Al and I are the same age. Al’s mother is 100 years old this summer. She is a cheerful and sociable woman who acts like she’s in her 80s. She still stands up straight, and has to be told to please use her walker because she has macular degeneration and sometimes falls.
Listening. I believe that listening this is one quality that I have been able to handle with a certain degree of expertise throughout my life. I am what they call a good listener. Now more than ever listening has become a valuable tool for those who take care of loved ones.
Wednesday is her caregiving day. That’s not to say she does not self-identify as a caregiver on the other six days, or change her caregiving schedule if something comes up, but on Wednesday you can count on the day being reserved for this purpose.
I know more centenarians than anyone. As a group they share some basic commonalities, but individually they have interesting idiosyncrasies. Anyone who has reached the age of 100 has secrets which they will reveal if you are listening.
Kay was on the phone. We were talking in the overlapping intersection between business and personal. She asked about my mother. She always does. She asked about me. She always does, and always after she’s got my mother’s status down. Kay is not a caregiver now but she knows a lot of them professionally.
I reached Don as he was leaving the hospital. “No,” he said, in response to my question of: did she make it. I didn’t need a question mark after the statement. There was no question about surviving a cardiac resuscitation on the dementia unit of a nursing home.