I'm now five weeks into my new adventure - a full time job. On the surface, that may seem like the opposite of adventure; on a day quickly approaching, I may feel think that too. How did I end up here, as the receptionist and front office assistant at an Assisted Living facility? I applied for endless varieties of jobs in non-profits, Portland is rife with them, but the market in Portland is neck deep in young caring professionals looking for part-time jobs. Finally, the motivation of rent inspired me to take a job only a mile from my house, at $10/hr as a receptionist. As an introvert, this decision seemed almost counter-intuitive. Up until this point, my time in Portland had been spent 50% in slumber. I have no experience as a receptionist. Elderly people have difficulty understanding me when I speak (the frequency of my voice can't be heard by the human ear). But they hired me, with the understanding that I will be moving away in May.
At the front desk I have the unique opportunity to listen to the residents talk to each other at leisure, without them knowing I can hear them. (Although sometimes I question this, sometimes I think they just don't care if people know what they say). Topics range from the light-hearted weather and activity talk to the endless regrets for moving from their homes, complaints about how their children don't respect them and treat them as infants, and longing for family interactions. I have to sit through loud whispers of how much better the previous receptionist was than me...oh, Joanie. She's another story altogether. These folks have spent their whole lives busy, and to sit in idleness feels like the worst fate. As they sit and wither, health degrades, some are sent to higher level care facilities, some pass away. No matter how many activities are planned, how many TV shows and crossword puzzles fill their hours, there remains ample amount of time to contemplate the inevitability of death.
And I get to sit and observe it, and contemplate the inevitability of my own death, and mostly likely, my own aging process. First to mind is heart and body health. Weight loss is not the only reason to exercise! I have no longing for living forever, but I also don't want to be hobbling around with a walker at the age of 70.
I don't fault a single one of them for feeling cast aside and undervalued. I can't blame them for longing for a different time. An 80 year old person today was at the height of their game in the era of McCarthyism, where families were perfect units and receptionists didn't shave odd portions of their hair off. Peace activist Howard Zinn died recently at the age of 88 after endless years of highly intellectual thought and action on issues of peace and social justice. He did not lose the ability to process complex current events and lived a very active lifestyle. My grandpa is 87 and still loves to haul hunks of iron around his yard via riding lawn mower. Up until now, every year my grandpa ages, that year becomes the year before "old". But now I'm surrounded by people average aged much younger than that with health conditions like water spiraling down a drain.
An Assisted Living differs from a Nursing Home in the level of care offered, the people here are not able to live alone, but mostly can meet their own needs. They enjoy the convenience of someone else doing their laundry, cooking their meals, mowing the lawn, and the distinct advantage of having compatriots with similar interests and lifestyles. There's a strong argument for that. Whether those needs can be better met in a family can't be answered in a blanket statement about care for the elderly. I would gently argue that the inter-generational relationships benefit everyone in a family setting, the elderly watching the children, the children learning from the elderly, and the middle generation providing sustenance and care for both. This set-up would also offer the elderly mental stimulation and a sense of purpose and of home. There's a certain gravity to the aged that offers balance in a young household. A people (I'm talking about us as a culture) who don't value these representatives of the past are losing something essential, very simply, humanity. Just as we will (mostly) all be old someday, everyone old was someday young, sprightly, comely. The events of their lives unfolded in passion, grief, and prayer. Experiencing the slackening of your muscles and the fading of your mind must be absolutely terrifying.
An Italian man was changing trains in Frankfurt, Germany when a man tapped him on the shoulder and told him he had dropped a deutschmark, worth a few dollars perhaps, and returned it to him. Am I annoyed after hearing this story four times from a man reeking of urine? Yes. But isn't it also fascinating to think how important this one event 40 years ago was in a man's life? It is proof to him throughout his life that there are decent people in the world. What is it that people hold on to when all else has been taken from them, their homes, family, independence, and sometimes even their dignity? Those are the things to listen for, and to cultivate in life now.
