Space Goddess » Blog Archive » Growing old is not for sissies!

I’m not sure when I first began to think about getting old—at age 30, definitely middle-aged I thought; 40 was a painful blur; 50, the beginning of the best years of my life so far; it wasn’t 50, so when was it or, perhaps more revealing, why was it?

I spent a few days in Chicago this week, an unplanned visit with my mother, who had been admitted to the hospital on Monday. Mom is going to be 90 years old in October and is suffering some form of dementia. When Mom goes to the hospital, it’s a very big deal.

Two years ago my mom spent a few days in the hospital with pneumonia. When my brother, Ron, called me, I was about to head home from a week of hotel site inspections in Athens and Crete (It’s fun to chronicle my life by destinations!). By the time I got home to Kansas City, the “I just want you to know…” call became “You’d better come up ASAP!” I was very upset and had meaningless conversations with myself to allay my fears and projections (why don’t I project happy events?):”Come on, Barbara,” I chided, “She’s lived a full life. Don’t be selfish!”; the truly selfish “This is really bad timing; I have so much work to do; and the dose of reality, “So this is what it’s like to grow old.”

My mother recovered and we brought her home laden with prescriptions, a machine to help break up her congestion, and lots of flowers.

On the plus side, Mom had asked me to buy her a new bed before she got home—a “super duper, extra-long, twin-sized, electrically-endowed-to-move-in-many-directions bed” and it had been delivered in time for her return from Hotel Hospital (they have valet parking AND Starbucks!!!). I had adjusted the bed so her head would be elevated (just like in the hospital—where she repeatedly told me how much she loved the hospital bed!). Using her walker, Mom came into the bedroom, looked at the bed and said, “I can’t sleep like that! Put the mattress flat!”