THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

It's almost here.  Final preparations are being made. They have painted my room at the house. The put a new floor in. My doctor has to visit me. for the last time. Four weeks from this Sunday is July first. I am counting down. Months have turned into weeks. The weeks will turn into days. The days will turn into hours., The hours will turn into minutes. Then I will be free. I have prayed to be free since October 15, 2014. The day I was admitted. I can't wait. At the same time,, the reality is hitting me.  I am scared. 

I  will be completely on my own.  I will have to learn to manage my life. I will probably be on food stamps. I am not proud of having to rely on the government, for assistance.

I hope community-based Medicaid will allow me to earn my own money. If I earn too much I risk losing my housing. I worry about a lot of things. I guess that's the way life is for an adult. I have to believe that I will make it. If I have a positive attitude everything will be fine.

My needs after I transition are simple.

There will be good communication between my aides and me. 

My aides treat me with respect and dignity

My aides won't condescendingly talk to me.

My aides won't talk on their cell phones while they are assisting me. They won't make me feel that a phone conversation is more important than I am.

My aides won't make me feel degraded by not coming at night when I need them.

My aides will always remember that I a person, not just a body.

I will treat those who care for me with dignity and respect.  Providing care is a difficult job. I will appreciate the care they give me. I will never take them for granted.

I hope my aides will be in a good mood. I recognize that everyone bad days. I know that I do.  However, it gets old really quickly when I hear my aides talk about how much they do not want to be here. I listen to them and feel that I am somehow to blame for their unhappiness.

I will treat my housemates with dignity and respect.  I look forward to getting to know them.

I will miss my friends at NHC. I want to thank the staff who listened to me, who always made time for and never made feel that my concerns were not important.

Three and a half years have come down to four weeks. My story is proof that if you work hard enough dreams really do become a reality.

MAKE HER PROUD

I wanted to write a birthday post because May 2nd marked my mom's 100th birthday. I could not think of anything to say that I had not already said. The day passed. I  spent most of the day in my room thinking about what my mom loved the most about her birthday. Two things. Coffee with Kahlua and free birthday desserts. Her birthday usually lasted until we'd patronized all her favorite restaurants. Unlike me, she did not mind restaurant staff singing Happy Birthday to her. She knew after they sang, she'd be given her dessert.

I started to think about writing a post for Mother's Day. Again, I did not know what to write. This photo was taken in 1976. I was nineteen years old. It depicts how we spent most summer afternoons. Swimming. I remember the hydraulic lift. I remember sitting in the sling. I remember my mom attaching the sling to the lift. Mom would raise the lift and position it over the water., I would dangle there until she got into the pool  "Mom, please hurry up. I could fall in,' I'd tell her. "Oh, you're fine. Give me a minute," she'd tell me. That was my mom.

When this photo was taken I had many hopes for my future. I wanted to be a medical social worker, get married and have a family. I wanted my mom to be proud of me. My life did not work out the way I had planned, but I know she was proud of what I accomplished when she was alive. I hope she is proud of the way I have handled things since her death. I failed a lot, cried a lot and even cursed a lot, but I made it. My mother was a strong person. Whatever strength I. have. I got from her.

Someone told me when I had to leave my house and move to a facility, that  I should say, 'Come on, Mom, it's time for us to go now." I did. I know that she came here with me because I feel her presence all the time.

July. 1st I will finally be moving into my new home. I  know my mom will come with. I hope I will continue making her proud as I begin my new life.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. Happy Mothers Day to all the moms. who read this post/. May your children continue making you proud. 

THE R WORD

I heard a resident call another resident the R-word,  the derogatory term for someone who is mentally challenged, while I was eating breakfast. 

I was shocked and offended. This is 2018. I thought that everyone was aware of how offensive and politically incorrect that word is. I didn't say anything. I left without eating breakfast.

 At lunch, it happened again. A younger resident mocked an elderly resident with Alzheimer's. 

When it happened a third time I'd had enough.

The residents who were being made fun of were unaware they were targets. I felt sorry for them. A cruel disease had stolen their mind. it was not their fault. I had to stick up for them.

I told the residents who were doing the mocking and laughing that we were adults. I told them they were acting like children. The response I received was, "Go eat somewhere else." I felt sorry for the residents at my table too. 

 People have assumed that I am mentally challenged throughout my life.  I know what names and labels feel like. 

The school I attended was for physically disabled children. Everyone who attended had some kind of physical limitation.  Disability or not they were kids. They were cruel. They loved making fun of me.

Everyone living here has a reason for being in this nursing home. Every resident deserves respect and empathy. Some of the residents here act just like the kids in my high school class. 

Why do people get such pleasure out of making fun of others?   Does it give them a sense of power? Do they feel superior to the other person?  Why when it is just as easy to show compassion, empathy, and understanding. to someone?

I guess I will never get an answer.