I recently spent time visiting with family in an assisted living home. Many of the residents have memory issues, and some are inclined to wander off without notice and without knowing where they are or how to get back. There are good reasons for the cumbersome electronic bracelet that triggers an alarm when it goes through an outside door.
This morning as I left the house, a silver-haired woman in a small SUV drove erratically up the middle of my street looking perplexed. I asked if I could help, she told me where she was headed, and I guided her back down the hill to her destination. When she thanked me, her concern was evident, "I have been here many times, this has never happened to me before."
Last night, I watched a documentary that chronicled the progress of early-onset Alzheimer's disease and its effect on a family of caregivers.
These three experiences echo a fear that chills me to the bone: losing the ability to function freely in the world. It sneaks up gradually. Then, one day, a doctor decides that I can no longer make decisions in my own best interest. I can no longer weigh the risks and choose adventure anyway. Others decide what is needed to keep me safe.
The winter that I worked in New Hampshire, I was surrounded by license plates with the state motto, "Live Free or Die." Those words have been echoing in my mind as I observe the increasing prevalence of dementia among the parents of my fellow Boomers. One after another of us goes through the steps: noticing the signs, denying them, slowly coming to terms with a downward trend. Loved ones struggle as they disagree about what's best and needed next for their elders.
New Hampshire was no doubt thinking of political freedom when it adopted the motto in 1945. According to Wikipedia, the phrase has roots in the French Revolution. We in the United States are quick to celebrate our independence from tyranny. Give me liberty or give me death.
What does the national, cultural, and human value of freedom mean in the context of assisted living? Is it any surprise that the passion for life seems to fade as horizons narrow? Is there any way to look at the dilemma of safety vs freedom from a more creative angle? I am coming up short.
How do you deal with mental changes in older family and friends? How do you handle the prospect of similar changes in yourself and your peers?
