A new life beginning at age 93...

   My dad was born in 1919 and my mother in 1920. My father passed away several years ago, living well past his anticipated life expectancy age according to all the charts and graphs. My mother will turn 94 on her birthday in September and she would still like to drive. But for the safety of the others on the road, as well as her own safety and mine too, that is not an option, much to her disappointment.

   While my father seemed to have had just about everything in his body either removed or replaced, due to the marvels of modern medicine, my mother has lived a life free of illness, sickness or injury. And as for medications, it has only been recently that she has joined he ranks of those supporting the drug industry. 
   But time in now beginning to catch up and it is getting difficult for her to understand the changes that are taking place. Often she will ask and comment that she has been 'so healthy' all of her life, “why is this happening now?”  Up to this point I would remind her that she is 93 years old and sometimes, as one gets older, things change, the body and the mind don't work the way they used to work. But I don't say that to her any more.
   Looking back, the life expectancy of the generation of those born in the 1920's was anticipated to be between 55 and 60 years of age. Of course, there were always going to be exceptions and with the rapid advancements in the medical field, many lived well past what might have been expected and those born in more recent years may live well into their 80's. But watching my mother grow older may provide some important lessons for future generations and maybe even for me too.

   I don't remember too much about my grandparents, only that after a short time into what was then considered retirement, they passed away. As  my parents watched their parents grow older, I think they made the decision that life was going to be a bit different for them.

   My parents were able to retire while still fairly young, the results of a successful  career in public education, an antique business and  careful planning on the part of my father. 
   I can remember the talks, (no, not that talk!) well out of earshot of my mother, “Now this is what I have done and this is what should happen.” He expected that she would live longer that he would and... that was the case. But he too, was  into his 90's when he passed away.

   With somewhat safe and secure long term investments and a retirement pension from which to draw, they were able to travel and stayed fairly active. And their favorite activity? The “early bird special” at most the local restaurants in Florida of course! It was always hard to explain to our kids why, when we were visiting Grandma and Grandpa, we were having dinner at 3:30 in the afternoon, especially if we had just finished lunch an hour before. 

   As the years passed and life became a bit more difficult for them to live independently, it was time to seek some help and they moved into what is currently call 'assisted living.' My father fought the move, but after threats and some pretty stern discussions, he finally agreed and once there, he found there was still a great deal they could do, bingo, sharing stories from the past with new friends and acquaintances, bingo again  and a bit of musical entertainment every now and then.

   After his passing, my mother relocated to an assisted living facility a bit closer, making visiting and travel somewhat easier. Brand new, nicely decorated with family mementos, three square meals a day (although she might disagree), and ice cream snacks every so often, it provided her with an opportunity to continue to age with grace.

   But currently at 93, her world is quickly changing and while it is obvious for us to see and understand the changes taking place, it is not easy for her and these changes are  beginning to take their  toll on her. 
   She has been in and out of the hospital several times in the last 8 months, along with a visit or two to rehab to help regain some of her physical strength she loses after the hospital stays. But with each stay, with each 'event'  as we call them, it steals her enthusiasm for life and robs bits and pieces of her memory. For someone with a life so long and healthy, as she describes herself.....“I don't understand why this is happening to me? It wasn't suppose to be like this.”

   Each day her frustrations grow and her patience for the simple everyday tasks of life becomes shorter. It is difficult for us to know what she may be thinking and what she is really able to comprehend, only that we understand that for her “it's a new and very different life at 93...”