I Could Never Do That To My Parents

 

By Thomas Torrey

Last week I interviewed Lisa, a Florida professional whose mother lives in the Memory Care neighborhood at a continuing care retirement community (CCRC). This particular community is about two years old and draws its architectural inspiration from country clubs, hotels, and spas, as opposed to the cinderblock-lined hallways from the institutional era that still haunts us. Lisa’s mother lives in a private suite, for instance, orders her meals from a daily menu, and can take a dip in the heated salt-water pool any time she wishes. She is surrounded by her peers and engages with them regularly when participating in the many group activities that the community schedules. She is stimulated, she loves her home, and she has round-the-clock care and security from the team of certified nursing assistants whom she each knows by first name.

“This is the best environment for her,” Lisa told me. “Better than her own home or even living with me.”

And yet, Lisa still has to defend her and her mother’s choice of living to their extended family. “I could never do that to my mother,” was the retort from one of Lisa’s family members. And as Lisa told me this, she started to cry. “I get so offended at this notion,” she said.

And she should be. For those of us who have helped our loved ones move into a retirement or healthcare community like the one Lisa’s mother lives at, it is offensive for someone else to imply that we have “given up” or “settled”, and that somehow a life lived in a CCRC is anything less than optimum. My grandmother lives in the assisted living neighborhood of a community similar to the one described above–a community I introduced her to and encouraged her to move into–and whenever I talk with her the first thing she tells me is, “Thank you, Thomas. Thank you for introducing me to this place.”

The old, clinical stigma of “nursing homes” is still so pervasive in our culture, and I have no doubt that it is what fuels people’s thoughts and words when they say things like “I could never…”. But if you find yourself saying those words, just know that all across the country there are communities pioneering a new way for our elders to live. And these communities often offer a much better way to live, supplying amenities, programs and socialization that is simply unavailable anywhere else.

So the next time someone challenges you and your loved one’s decision and says “I could never do that to my mother”, you can say, “Well I could never settle for anything less than the highest quality of life for mine.”

And then invite them for stuffed lobster at your mother’s clubhouse dining room.

 

6 Responses to “I Could Never Do That To My Parents”

  1. Ann Landau says:
    October 16, 2011 at 8:10 PM

    I heartily agree with your article. My husband and I have been residents of a wonderful retirement and continuing care community for six years now. It is the best gift that we could give our children to say nothing of ourselves. They know we are safe and happy here. I say that what I love here is that my children will always have someone rational to talk to….staff social workers, for instance. I could make a long list about what is good here and what I do not miss in my old life; how despite my husband’s ill health, we can make the most of every day and still enjoy life. And you, are right….ask your friends to visit the community with you. People literally have no idea how great it can be. Some of our old friends from our former community will say ‘We’re not ready yet…” Yet if they visit us they are amazed and now some are on the path to coming here too. I have heard grown children who are visiting say ‘when can WE move in?…” Now there’s an endorsement!

    Reply
    • Thomas Torrey says:
      October 17, 2011 at 9:20 AM

      Thanks Ann! For those of us who not only work in the industry that serves people such as yourself, but who also have loved ones living in retirement communities and healthcare facilities, your words are a far-reaching affirmation of what we’re doing, and how the stigmas of the past can be overcome. Keep sounding the trumpet!

      Reply
  2. Matt Blanc says:
    October 17, 2011 at 11:12 AM

    I found a nice retirement center with ‘continuing care’ for my mother when she was 81 and becoming disoriented and frail and the neighborhood she was in was changing downward and i feared for her safety. She hated me for the whole year that I spent visiting with her at different sites, and getting her to start packing. She did absolutely nothing to downsize from her 3-bedroom house to a a 1-bedroom apartment until I came a week before the move and there were tears and fights every day and night. Her first words in her new apartment, which I set up with her own furniture to recreate her living room as much as I could, were “Well, here’s where I’ll die.” Then she met a few other widows in the center, and a few of them were Italian (her background.) Suddenly I couldn’t reach her by phone because she was always down in the lobby chatting with her friends. Her depression and sullenness disappeared as she got to know more people, and she was so proud that her apartment had been chosen by the managers as one to show prospective renters because of how nice it looked. I couldn’t have her with me – I lived in the middle of a big city, in a tiny house with no option to add on and not enough money to enlarge it. Plus I traveled 2-3 times a month on business and my hours when in town were erratic – she would have been just as alone as she had been in her own house. Live-in care was just too expensive, and let’s be honest, all of the help available would have been Hispanic or black, and my mother was a racist. No one would have put up with her for more than a day. After 4 years, my mother had several strokes that took away her speech and understanding of language, and then her high blood pressure led to several falls. She had to move to assisted living from independent living, and spent some time in the nursing center. I was lucky that there was always room in the same facility and could just move her down a few halls rather than to an entirely new place. Was the whole thing worth it? Probably. She wasn’t in a super-high-end place, but it suited her to be with other widowed housewives, postal workers, and small shop owners. She wouldn’t have fit in with retired senior managers, doctors, or other higher-income folks. And the place was always clean and lively. My tip to anyone looking: smell the halls and rooms – if you can smell disinfectant and ‘old people smell’ of urine and unwashed bodies, look elsewhere.

    Reply
  3. Young Man « Wrinkle Think℠ says:
    October 26, 2011 at 4:32 PM

    [...] A useless man who now had to figure out a plumber I could trust. (See Thomas Torrey’s post here I Could Never Do That To My Parents for more on that related [...]

    Reply
  4. Louisa Stimer says:
    January 7, 2012 at 6:58 PM

    Hi there! This post couldn’t be written any better! Reading through this post reminds me of my previous room mate! He always kept talking about this. I will forward this article to him. Pretty sure he will have a good read. Thank you for sharing!

    Reply

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