Tag: aging

• Flickering Ember

  

  There has been a time gap since I last wrote. Sometimes I get busy with the diversity of projects I am connected to that extend beyond my work with Canadian Religious Stewardship. And sometimes I am simply not inspired.

  Here I am today, a spring fresh morning in Saskatoon. I walked with music this morning, and came upon a long term favourite song of mine: The Mystery of Your Gift sung by Josh Groban. I listened to it over and over and came to the conclusion: this song speaks deeply to me of dementia.

  Consider these lyrics:

  “A single note passes out of the ashes
  A flickering ember begins
  It’s the courage to turn when the pages have burned
  And your story now seems at an end
  Seasons stay and seasons go
  Sending your memories adrift
  It’s the beautiful longing, embrace the unknown
  That’s the mystery of your gift.”

  On Friday when I had some free time before heading home, I went to find two of my dementia friends to see if they wanted to get outside as it was a stunning spring day. (Want to gift a senior’s home? Volunteer to sit with people outside or take them on a walk around the block). My friends said yes and off we went. What is great about dementia is there is no pondering of what is next or seeking to find past tasks, overall depending on the type there is often an easy focus on the present.

  So off we went. Me stopping to look at the budding trees and them following, me teasing ( with these two they have the cognitive power for that) about a variety of things I notice along the way. Like should we borrow that kid’s skateboard for a whirl? I love hearing them laugh or chastise me teasingly when my imagination gets carried away. They are having the courage to turn when the pages are burned, they are embracing the unknown as their memories are adrift. Some days they hurt as they cannot find their people, but more consistently there is joy. One wobbles in her heels with her heavy socks…the other walks simply taking in the spring air with a big smile on his face.

  We lost a third friend a few weeks back. A gentleman who often walked about with his arms crossed and a grouchy look on his face. A grouchy look that disguised a kind and joyful heart despite his frustration about not doing the “work” he thought he was still supposed to be doing. How I will miss the “moments” of joy from him as he tried to teach me German.

  The mystery of the gift – we will never fully comprehend what is going on in a mind with dementia. But let’s trust the mystery of it all and enable them to push us to be present in the moment. That is really all we have, is it not?

  May 5, 2025

  aging, alzheimers, dementia, family, health, mental-health, moment, time

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• Generativity and Integrity

  The word generativity is surfacing for me this week. It is the 7th stage (of 8 stages) of Erikson’s theory of psychosocial development. I am not an expert on this, and a new psychologist friend does not put much credence in such theories. Nonetheless I am starting with it this morning. I am uncertain about Erikson’s expectations regarding lifespan. He placed the end of this generative stage at about 65. Many of the people I support would then be living their final stage (integrity) for over 30 years!!

  

  I think there is value in exploring generativity and integrity. In my simplistic interpretation of things, the two questions asked by these 2 stages are:

  • What am I leaving behind, as in what have I generated?

  • How am I coming to terms with my life as a whole? Have I lived a life of meaning and purpose?

  According to Erikson’s age scale, if you do the math, one might spend 20 to 30 years in this last chapter of life. I firmly believe in the cyclical nature of life. I think our lives are more of a spiral that we “zip” up and down on. It’s not a linear reality where we check off each stage and keep moving forward on the life line. In saying that, I dare to say that each of the 8 stages are part of one another. Generativity, for those who have nurtured a heart of compassion and service, is woven throughout most of the stages. 

  I observe the tension of generativity and integrity. It is clear when someone admits they can no longer “do/serve/contribute” like they used to. They face new physical limitations. I hear their struggle for integrity. They want to know that their human goodness remains. They care for others even if they cannot show it in the same ways as before. 

  People with solid cognitive function share care home meals with those with limited cognitive function. I see them wrestle with the tension of generativity and integrity. The tension is visible in their acknowledgment that the latter need their compassion and support. Yet, one wonders when one can just “be”. Is there a point when one can freely say, “I can be a person of integrity without serving the other?” 

  I wonder too about generativity being present through the acceptance of the service of others. I support Roman Catholic sisters as they age. I do a lot of things for them that they once easily did for themselves. They create space in their lives for me to support them. In doing so, they allow a place of generativity for me and my gifts. For some of them it does not seem fair that I serve and they appear to receive. Or that in their minds I work so hard while they feel they do so little. I do not know what is fair. I have no idea how well I will “receive” when it is my turn to do so. I just feel strongly that their generativity now involves learning to receive graciously. It also includes discerning well the support they seek.

  Through all of this, we try to support aging 90 year olds. We also strive to be a place of comfort and hope for 50 year olds dealing with cancer. Rationally none of it makes sense. Why can’t we just distribute the years evenly? This way, everyone can live longer lives. Yet we know that physical age is not really relevant. What truly matters is how one lives and moves with love and compassion, regardless of the length of life. And somehow life does not even need to make sense. It needs to be lived with love and hope. Along the way, one must acknowledge the pain and unfairness felt at the illnesses that claim whomever they want. 

  As we begin this Advent season, we are part of the church spiral of life. It calls us to seek light and justice in the season of darkness. May we hold close those amongst us who are feeling “beat up” or forgotten by God. May we hold close those who need our prayers and concrete support the most right now.

   “All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness…” Psalm 25

  December 1, 2024

  #lifeishard #deathtonewlife, advent, aging, generativity, integrity, longevity

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• Quality of Life

  My pondering this week has been circling around the concept of quality of life. What are, could be, should be, the perimeters around this? Every person would probably answer that question differently. We know with the option of MAID in Canada the choice can now be made (interesting homonyms when you think about it) to end one’s life if one deems one’s quality of life is not enough to keep living (and you meet the MAID criteria). 

  

  My sister and I were discussing this. She has a brother in law who is special needs, in his early 50’s, now residing in a long term care home as he is no longer able to walk on his own. 

  I am supporting a religious sister in a similar situation. 

  We wondered aloud why painkillers like Tylenol given out whether the person is in pain or not? The sister I support will not swallow the pills so they are ground up and fed to her with yogurt. You can see how bitter they are when ground up by the look on her face when she tastes the concoction.

  She was walking before she got admitted to the hospital on a social admission then many weeks later placed in a care home. In her dementia she was rude to staff and her incontinence was a problem. She would take off her depends in the hallway after having a bowel movement in them.

  After being in the hospital with the limited resources there she is no longer able to walk. The system from my perspective has failed her. On the spectrum of one’s final chapter of life and care, as kind and helpful as the home staff are, the system has failed her, is failing her.

  Why do I say that? I say that because it seems to me that her quality of life does not seem to be the central concern. The central concern is that as long as we somewhat meet her physical needs we have done our job. There are some quality of life activities that she gets connected to in the home. Music entertainers when they are in, and the other day she was sitting at a quilting table just smoothing down the fabric and enjoying it.

  I guess the real question I am struggling with is once again a question of enough: what is enough care? How is enough defined in a checklist for living a quality of life until the end, to natural death?

  Suffering is also a part of life, and MAID removes that reality for those who seek it. I am not saying bring the suffering on, I am just wondering about long term effects on the human spirit if we no longer have to deal with  pain. I do not know how I would handle long term care if it was me, or terrible pain and illness if it was me. I just know that when I am with this sister I am constantly challenged to ponder the baseline of what is enough care for quality of life, and wondering if there are better ways through these final life chapter besides MAID. I do not have a medical background, so perhaps I am not even entitled to raise the question. 

  Yet, this is what I have seen: 

  • Visiting her in emergency ( starting place for hospital placement until a nursing home bed can be found) and seeing her arms black and blue from inserting IV’s in case she may need meds or liquids delivered that way. She was perfectly fine without the IV before arriving in the hospital.
  • Seeing her in the hospital in restraints as she kept pulling the IV’s out as she did not like them or understand them. 
  • Seeing her physical state deteriorate day after day from being able to walk to having curled feet unable to walk, from eating herself to not having manual dexterity to do that. 

  After visiting her in the hospital the day after her admittance there I told the community leader that I would never allow anyone to be put in this situation again if I had access to resources to do it differently. It was like a scene from those old movies in which someone was involuntarily placed in a psych hospital. 

  The challenge though is just that: having the resources – be it finance, knowledge, health world connections – to never have to do it again. The reality is that many people are living a long time. We do not have the resources lined up to provide a positive quality of life when they do, when we do. 

  I do not know what the answers are, I just know that I need to allow myself to be disturbed by this situation so that I do not become complacent and say it is what it is. From my world of education to my new world of elder support and medical issues, complacency is not an option in either. Serving our young and their families is one of the ways we ensure the elders are cared for too. 

  May we be blessed with wise hearts that seek to serve the other in whatever situation they may find themselves.

  November 17, 2024

  aging, maid, mental-health, quality of life

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• Who Will Carry Our Stories?

  This week has been full. One sister has healed in the hospital (well mostly on our initiatives) and another has been blessed with a long term care home bed so will be transferred to her new home today.

  

  As religious sisters, without the daily presence of families, and as age erodes memories, sometimes they arrive into a long term care home and their stories are not carried in. There is no one that has intentionally noted them, and if one is not a writer and records things personally, the stories are lost. In families there tends to be more intentionality to share stories and memories together, often with photos to trigger the connections.

  Are the stories important? Is how we lived our 90 years of life important to us as we age and sometimes forget our past? Or is it like a daily starting over, and the past is not really that present or important anymore?

  I think it is important. I think our touchstones with one another, our shared experiences and histories matter. I think they colour our lives and remind us of loving and being loved. They remind us of the providence of God woven through every breath we take.

  As I write up the story of this sister’s life I feel a sense of grief for her. Not because she has not lived a full and good life, but because the evidence of that is scarce. The evidence is not to affirm her beauty but to enhance it. To have common starting places and shared memories that are not just about details but about feelings, about the warmth in your heart when you look at old pictures and remember the joy of the moment, the sense of belonging you shared with others even if the dementia is robbing you of the the who what why.

  I am not confident about this, but I know when I brought some old pictures to look at with her there was more of a light in her eyes, not a struggle because she couldn’t remember, but a light that perhaps said I had a good life. I cannot get inside dementia, but I can try to access her heart by carrying some of the memories for her and help others to do the same.

  There is a time for everything, including being the carrier of others’ stories.

  October 18, 2024

  aging, art, building relationships, dementia, memories, photography, writing

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• Friday’s Harvest

  So…after about two months in my new role as a Community Coordinator for aging Roman Catholic religious communities I find myself lying awake on a Friday night navigating so many unexpected gifts from my day.

  Consider this first posting a status update by someone who supports others and is learning what may be ahead for herself …and hopefully I will sustain the blog with a posting every few weeks sharing the gifts of my new ministry in the richness of its mutuality.

  So much beauty in this day…so many gifts…

  I tend to ask people when I see them in the hallway how they are doing, and making sure I stop and actually listen to their reply. Wow, do I love the honesty I encounter especially from those whose memory is crumbling. I asked this older gentleman who reminds me of my Dad, small in stature but large in personality, “How are you?” and I got the honest answer of , ” I am frustrated!”, followed by a story of a container catching water I think and not being able to find it and ??? He walks with me to the end of the hall way, and sits down in what I call the snoopervisory chair as you can see a lot of action. I affirm him in how it really does suck to be frustrated and not get done what you wanted to (without even knowing really what he was talking about). Then he says: “but I will learn and fix things for next time” …WOW! Even in his confusion he owns a potential learning. In his honest declaration of frustration it led him to “but I can learn from this”, WOW!

  Then down the same hallway ( I have sisters on 4+ different wings and floors) I encounter another man, who also sits in the snoopervisory chair zone and helps me to remember where I need to turn because of being such a faithful landmark. He has such a warm accepting spirit but at this moment was looking for his wife and in angst (not in the home with him and not sure what family he does have), yet when I listened to him I could feel his loss shifting a bit and a bit of his spark returning as I walked down the hall changed by him and feeling such loss for him at the same time …again such honesty…

  Moving down another hallway I hear someone yelling for help in his room so I take the sister I am visiting with to find out where the yell is coming from. We find a man in extreme agony from Parkinson’s begging for help as he couldn’t reach the call button. After we pressed the call button he asked if we could stay with him until help came. Such vulnerability, accompanied by such an honest seeking of support … and such gratitude when I saw him later and we had never met before today…

  What a day, and these are not even “my” people LOL…such gifts they offered me the weekend we celebrate “labour”. I am not always clear on how I arrived here but grateful…Blessed are we who have labour that fills the soul…how blessed are those with a vulnerable and open spirit…

  This image I “harvested” from the river bank this morning reminds me of the beauty and possibility of all stages of our journey…Happy Labour Day weekend!

  

  August 31, 2024

  aging, lifelonglearning

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