Things To Come

It's getting harder and harder to read the news without becoming depressed.  While the general population is quickly aging before our collective eyes – mainly due to improved medical care and health habits – the punitive aspect of growing old without any safety net is growing exponentially.  Just this week, the San Francisco Chronicle reported that because of budgetary considerations decided on and passed by the California legislature back in 2011, organizations that accept Medi-Cal disbursements from the government are going to be hit with millions of dollars in payments retroactive to past years.  As an example, the Jewish Home of San Francisco, a venerable institution that supplies care to the aged, is, because it relies on Medi-Cal payments to stay afloat, going to be hit with an 11 million dollar payment for 2011 alone, simply because it accepts Medi-Cal disbursements!  These Medi-Cal payments are the only lifeline for many elderly people without means.  This is insane, and says much that is negative about our society, one in which rich people come first and foremost...

I'm not rich (or even close), and I have to admit that I'm greatly worried about my old age.  We Americans have always prided ourselves as living in the greatest country in the world, but I'm afraid that's just not the case, my friends.  We are shooting ourselves in the foot, unable or unwilling to recognize that one of those famous "inalienable rights" ought to provide senior citizens with respectable old-age care.  Various European countries have figured this out, but apparently we can't.  In America's profit-is-all-that-counts system, the powers that be (and we are to blame for electing them) just figure, "What the hell – let's just let all those poor, old people drop dead!  It's so much easier that way!"

If you're old, and without money, make no mistake: you are in serious trouble.  Count me as one of them...

Death is a Natural Part of Life (and it's okay to talk about it)

Paula Span, who writes for the New York Times blog, The New Old Age, published a blog post the other day about groups, called Death Cafes, springing up all over the country that meet, not for end-of-life planning or grief support, but rather to discuss death philosophically:Why do we fear it?  What do we think it's like?  And maybe most importantly, how does our view of death inform the way we go about living our lives?

I read some years ago about the various café mortel (mortal cafe) that were being started in France and Switzerland for people to discuss their philosophies about death, and these groups in the U.S. are offshoots of that same basic idea.  Ms. Span's blog post is, I think, important reading for just about anybody, if for no other reason than that the subject of death, much like eldercare, is so completely taboo and riddled with superstition.  People often feel that talking about death invites it closer, just like my parents, who thought that if they even made out a will they'd keel over and die right on the spot.  I think these are necessary forums – necessary because death, like taxes, is inevitable.   It seems to me that when we confront the subjects that we're most afraid of, they take on less of a sinister overtone.  People have often said to me that, since death is inevitable, why talk about it?  I respond by saying that since it's inevitable, why not demystify it and explore our thoughts and feeling about it?

For me, this brings up what I consider to be the bigger issue: quality-of-life.  In this blogger's view, our society, because of equal parts guilt and liability, often extends people's lives far beyond any reasonable bounds.  Maybe groups like the Death Cafe will allow people to talk about death in a way that isn't superstitious, and allow us to look at death as a natural cessation of life function, particularly in cases where the lack of a real quality-of-life makes life not...well...life anymore.

Read Ms. Span's piece at: http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/16/death-be-not-decaffeinated-over-cup-groups-face-taboo/  and follow this and other resources at www.jamielegon.com/resources

parenting your parents and kids at the same time: the eldercare sandwich

My father was almost ninety-one when my mother died. I was about fifty at the time, and my son was a little over two years old. My father, who had been a demanding and combative person his entire life, was now suddenly without the checks and balances provided by my mother's calming presence. He was an angry bull unleashed in a china shop – everybody was either a son-of-a-bitch or a no-good dirty bastard.  My mother, the buffer zone, was gone, I lived over 700 miles away, and my only brother lived in France.  Can you hear the sounds of crashing crystal?...

My father was almost deaf, so phone calls were always an ordeal.  Sometimes things were crazy and sometimes things were calm, but either way phone calls with my father were always loud, and sometimes anxiety-producing. Growing up in our small house, my son was an unfortunate witness to almost all of it. He heard it in the house, and saw it when we went to visit my father.  Exposing children to angry relatives like my father  probably constitutes some kind of child abuse, and though some of the crazy conversations and angry moments make for good comedy in the re-telling, they weren't funny at the time...

I was taking care of two people who were on opposite ends of the spectrum, each one more than forty years in age from me.  I was in a world between the very, very old and the very, very young, where my little son often exhibited great maturity while my aged father frequently acted like a baby...

Parenting the very young and the very old at the same time is interesting: while both need constant attention, the young child is (mainly) easily managed while the aging parent can often be very resistant. The adult child of the aging parent who still has at-home children often has life and death issues entering into their daily life.  Accidents, sickness, and encroaching infirmity are par for the course when caring for the aged parent, and in my house my son was far too aware of what was happening with my father and his regular emergencies. Elderly parents usually require increasing amounts of help, and even the youngest children can sense, if not plainly see, the difficulties that are involved.  Sometimes I think that my son, in some ways, grew up too fast...

I was an Oreo cookie in real life...

Visit my website at http://www.jamielegon.com to see an excerpt from my book FEET FIRST-Riding the Elder Care Rollercoaster with My Father, engage in my conversation on aging, or to contact me directly...

my two cents on eldercare

Here’s my two-cent, eldercare rant:

Assisted or skilled care giving isn't just a job – it's also a calling.  Caring for those who can no longer care for themselves is, by its very nature, a sensitive issue.  You're dealing with increasingly vulnerable seniors whose self-esteem and self-respect are challenged every single day by the fact that they can no longer do for themselves what they were formerly accustomed to doing throughout their lives...

Unfortunately, far too much of the actual caregiving is done by often disinterested aides and assistants who are underpaid, under-trained, and who are frequently just passing through on their way somewhere else – transient workers of whom there are few who see healthcare as a desirable career path.  Many aides and assistants seem to think that it's better to have any job, however distasteful it might be, rather than none at all.  But it's not just about changing clothes, cleaning their rooms, or getting an aged person in the shower – it's about the tact, thoughtfulness, and sensitivity that one employs when doing it...

The rigorous oversight needed to control the private caregivers who cut too many corners is virtually nonexistent. Care for the aged needs to be a nonprofit, privately run program that is part of a completely revamped, not-for-profit, health care system. The whole health care industry needs to be run in the same way successful nonprofit foundations are run—controlled costs, clear rules, and strict regulations governing conduct and operations.

High-level assisted or skilled care should be available to everyone, not just the wealthy...