Three Score and Ten, What Then?

by Peggy Mary E. Smith

  Of course, the children, Jacob, Jackie, and Charity, were there with me at the hospital offering a lot of optimism and support. They kept telling me I’d be fixed up and sent home in no time, but I think they were already thinking the time had come for me to not be on my own. I could see it in their eyes. I knew it was out of love and concern and that they had my best welfare at heart, but I wasn’t ready to give up my home yet. I wasn’t going to give in without a good fight. I just wasn’t ready!

  Well, the doctors were able to do surgery the next day to pin my hip. It wasn’t shattered, so they were able to stabilize it and repair it. There were no complications, and the surgery went very well. They said the healing was all up to me. I figured that I still had enough gumption to do the job, and if I behaved myself, I would be back home in a month, give or take a week or two. That’s what I told myself anyway. It was the only plan that I was willing to accept. Home, that’s where I was going. Back to the comforts of my own house. The only place I belonged.

  Well, the whole hospital experience was quite an ordeal for me. I had made it to one-hundred and three and had had the good fortune to never have spent one minute in hospital as a patient. I’d been there lots as a visitor and spent a week there during Logan’s last days, but I had never had the need to stay there myself. How fortunate I had been, indeed. It sure was quite the transition. The reality of my predicament didn’t take long to settle in. The shock of the break and the surgery took its toll on my old body. It knocked the stuffing out of me.

  The first week or so, I was in a lot of pain and felt grateful to be there even though I didn’t like the idea. I knew I was where I needed to be under the circumstances. There was no way I could care for myself. I needed to be on painkillers, and I needed all the nursing care I was getting, so I was okay with my situation initially. But, as the weeks began to pass I got pretty cantankerous. I was getting really homesick.

  As my health improved, my pride and humility started to return as well. I just wanted to be able to use a toilet and wipe my own butt without involving others. There is nothing more humiliating than having a stranger wipe your backside. Even if they are a professional. I so yearned to have a proper shower and wash my hair. I’d about had enough bed baths, and that waterless shower cap they used to refresh my hair had lost all the appeal. Oh, for a real shower! I missed the privacy of my own home.

  Everyone I know who was in hospital for a spell always had bad things to say about the food, but I really couldn’t complain so much in that regard. It was all edible. Maybe it wasn’t of my desire or prepared in the same fashion I would have done, but it wasn’t so bad. They served a fairly good variety. When it comes to food, I’ve always been an easy keeper. That’s what Ma used to say anyway.

  I had lots of company and visitors drop in to have a chinwag with. My family and friends were very attentive. They all tried to sound optimist and upbeat. They brought my mail and kept me up on the local news telling me who was doing what. It helped pass the time.

  After a month of bed rest, I was told I could start rehab to slowly build up my strength and try to get back on my feet. That was the news I’d been waiting for. Yippee! But I hadn’t thought it would be so hard. It was very painful, and I found myself weak as a newborn kitten. Terrible what lying around for so long does to an aging body. I found out that I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. It was going to take longer than I had hoped.

  I’m not so sure the doctors figured on me ever walking again. They kept saying, “At your age”. I finally got perturbed and let them know that I knew what my age was. After all, I hadn’t hit my head and lost my memory. I may be old, but I wasn’t senile. I knew I was one-hundred and three. I also knew I was dang stubborn, and I intended to walk out of that joint as soon as possible! All that poking, prodding, and fussing was driving me crazy. I longed for the comforts of my own home, being surrounded with my own things, and just putting in each day at my own discretion. Home was the only place for me. I’d already been gone way too long.

  After two weeks of hard work and perseverance, I was able to walk to the washroom and back with the aid of two nurses and a walker. To go pee on a toilet again was wonderful. Who’d a thought you could find so much excitement in that. I was back to doing my own paperwork! Thank goodness. It was my first hurdle to achieve. By the end of the third week, I could manage with one nurse and the walker, but I was still a little unsteady on my feet. It took a lot of maneuvering to get that dang walker to go where I wanted it to. It was big and cumbersome, and I couldn’t seem to get the knack of backing up to the toilet while driving that thing. Still, I was making progress.

  It was about that time that the doctor mentioned to me that I should put some thought into going to a nursing home to complete my rehab. Apparently I was no longer an acute care case and couldn’t stay in hospital much longer. He said perhaps even for a short time, just until I was able to fend for myself. I was against that idea. I assured him that I could manage quite nicely at home if he’d sign my release forms. Well, he assured me that he was against that idea. He felt that I would need assistance to ambulate for some time to come, perhaps two to six months. I just felt sick at that thought. I thought that I was doing well enough, and would be able to head back home in a few more weeks. Just a little more time and I would walk right out the front door. There was no way I was going to agree to going to a nursing home. I figured that once I was there, they’d lock the door behind me and throw away the key.”

  Beth laughed again, “I sure would have loved to be a bug on the wall during that conversation, Gran. What else did the doctor say?”

  “Well, the good doctor let me know that he would be in touch with the children and discuss my situation with them. That idea made me feel even worse. I felt like it was a conspiracy. I knew how the children felt. They had been nagging at me for a few years to consider moving into the old folk’s home. I knew in my heart that it was because they worried about me and were concerned for my welfare, but I wasn’t interested in entertaining that idea at all. I still remembered all too well what it was like living there from my sister Rose’s experience. And there have been countless others that I’ve gone to see in those places. Nope, no siree! I wasn’t going to move there.

  Time, I just needed a little more time and I’d be good as new. Well, maybe not new, but as good as I was before I broke my hip. I just had to persevere and work harder to get going on my own. I knew in a few more weeks I would be able to go home and get back to doing my own thing. That was the plan. It was the only plan I would accept, and I knew it was all up to me to find a way to make it work. I would have to muster up all my gumption and get going. I just had to!”

  the game changer

  “Well, as I recall, I ended up spending the best part of the summer of 2000 in that dang hospital. I eventually got up and going on my own, and the doctor signed my release papers. Very begrudgingly, I think, but he let me go home. Well, not to my own home, but out of that place anyway. Jackie agreed to let me go to her house to stay for a few weeks to make sure that I would be capable of staying alone in my own home. I was in agreement to that.

  The doctor also had me sign up for homecare so that it was in place for my move back to my home, and, of course, I had to agree to put my name on the list for a bed at the nursing home, in case I needed to consider moving there in the future. It seems there was quite a lengthy list of folks trying to get in there. I could only hope that my name never made it to the top of that list!

  Anyway, Jackie was willing to take me to her house to convalesce. I was able to get around pretty good with just the aid of a cane. It helped to give me support and balance, and I felt a little more secure having it. I was well able to look after myself in regards to dressing and hygiene and such. I just needed to rebuild my energy and stamina so I would be able to do all my household chores and cooking once again.

  Jackie took me out to the old house to help me pick up a few clothes and things the day after my
discharge. It was so good to get out of the car and see my home. I walked all around the yard. I felt sad to see my flower gardens. Nancy had watered and weeded them during my absence, and I was thankful to her for that, but they needed a little loving. I felt like I had abandoned them.

  I went inside the house. Oh, it was so good to be home! Home at last. All my things were waiting for me. Everything was just as I had left it. I felt overwhelmed. I looked around the walls at all the family pictures. The familiar smiling faces looked back at me, just as they always had. I was so happy I just sat down and cried. There’s no place like home! It’s true. Home is where the heart is.

  Jackie gave me a minute, then helped me pack the few things I’d need. I didn’t really want to leave, but I knew I’d be back in a few weeks to stay for good. I had been away this long, so a few more weeks would be bearable. Then I would be back to stay.

  Oh, how wonderful it felt to get back to normal living. It was so quiet and peaceful. No commotion or chaos going on all around at all times. There were no call bells buzzing or anyone hollering. There were no nurses bugging me with medications or medical procedures. Heaven it was, simply heaven.

  Jackie and Eric had pretty busy schedules and weren’t often home. They were both involved in many organizations now that they were retired, and they both had hobbies and such that kept them active. I didn’t need twenty-four hour supervision, so their absence gave me some solitude. How delightful that was. I had been craving alone time for weeks, and it gave me a chance to do things by myself, for myself in my own time without someone overseeing.

  How wonderful to regain my independence. It was great to be able to go to the fridge and get a glass of juice or plug in the kettle and make a cup of tea. I was able to butter some bread and make myself a sandwich. Simple things, perhaps, but I finally felt like I was living again.

  The homecare nurse stopped by the first week to supervise my bath and make sure I was capable of accomplishing the procedure. She gave me the green light, but made the recommendation to install a grab bar in my tub at home which Jackie assured her would be taken care of. The nurse felt quite certain I was capable of looking after my own meds as I was totally cognitive and only took a couple anyway. The nurse was very adamant that a homecare worker would be stopping by every week to do my light housekeeping and laundry, and she wanted me to take my bath while this person was there so I wouldn’t be alone in the house while I was in the tub. I thought that I could live with those orders.

  The following week Jackie packed me up and took me home to stay. She was satisfied that I could manage on my own. Jacob and Nancy had stocked my fridge and pantry and made sure the house was clean and ready for my return. Everything was in good order. I was so thankful for all they had done, and for Jackie and Eric’s hospitality, as well. Without all their help I would have had to go to the old folk’s home for sure, and I wasn’t willing to go there. I sure appreciated everything.

  I couldn’t wait for them to leave so that I could just sit quietly in my favourite chair and savour the moment. I slept like a baby that first night home. It was sheer luxury to sleep in my own bed in my own linens. After Logan had died, I took to sleeping on his side of the bed, and on my return, I felt like he was there welcoming me back. There’s nothing like resting in your own bed. I had made it home! With any luck at all, I’d never have to leave.

  After a few days, I had settled back in to my old routine. It was nice to be home and be surrounded by all my own stuff. It was thrilling to walk around each room and look at all the pictures, furniture, and other things. Each and every item brought back precious memories. I could still recall where or from whom I had acquired each piece. Though I never owned anything of great value, I valued everything I had.

  Well, we were almost into August by that time. All seemed to be back to normal. I was savouring each day. I knew I wasn’t able to get around as spryly as I had before I had broken my hip, but I was capable of doing all I needed to do. The little homecare nurse that came weekly took care of all my cleaning and laundry. That lightened my load, and I was able to make my own meals. And I had lots of visitors. Someone was always stopping by to check in on me. I was managing very well, and every day I made a point of going outside and spending time in my gardens. That was very therapeutic, and by the time autumn rolled around, I had managed to get them back in order.

  We decided to meet up at James’s that year for the Thanksgiving feast. Their family all made it home, and we were joined by Janice, Charity, Jacob, and Jackie with their broods. Some of Murray and Mary Beth’s family made it, too. What a full house!”

  “It sure was, Gran. We ate in shifts. No one was bothered by that though. We were just glad to be together,” Beth comments.

  “It had been some time since we had all managed to sit down together in the big dining room at the back of the old store and enjoy a meal,” I continue. “Logan had always loved that room. He had said it was the heart of the store. All the important business was discussed there over supper. I couldn’t recall the last time so many of us had broken bread there together. I was thankful to be there to enjoy the festivities with those I loved.

  Before we knew it, October was gone, and we were well into November. Winter arrived with a force, and the snow piled up. We were all gearing up for the festivities of the Christmas season. Then, just like that, December was here. The first started out like any other day. I woke up and put the coffee on. I checked the calendar and saw that it was Charity’s birthday. She was eighty that day. I thought I’d give her a call around nine to wish her happy birthday. I had my coffee and toast and about nine fifteen I called. There was no answer. I figured she had gone out early to run some errands and would try a little later. I saw the mail man go by around eleven and went out and got the mail. I was just in the middle of reading the flyers when Jacob stopped by. I knew by the look on his face that it was no social call.

  I wasn’t prepared for the news he had brought to me. I was stunned. How could it be? Charity was dead. She had died of a massive stroke. She had slumped over at the dinner table the night before. Her husband had called the ambulance and got her to the hospital, but she never came to. She died at two in the morning. She died on her eightieth birthday. I was in shock. My baby was gone. My third born. Another child gone before me. How could a mother bear such news? Royce’s beautiful little girl was gone. Oh, how he had loved his baby girl. That’s all I could think of!

  Jacob knew that this would be hard for me. How could it not be? A few years earlier when we had lost Mary Beth and Murray, I had felt such deep anguish. They were all that had preserved my sanity after Jed died. They had been my focus and my reason to go on. They were all that I had left of Jed. He had been the love of my life! It’s not the proper succession for an old woman to remain and have her children depart. Why, was all I could say? Life was just so hard to figure out, and sometimes it was just so very hard!

  Everyone tried hard to console me during the days that followed, but in truth, I had given up. That had been the last straw. I could no longer find anything to hold on for. Charity’s passing had broken my spirit. I was a very old woman, and suddenly I felt very old. I just felt that there was nothing left in this world for me. I wanted it to be my time. My time to go.

  Charity’s visitation and funeral service was a very fitting tribute to her life. Her husband and family had done right by her, for sure. Charity would have approved of all their choices. It was truly a celebration of her life, but none of that made it any easier for me to accept. I sobbed my heart out through the whole service. I still had tear filled eyes as I was leaving the church. That’s how I ended up on the sidewalk on my head. I didn’t notice the ice on the church stairs and lost my footing. Down I went. I went down hard. I was a lump on the sidewalk with blood pooling under my face. What a calamity!

  I knew I had done some serious damage right off. My right arm was in a lot of pain, and when I tried to get up, I couldn’t use it. The pain rad
iated up into my shoulder. My glasses had dug into my face when I landed on them, and blood was running down my cheek and dripping onto the cement. Oh Lord! What had I done! That’s all that I could think about.

  Jackie and Jacob were right there to help. The huge crowd descending from the church gathered around to see what all the commotion was. I was very humiliated by my clumsiness and just wanted to hide. Several gals who are nurses were there, and after they did an assessment of my condition, they made the decision to call an ambulance. They knew I had broken my arm and maybe my shoulder, but it was mostly due to my head injury. They said I may have a concussion. Of course, I tried hard to protest. I just wanted a ride home, but I got a ride to the emergency room instead. I knew right there and then, this change of circumstance was going to be a game changer, and not one that I would be very accepting of. Oh my, what had I done! That’s all that I could think of.”

  what we leave behind

  “The details of that day are all still very sharp in my memory. It’s hard to believe a year has passed already. It seems like it was just yesterday, Beth. A lot has sure happened since then. That’s what got me sent here. Nothing really prepared me for it, but I knew it was inevitable. Without the full use of my right arm, I knew there was no way I could go back to my little house and look after myself, and I had been too much of a burden on my family as it was. No, I knew that I had to stop resisting fate. The doctor was right, even though I never gave him the satisfaction of telling him so. It was time to face facts and accept the offer of the room at the old folk’s home.

  When I had regained consciousness after surgery on my arm and shoulder, I knew my gig was up. The orthopedic surgeon that had operated on my hip just months before was the same doctor to operate on my arm. Before he put me under, he said he would do his damnedest to ensure I would get full use of my arm, but he couldn’t make any promises. It was shattered, broken in three places and my shoulder was dislocated. It had been a long surgery, and even though I pulled through it well, it knocked the stuffing out of me.