Sunday Morning Musings: Life Savers?

From my morning pages 1/21/17:

Should I/we send Mom some flowers for her birthday? Can she see them? Smell them? Would she even know they’re there? I should do something. She’s still alive although it’s not much of a life. What are life savers? Do we “save” people’s lives at any cost so they can be completely disabled? Zombies? Vegetables?

Life in a “nursing” home is no life. It’s a horrible life where everyone or almost everyone forgets you’re even still alive. You can’t see. You can’t hear. You can’t read, watch TV or listen to music. You swallow the pills that the “nurses” give you. You can’t chew because most of your teeth are gone and your bridge disappeared. Your wedding ring and mother’s ring which you treasured “disappeared.” So did your hearing aids. The things you cared about are gone. Many of the people you loved are gone. But you’re still here because we saved your “life.” Your family. The doctors. The nurses.

Another surgery would get you out of the nursing home. Or it would kill you Either would be an improvement over this non-life you have now. My mother’s still alive. That is, she still breathes. She can get out of bed and sit in the dining room waiting for her next meal so she can use the one sense she still has left. Taste. One of two senses I guess — touch. But she was never a hugger and seems confused when someone attempts it now. So we don’t really.

We sit with her and we become zombies too. Not the flesh-eating kind. Just the vacant non-thinking kind because all we think about is how sad our mother’s life has become. How powerless we are to do anything about it. How much we want to get out of this place. We leave and never want to come back.

But we do. Especially my brother. The one who lives nearby and oversees her care. The one who brings her cookies and water and walks her down the hall holding her hand. The once-upon-a-time wild one who finally came home.

#nursing homes #zombies #lifesavers

My mom


  1. I love this. My mom is also in a nursing home. A memory care center, actually. It’s a sad, depressing place to visit. My hope is that someday there will be euthanasia drop off centers so that people can live with dignity and die that way too.

    • Thanks, D.B. I live in another state and wasn’t consulted when all the decisions were made. It’s all just so sad.

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