[img]958|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — My S.O.’s mother moved from her house to an independent living facility this summer. It was quite a process. “Mom” had lived in her house for something like 50 years. Her three kids grew up in that house, and she lived there with her husband after they all grew up and moved out. Her husband was moved to a facility for Alzheimer’s patients five years ago. At 83, Mom puttered around, going out with friends who could drive her to lunch, shopping, and to visit her husband, who didn’t quite know who she was anymore.
Things seemed to be okay until one day she fell and had to be taken to the ER. Once there, the doctors found all sorts of issues with her health. So they admitted her. After a few days, she was transferred to a rehab facility. Outside her door, there was a sign indicating she was a fall risk.
After much discussion among Mom’s children, it was decided that it would be in her best interests to transfer her from the rehab place into an independent living apartment instead of back to her house. It took a little while for Mom to process this news. There were many visits, a lot of talks, and ample time for Mom to get used to the idea. Process it, she did, however, and soon she was making lists of things she wanted from her house.
Imagine, Bingo All the Time
When we went to visit the apartment building she would likely be moving into, we ran into a woman she knew. We were in the elevator, and a tiny woman joined us. Mom said, “Hi, Marjorie!” She leaned over and said to us, “We went to high school together.” Marjorie greeted us and then asked Mom, “Are you going to the reunion?” Mom leaned over again and explained, “It’s our 65th high school reunion.” She wasn’t sure if she’d be going. We toured the place and talked to
a few people. Everyone raved about the food. Later that day, the decision was made; Mom would be moving in. She’d have her meals made for her, her apartment would be cleaned for her, and she could go downstairs to movie night every Friday. A couple of weeks later, we moved her furniture from her house to her new place. It looked homey right away.
Mom’s been at her new place for a month. She loves it. She sits at a different table at every meal so she can get to know all the residents. She’s happy she doesn’t have to take care of that big house by herself any more, and she really likes the people she’s with. Not sure if she’s going to that reunion or not.
This experience has taught me that I don’t want to wait till I’m 83 and have a fall to move to an independent living facility. I want to do it when I’m 65. I’ll get three squares a day, a library right downstairs, go on outings to the mall in a special bus, and I’ll get to put cute little signs on my door, just like in college! Some people think that getting old isn’t that great. Me? I can’t wait to play Bingo on a regular basis.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
