At some point in the not-too-distant future, I know the tables will turn from my being a caregiver to a care receiver as I earn senior "senior" status. I see some privileges that come with that honorable title. I don’t need my children and grandchildren to put applesauce, a bib or diapers on my shopping list, but instead, show tickets and a suitcase.
At some point in the not-too-distant future, I know the tables will turn from my being a caregiver to a care receiver as I earn senior "senior" status. I see some privileges that come with that honorable title. I don’t need my children and grandchildren to put applesauce, a bib or diapers on my shopping list, but instead, show tickets and a suitcase.
So, family of caregivers in waiting, if you need helpful hints, its simple. Here they are:
First, I don’t want what I have seen caregivers do in the past. A rocking chair, cookies and oatmeal in front of the TV is not the lifestyle I envision. Just omit that plan.
Second, respect my quality of life and past lifestyle. Take me to Broadway shows and TV show tapings in New York City. Not only will I still qualify for senior discount tickets, but we will have the best seats in the house, those second row wheelchair seats. I will be in front of the line for autographs at the stage door. The celebrities will look sweetly at me and sign my Playbill or take a selfie with me. If Katie Couric or Jimmy Fallon are still around, make sure they shake my hand.
Third, I want Dr Oz to be my private physician because he knows if I should continue my laxatives, antihistamines, or stop taking calcium.
Should you find these wishes to be unrealistic requests as my future caregivers, I will try to be more grounded in reality, next April Fool’s Day.