s up all night. He forgets that he’s not the only one using the bathroom. He messes up the kitchen, so that I have to clean again in the morning. D’you suppose they’d let a married couple rent two studios?
