The other day I visited my grand parents at an assisted living apartment complex in Marshall. The whole complex looked like a regular apartment complex, but was actually better for several reasons.
They had this giant community room where they are constantly playing games and eating with friends. The food seemed pretty darn good, and bingo was always on tap. I also found a nice exercise room and an authentic casino table for poker and such. And the place was spiffy clean. Everything a person would need on a day-to-day basis was right there.
The office management folks had a nice front office where they were quite accessible to the residents. This contrasts with apartments in my experience where management was generally hard to find and didn’t like being bothered with anything.
They don’t have problems with neighbors playing rap music or some other untalented material. There was a bit of walker-traffic congestion during rush hour though.
There’s a lot of laughing, story telling and sharing of information. If we slipped a microphone in there and did an undercover Dateline investigation, we would probably come away with solutions to most of the world’s problems. But I don’t think it has occurred to anyone to do this yet. They are the most experienced people we’ll ever know.
Middle Age Over-Rated
I was sitting at my desk staring at a pile of bills. I had just returned from the gas station, where I routinely hand over my life’s savings to fill the U.S.S. Buick. Earlier that day, we had received the final analysis from the home air conditioning repair guy that a new system was going to be needed at a cost of $2600.00. And I just realized that my second half property taxes were coming due again soon, for thousands more.
The kids had been so hot and cranky for a couple days with no A/C. The wife wasn’t her usual self either. That evening, the kids were getting ready for bed and child #1 number one gave me a hug goodnight and wiped her sweaty forehead on my shirt as a parting gift. Child #2 gave me a hug and wiped his nose on my sleeve. Child #3 (the three year old) sat on my lap and asked a bedtime stall-tactic question, and passed gas while I gave the answer, acting all along like nothing unusual had just happened.
Here, in UNassisted living, I’m just everyone’s personal wet wipe and gas repository. What do I really have going for me over, say, a restroom?
These are the days when I think back to the assisted living setup and dream of retirement. I now want to be old as soon as possible. To be honest, even on the good days, I’m really looking forward to assisted living and all the frills.
The assisted living residents have other people making them food all the time if they want. This would not be a huge departure from my current situation, but still, there’s no mac and cheese and you never have to worry about anyone wiping his or her face on you after the meal.
They play games all day if they want to. They’re even gambling in there! And back in their rooms, if they need something and want a little help, they can just pull this little cord and voilà, some nice person is there to lend a hand.
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| Everything they need is right there. No hauling a bunch of bags from the grocery store. No car needed at all, actually. Which would allow me to park the U.S.S. Buick retire from the Navy.
One Big Happy Family
I can’t wait for assisted living. As a matter of fact, if my folks ever head for assisted living, it will be the easiest transition in history, because I’ll already be there, and I’ll be able to give them the full welcome and tour.
My mom just hates this whole idea I have. She doesn’t like the notion of me being in assisted living before she is. I suppose it falls along the same lines as parents not wanting to out-live their children. But I bet the real reason is that she won’t be able to false-grumble about the conditions after she arrives, because I’ll already know she has it made. I’ll be there being served the exact same full breakfast that she is, and we’ll both be scheduled for the final round of the bingo bonanza at high noon.
And that whole thing about me not coming to see her and dad enough — got it covered!
It Works For Me
Some might say that there are other drawbacks to being older in assisted living. Sure there are. Any age or living arrangement has its drawbacks. But I say, who cares if my teeth were made in China? The food still tastes great, which also paves the way for that two-hour nap I relish. And soooo what if I have 15 meds and a dozen vitamins to take everyday. For all I know, in this modern day, they’ll soon have flavors to choose from like tootsie roll calcium and root beer barrel pain reliever.
So maybe I do need to use a walker — no big deal. I’m going to need something to haul all my bingo jackpots back to my room anyway. Besides, there’s a whole area of untapped fun to be had with walkers. Anybody considered bumper walkers? And how about weaponized paintball walkers in camouflage? I never have time to play paintball in the UNassisted world.
Sure, sure, I know there’s more to the story of being a bit older and a little more worn for wear. But is it really all that much worse than being wiped on . . . and spilled on . . . and gassed with no cord to pull for help? And after a full day of that, I get NO bingo.
Mom, I’m ordering some new bingo daubers just in case I move up on the assisted living waiting list faster than anticipated (I’m hoping to be in before I’m 40). Do you need any, and if so, do you want red, blue or those new “Dabbin Fever” ones with the tropical scents?
I’m not kidding.
That’s my report from the “Big City”.
Brian in the Big City
Employee #0090698
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