At the Old Folks Home
It’s been a year now since my husband, John, and I moved into Deerfield, a Life Care retirement community, and we are delighted to be here. I am thinking of all those friends who are astonished we would do this. One said, I’d feel like I was being “fitted for my coffin” to apply there. Another said, “I couldn’t stand being around all those old people. I need young neighbors.” Another groaned, “It’s so expensive.” Yet another said, “I’m just not ready for a nursing home.”
All right, one by one, let’s look at those objections, working back from the last comment. “I’m just not ready for a nursing home.” Deerfield is not a “nursing home.” There are such places for people who are truly helpless in their old age, and Deerfield has a skilled care unit for those who do need nurses round-the-clock. Most of the people here, though, remain very independent, as John and I do. We come and go as we please, as much as we ever did; in fact, we still have a car and use it. Meanwhile, I am glad we seldom drive in it at night, and at Deerfield we have fine alternate options for transportation: by day we use our golf cart around campus, and that is fun and uses no gasoline; at night we can take the Deerfield bus to Symphony concerts, no longer worrying about parking or driving home late at night. Meanwhile, although we do not have the confinement of being under a nurse’s care, we do have 24 hour security and nurse call if we have an emergency. That is a comfort just to know we could call for help if we need it. Once, after I had been in the hospital, the Deerfield Independent Living nurse came by, unbidden, to check on me and to remind me to keep my call-button pendant nearby when John went out for any reason. That was wise advice.
Second comment: “It’s so expensive.” Yes, there is cost involved, and we need to keep considering how to adjust to that, especially as costs increase year by year. Of course costs outside Deerfield increase, too, so this is not the only place. Furthermore, there are savings as a result of being here. For one, big thing, we no longer pay property taxes. We also do not have separate bills for heat, electricity, gas, water, or trash collection. We also do not pay separate bills for landscaping, household repairs, or even housekeeping. Better yet, we no longer have to wait for repairmen to come when they can get around to us. We just call in our requests and go about our business because very trustworthy repairmen and housekeepers have keys to our dwelling, come to do what needs doing, and lock up afterwards, leaving a note to say they’ve been there. While they work, we can be away doing anything, including swimming in the beautiful pools, exercising in the big gym, painting in the studio, reading in the library, you name it-- and those are all just part of living here: no country club membership fees, even for water aerobics classes or the monthly dance parties.
Moreover, as grocery prices increase, we need less at the grocery store now because food is included in our living here, one meal a day, however we wish to get it. We can go for noonday dinner 12-2 pm, or evening dinner 5-7 pm, or take home a basket with food during any of those hours. When one of us is not feeling well, the basket is a help, but it can be at other times, too. Once I came with a basket on a Sunday and, seeing me tote it, friends asked if John was not well. He was fine; he just wanted to watch every minute of a football game. Sometimes, too, I bring some parts of a meal home and rearrange them as we prefer, perhaps with different vegetables, or using salad as a main course and saving fruit for breakfast the next day. Whether we eat at the dining room or at home, we always like the fresh salad bar and fresh fruit that are everyday options. Now, unlike friends who are relieved to give up cooking, I had wondered if I might feel hemmed in by “institutional food.” That has not been a problem because of the flexibility we have; sometimes it is nice to go to the dining room, usually at midday for us, and sometimes to bring things home. What is best is that we can decide at the last moment what we want to do.
Now how about the complaint, “I couldn’t stand being around all those old people. I need young neighbors.” Well, first off, there are some delightful “old people” here, young in spirit, really good neighbors, and, anyway, I have had old-people friends all my life. I appreciate their perspective. Meanwhile, we do see young people all the time, sometimes visitors here, surely staff, and since we go to church and church midweek events, such as choir, we are constantly in contact with people of all ages. On top of that, I definitely appreciate my quiet, courteous neighbors. Having had some teenage neighbors with blasting boomboxes in suburbia, I know what a young neighborhood can be like.
Now, as for “being fitted for a coffin,” that is hardly my day by day experience here. Life is full of so many activities, John and I have to be very selective about what we can take on. I very much like the fact neighbors participate in committees that plan activities and keep up-to-date on what is going on in the neighborhood. For example, John serves on a committee that is concerned about landscaping to keep the beautiful grounds healthy and well-tended. I serve on a committee that oversees a fund to give employees a gift check each Christmas. Mercifully, no tipping is allowed at Deerfield, so residents need not feel guilty about trying to figure out how to tip the many people who serve us so carefully and cheerfully. Instead, it is possible to contribute to a fund that once a year is divided among the employees according to the hours they have worked. In other words, if someone begins work here in October, his/her check is smaller than that of one who has been here all year, and the employees know and appreciate that. They also tend to work here for years, a tribute to this place in an era when employees, especially the young, tend to move from one job to the other.
Finally, whether we are children, young adults, or oldsters, there is always the fact we are mortal. Yes, too, as we get older, the odds of a final farewell increase. In that case, one of the things that reassures John and me is the lovely Memorial Garden at Deerfield, where we know someday our ashes can be buried, nearby for the one who is left behind to walk to visit. We hope that day will be long in the future, but we have a quiet assurance about when it does come. Until then, we are living a life we very much enjoy and know that, no matter where our children may move from one place to another, they can know we are safe and come visit when they can. Those visits are a delight, and I smile every time I cross the little footbridge to our front porch. Our granddaughter Rebekah at the age of nine skipped across it, and said, “This is the Bridge of Happiness!” Yes, it is!
Elizabeth Hubbell