Category: Elderly

The Cat that Stalks Me

I can’t believe I’m able to do this. I can’t believe that day after day, I can put one foot in front of the other and put one thing in a box, and one thing in a bag, and end the day, still putting things in bags and boxes.

Useless, precious, beautiful objects of my affection. Proof of my existence. And one day no one will care for them nor remember me.

This hard work and I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing or where I’m going. And even less whatI I’m supposed to be doing or where I should be going. I try not to think about it too much. I just keep doing.

This is how I’ve lived my life. When a door opens, I just go in. Not putting much thought into it. And here I am getting closer and closer to the end of my life and still living the same way. But more aware than ever of futility.

And now worry stalks me like a dangerous and silent cat in the wild would. I am it’s prey and it, my predator.

I think it’s always been with me. I used to not notice it. But these days, I’m made aware of it by weakness creeping in, by my slowing gait, by increasing frailty.

I’m aware of its footsteps falling almost imperceptible except for a rare snap of a twig, or a small tumble of a stone. but still closely behind. I’m beginning to hear it’s heavy breathing when I hush. I hear its snuffling at my foot prints left in the soft soil I call my life.

It is there in the night with only the stars and the moon as my companions… no protection at all but, I remind myself, I still can call up fire. But it never rests and so neither can I. I can sometimes see its eyes glowing in the flickering flames.

During the daylight hours, I am distracted mostly, but these days, not like in the past. What will I do when I can no longer move forward, when I must lay down, when rest is needed more than life itself?

Then I will lie down. Then worry and wonder and unknowing will no longer stalk me. Then I will rest.  Then, I will no longer need the strength that now I do.

So now, before I lay me down, I will put some more things in bags and I will put some more things in boxes.

Good night, big and beautiful and wild cat. I hear you breathing softly.

I Don’t Want to Live Long… Unless:

What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?

Unless you’re physically and mentally in good health, it is my opinion that one should, as well as might be accomplished, pass on gratefully and peacefully.

When I say, ” in good health”, both physically and mentally, I am aware that good health is relative to each individual. I intimately know what it means to me. I have been nigh unto death twice in my life.

As for me, I do not want to live disabled,  physically confined to a wheelchair nor in a bed nor in a nursing home staring at the walls. Nor would I want to live with dementia. My grandmother had dementia, and it was torturous, more so for her, but also for those of us who loved her dearly.

As my mom used to say when she was dying on hospice, I do not want my heart to keep on beating when my mind ceases to function. I am in complete agreement with that sentiment.

Many members of my family have lived very long lives, some even passed one hundred years. When I was younger, I thought I wanted to follow in their footsteps. I no longer have that wish.

Now that I’m nearing 80, I know what pain is. I know what it is have your organs begin to fail. I know what it is to feel myself getting weaker, though I work on my physical body constantly.

I know what it is to be disrespected by those that are younger. I know what it is to be disregarded, though I am educated and my intellect is still intact. I make an effort to learn new things every day.

But in spite of all of that, I love my life. I enjoy my memories. I love each season in turn. I have had an adventurous life. I have been loved good and bad. As I like to say, “I have been ridden hard and put away wet”.  And I have no regrets. I can say with a keen certainty that I fear life more than death.

For now, I will live my life just as I wish… anyway, as well as my diminutive finances will let me. I am satisfied with what I have. But I don’t wish to live without my health and an ability to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly.

When I was younger, and my life was full of new experiences, I often said, “Leave when you have to; stay as long as you can”. I realize now that wasn’t always the best advice. But it sure made for an interesting life.

Probably not Presentable

I’m truly turning into that stereotypical old woman.

I wear the same clothes every day for at least a week, unless they’re too dirty to be seen in public. At home dirty clothes are all right with me.

I don’t change my underwear every day unless they smell.

I only change my sheets every couple of weeks, sometimes, only once a month.

I don’t wash my face every day. I don’t like to shower except after I’ve been in the pool for aquafit classes, and so I don’t.

I’d rather eat a hamburger out every day than cook. I rarely eat salad. I want cookies and/or candy every day.

I wish I could get away without brushing my teeth, or ever going to the dentist. The same goes for visiting the doctor.

I don’t really ever want to leave the house. I’m happy with staying home with my knitting; nothing could entice me to travel.

I’d rather concentrate on memories than making plans. Dying doesn’t scare me but living does.

But in spite of that, I went to the “Christmas Revels” last night, and it was wonderful. I put on clean clothes, brushed my hair and my teeth and washed my face. I had aquafit in the morning, so I had a shower.

I was, for a night, what you might call, presentable.