I have been spending quite a lot of time with the old lady, 97. Because she lives in a HUD building, we knew she couldn't stay in a two bedroom apartment after the old man died. We just moved her into a one bedroom, two floors up. It is very close to the elevator which is major. Thanks to my sister in law, who engineered the move and yesterday hung all her pictures, things have gone smoothly. Right now there are two big concerns, she can't find her gold earrings and she hates the hall light fixture.
Truthfully, I have no idea where the earrings are and hope my daughter can help her find them.
The light fixture is another story altogether. There is something about a new place and a new fixture that is ingrained in her. Back in 1960 when she married my father, her sisters bought a chandelier as a wedding gift. When we moved to Orono, that was the gift she wanted to give us. Even in the first assisted living apartment, her first desire was for a ceiling fan and light for the dining area that had to be bought and installed pronto. Now she sits about fifteen feet away from the light by the door. She can't really see the white globe, but she hates it. She wants a nicer fixture, why can't she have one?
We have told her the fan won't fit there and she accepts it. Yesterday I took her to Home Depot to look at lights. She hated anything that sat flush against the ceiling as hall lights do. So I showed her some that hung below the ceiling and she hated them too. It turns out she wants a multi-light chandelier, that's all. At first I couldn't see it, the mounting is pretty close to the wall, not centered at all. But then I realized if we bought something with a chain, we could put it anywhere with a hook. Finally we were on the same page. We didn't find the style she wanted and I will keep looking.
We went to Chili's where she enjoyed her dinner but ate very little. In the months since my father got sick and died, the old lady has lost some weight. She used to eat half a rack of ribs. Yesterday she had soup and one rib and half a cob of corn. She says she has no appetite and doesn't even look at the weekend box meals. She does a little better in the dining room, but really is not eating much and so the downward spiral goes. She told me she hasn't been able to eat since he died, not hungry and nothing tastes very good. This is a problem for the extreme elderly. If you don't put gas in the car, it can't go very far. She uses the walker but I got her a wheelchair at Home Depot.
We got back to the apartment and she was very happy to sit with all her pretty things around her. The familiar pictures and plates are on the walls and if felt like home. As is normal for her, she said the same thing over and over. But instead of saying how much she hated the globe light, she kept telling me there was no emergency. She said even if it took a month to find the right fixture, there was no emergency, to take my time. It really surprised me and got me thinking.
The desire for a new light is real, but something even more real is the desire to be heard. She couldn't tell me what she wanted before we went to the store, and we kept telling her she couldn't have a fan in the space. But once she knew I understood her and would fulfill that desire, she could relax. She was heard and acknowledged. Being heard is so very important for quality of life.
For years I have been saying many of the things the Occupy Wall Street people are saying. No one in power heard me. Now others have taken up the cry that we need economic justice in this country. I walked 25,000 strong in Miami at the FTAA summit and saw all our protest marginalized and ignored. (Michael Jackson was being arrested.) I who love a good protest and have walked in many a demonstration, I am staying home and watching from the sidelines. Somehow, I can't bear to go down there and not be heard.
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